Kael awoke to silence.
Not the kind that soothed. The kind that pressed on your chest and whispered that something was wrong.
His back was against cold metal. The floor vibrated faintly beneath him—a rhythmic pulse, like a dying heartbeat. He opened his eyes to a dim glow, filtered through glass streaked with grime and soot. Overhead, half-buried wires sparkled with residual aether.
He wasn't in the ruins anymore. He was somewhere beneath them.
"Where…?"
His voice cracked like dry leaves. He pushed himself up slowly, muscles aching, and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass wall beside him.
His left eye glowed faintly violet.
"No," he whispered. He staggered to his feet, heart hammering, dread curling tight in his gut.
It wasn't a dream. Sarai was real.
"You're awake."
The voice bloomed inside his head—too loud, too familiar now. Not spoken aloud. Not imagined either. Just there.
Kael stiffened. "Get out of my head."
"That is not how this works." Sarai's tone was emotionless, ancient. "The Core has fused. The Binding is complete. You are my Vessel now."
He clenched his fists. "I'm not your anything."
A long silence.
Then, more softly: "I would not have chosen this either."
Kael swayed slightly. His body felt wrong. Off-balance. Like something else was inside his skin, pressing outward. A heartbeat that wasn't his own thumped beneath his ribs, deeper than blood.
"Why me?" he asked finally. "Why not someone—anyone—better?"
"There were none. You survived the Core's pulse. You touched what should have vaporized you. That… intrigued me."
"That's not a reason," he snapped.
"It's the only one you'll get."
Kael looked around, grounding himself.
The room was circular, domed, built from blackstone and glassite, veined with violet runelines. He stood on a central platform surrounded by concentric rings of what looked like ancient consoles—metal and stone fused, archaic and alien.
He'd only seen ruins like this in salvager lore: Pre-Fall Aeon strongholds. Most were sealed or buried beneath the high cities. This one… this one was waking.
Runelights blinked to life.
A column at the far end hissed open, releasing vapor. A mechanical construct stepped out, its joints smooth, its eyes twin sapphires behind a smooth, oval helm.
Kael instinctively stepped back, reaching for his ghostgear—only to realize the lockbreaker on his arm had fused with his skin.
Integrated.
"What the hell…?"
"The Core rewrites," Sarai said. "It adapts what you are. And what you are… was broken."
"You bitch—"
"You were Hollowed. Now you are not."
The construct stopped a few feet from him and dropped to one knee.
"Command recognized. Welcome, First Resonant of Sarai."
Kael blinked. "What did you just call me?"
The construct bowed its head. "You carry the Aeon Pulse. You are Host. Voice. Vessel."
Kael shook his head, stepping away. "No. No, no, no—I'm not joining your war. I just wanted a score. A big enough one to get out of this garbage chute of a world. You picked the wrong guy."
"You are not being asked to fight," Sarai replied.
Kael laughed bitterly. "Yeah? Then why do I feel like a grenade waiting to go off?"
There was silence again. This time it felt… cold.
"Because you are," she said finally. "Your body was not meant to hold me. The longer we stay bound without balance, the faster you will burn."
Kael's chest tightened.
"So I'm gonna die?"
"Unless you find resonance. Unless you learn to wield what I am. Yes."
The door behind the construct slid open.
Wind rushed in—cold, dry, laced with ozone and dust. Beyond it stretched a massive shaft that plunged down into darkness, lit only by the pulse of violet lights along the inner walls. A transport rail, broken and rusting, wound down into infinity.
Kael stared.
"Where does it go?"
"To the Hollowroot. The heart of this world. My tomb… and your rebirth."