The air in Underspire was always thick with the hum of machinery and the burning tang of smog. Kael Vireon had long since grown used to it—so used to it, in fact, that it felt wrong to breathe clean air. Here, in the depths of the capital's forgotten underbelly, survival was a series of bargains and risks.
Kael moved like a shadow, slipping between towering columns of rusted metal and cracked stone, his worn boots making little sound against the ground. The echo of far-off gears grinding and the hum of unstable Aether lines buzzed faintly in his ears. He didn't mind the noise—it was constant. What bothered him were the shifting shadows, the moments when even the slum-dwellers stopped to listen, eyes narrowing.
A flicker of movement caught his attention—a guard, wandering the sector's edge. Kael paused, blending into the thick fog that clung to the lower levels, his fingers automatically brushing against the scrap pouch at his belt, filled with discarded tech and broken tools.
Today wasn't about scavenging for food or parts; it was about finding something more valuable—something important.
The Underspire was built on forgotten ruins, ancient buildings submerged beneath layers of industrial debris. The richest scraps came from old tech—Runetech, relics of the Age of Aeons. Most of it was too broken to be of much use, but there were rumors. Whispers of an untouched cache somewhere in the deeper, uncharted tunnels.
Kael didn't believe in luck. But he believed in risk. And he was tired of playing it safe.
His ghostgear was functional, if patched together. A lockbreaker on his left wrist. A mini-droner in his pocket. Each tool was crafted from fragments of lost tech, things he found after an accident or a raid. The gadgets weren't perfect, but they worked. And right now, they were his only chance at finding the treasure hidden below.
The gate before him was a mess of tangled wires and fallen pipes. He crouched, inspecting it with the practiced eye of someone who'd cracked a hundred locks without getting caught. He worked quickly, slipping his lockbreaker into the rusted panel, and with a few flicks, the gate hissed open.
Behind it lay a chamber, dimly lit by the flicker of dying lights. The floor was cracked and uneven, covered in an almost obsidian dust, as though the very stone had been scorched long ago. He stepped in cautiously, his heart thumping with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
At the center of the room stood an ancient altar—carved with markings Kael had never seen before. Above it, a glowing core pulsed softly, casting an eerie light on the walls. A metallic box lay beneath it, half-buried in stone and dust. It looked like nothing Kael had ever found before.
His fingers twitched. That was it.
"No turning back now," he muttered under his breath, kneeling to unearth the box. His mind raced through possibilities—what was it? A piece of Runetech? A weapon? Or something else?
He didn't care. Not really. He wasn't a historian, and he didn't care about the age-old relics the nobles fought over. He only cared about the job.
His hands worked quickly, stripping away the stone. The box finally came free, but just as his fingers brushed the lid, a surge of cold energy shot up his arm, making him freeze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
And then… the voice.
"Who are you?"
The words echoed in his mind, sharp and clear as a bell.
Kael jerked back, eyes wide. That wasn't just a thought. Someone—something—had spoken to him.
"What is this?" His voice cracked, but he swallowed the fear. This wasn't just some old tech. This was… alive.
A soft hum filled the air, the pulse of the core growing louder, more insistent. The box flicked open on its own, revealing a strange, crystalline device. It hummed like a heartbeat.
And then… Sarai's presence flooded his mind.
"You. Yes, you." The voice was clear, but distant, as though it were speaking from the depths of a long-forgotten dream.
Kael's head spun. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. His chest tightened as the pulse of the Aeon Core surged through him, and his instincts screamed to run.
But his legs wouldn't move.
"You are not meant to find me," the voice continued. "You are… Hollowed." There was a pause, a sharp edge to the tone. "And yet… I am bound to you now."
Kael's heart thudded painfully against his ribs. Hollowed. He knew what that meant. In a world of Resonants, to be Hollowed was to be less than human, less than nothing. Born without a Resonance, no connection to the elemental forces that governed the world.
For years, he'd survived without it—scrapping by on his wits and skills. But he never imagined… this.
"No. You are not a mistake. You are… what remains." The voice softened, almost regretful. "I am Sarai. I am the last of the Aeons."
Kael couldn't breathe. The weight of her words crashed down on him. The Aeons, the beings of unimaginable power that once ruled the world, were gone—vanished after a war that shattered everything. No one knew what happened to them, but their absence was felt in every corner of the world.
Now, Kael had found one. Her.
And she had chosen him.
His fingers trembled as he reached for the Aeon Core. The moment his skin touched it, a blinding light exploded from the crystal, surging through his veins, burning, consuming. His mind shattered into pieces, and for a brief moment, he felt something—someone—else within him.
End of Chapter 1