Kael didn't sleep that night.
He lay on the thin cot Mira had given him in the hidden den, staring at the low ceiling as the hum of the old generator filled the dark. His mind replayed everything: the circle of voices, Mira's words, the crude speaker now resting beside him.
For twenty-two years, his life had been empty routine—factory shifts, silent meals, a bed in a bare room. Safe, unnoticed, meaningless. Now, in the space of a single night, he had stepped into something dangerous. Something alive.
And tomorrow, he would risk his life for it.
At dawn, Mira returned. Her black coat trailed dust as she entered, carrying a roll of maps. She set them on the table and gestured for Kael to come closer.
"We start small," she said. "One spark at a time."
She unrolled the map, revealing a section of Orven Prime's upper district. Blocky buildings filled the page, and at the center stood a massive structure marked in red: The Broadcast Tower.
"The Accord transmits its decrees from here," Mira explained. "Every screen, every VoxTag, every voice they allow flows from this place. We've been testing resonance signals on scraps, but if we plant one near the tower's relay lines, we can disrupt a whole district for a few seconds. Enough for people to realize silence isn't invincible."
Kael studied the map. The tower was heavily guarded—an obvious target. His stomach knotted.
Mira seemed to notice. "Don't worry. You won't be going inside. Not yet. We'll place the device in the maintenance tunnels beneath. Your… condition makes you harder to suspect. I'll cover the rest."
She slid the small speaker across the table. "This is the first spark. Protect it with your life."
Kael picked it up, the weight of it heavier than steel. He nodded once.
By midday, they were in the streets. Kael kept his hood low as he followed Mira through the crowded avenues of Orven Prime. Above them, drones hovered like vultures. Screens blared silent videos of smiling families beneath the Accord's slogan.
No one spoke. Not a whisper. Even footsteps sounded too loud.
Kael felt every eye on him, though no one looked his way. He walked as Mira had taught him—calm, steady, unremarkable. Just another citizen with nothing to say.
They reached a gated access point where guards in black armor stood watch. Mira slowed, then subtly shifted their path toward an alley. She led Kael to a service hatch half-hidden beneath a rusted awning.
"Here," she whispered. "Down we go."
They slipped inside.
The tunnels beneath the Broadcast Tower were damp and suffocating. Old cables snaked along the walls, buzzing faintly with current. Mira guided him through the maze, counting turns, avoiding marked sensors. Kael followed closely, his heart pounding louder than his footsteps.
Finally, she stopped before a panel of thick wires feeding upward into the tower. "This is it," she breathed.
Kael knelt, hands trembling as he set the speaker into place. Mira crouched beside him, adjusting the connections. "When this activates, it will ripple through the network. Five seconds. That's all. Then the Accord's systems will reset."
She met his eyes. "But five seconds is enough."
Before Kael could nod, a metallic clang echoed behind them. Boots. Heavy, deliberate.
Mira's eyes widened. She mouthed a single word. Run.
The tunnel filled with light as armored figures emerged, their helmets gleaming, weapons raised. The Quiet Guard.
Kael's breath caught. He and Mira were cornered, the device exposed at their feet.
One of the guards spoke, voice filtered and cold: "Unauthorized presence. Surrender or be silenced."
Mira's hand hovered near her knife. Kael's pulse thundered. For the first time in his life, he faced the choice between obedience and rebellion.
His gaze dropped to the device. The first spark.
He reached for it.