The shard's hum grew into a storm.
Kael's body convulsed as a surge of light and sound ripped through his veins. His restraints sparked, metal twisting as though rejecting him. The interrogation chamber itself groaned, lights flickering in rhythm with the Resonance.
The interrogator staggered back, visor tilting as though blinded. "Impossible…"
Kael's breath came ragged, but his mind was clear—clearer than ever. He could hear voices now, not just whispers, but a chorus. Hundreds, thousands, layered upon one another, all speaking without words. The forgotten. The silenced. The dead.
The Resonance wasn't a flaw. It was memory given form.
Kael's bonds snapped, molten at the seams. He fell forward, the shard searing hot in his palm. Instead of pain, it filled him with power—raw, pulsing, alive.
The interrogator steadied themselves, but Kael noticed it this time: a tremor in their movements, a faint distortion in their voice. "You don't understand what you've taken. That shard isn't salvation. It's the Accord's oldest wound."
Kael rose, unsteady but defiant. "Then why does it feel like freedom?"
The visor tilted toward him, silent. For a heartbeat, Kael thought he saw a flicker—something human behind the mask. Not enemy. Not machine. Just someone afraid.
But the moment passed. With a sharp gesture, alarms screamed through the chamber. Heavy doors shuddered open, and Guards stormed in, weapons raised.
The Resonance surged again, instinctive, protective. The shard pulsed and the air itself rippled. One Guard fired—yet the shot bent away, dissolving into static before it touched him.
Kael's own voice rose without thought, carried by the Resonance itself. "You can silence me, but you cannot silence us."
For the first time, fear spread through the crimson visors.
And in the corner of his eye, Kael saw the interrogator… watching, unmoving, almost as if waiting.