The rain hadn't stopped in two days.
It slithered down the roof in thin silver lines, dripping through the cracks above my bed. I watched it trace its way across the wood, glinting faintly in the candlelight, before falling onto my wrist.
Cold.
But what froze me wasn't the rain.
It was the pulse beneath my skin—steady, then off-beat, then steady again.
Something had changed since the Trial.
The mark of resonance on my arm, once dull and gray, now shimmered faintly, like light trapped under flesh. Every time I blinked, it pulsed in rhythm with something unseen, something deep within me. I didn't hear a voice. I didn't see numbers or stats. But I knew it was there—watching.
When I tried to focus on it, my mind brushed against something vast and silent. A current that refused to be understood.
It was an echo.
---
"Elias?"
Lira's voice broke through the silence, small and worried. She was leaning against the doorway, her hair messy, clutching her patched blanket. "You're awake again?"
I forced a smile. "You should be asleep."
"I can't." She shuffled closer. "You keep… glowing."
I hid my arm beneath the blanket. "Do I?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You're lying again."
A faint laugh escaped me. She always saw through me—though she didn't understand what she saw. "Just a bit of resonance backlash. I'll be fine."
She frowned. "You said that yesterday. And the day before. You look like you swallowed lightning."
"I've been worse."
She crawled onto the bed beside me and pulled the blanket over both of us. The warmth of her small frame pressed against my side. For a long moment, we just listened—to the rain, to the silence, to our own uneven breathing.
Then she whispered, "Do you think I'll resonate too?"
That question.
Every child in Darnsworth whispered it at least once. Every parent prayed their child never had to. Because to resonate was to risk dying in the Trial. And yet… not resonating meant staying weak, hungry, and forgotten.
I turned my head toward her. "You already are, Lira."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You see things others don't. You feel them. That's resonance."
Her lips parted. "But… mine's faint."
"Even a faint echo can stir storms one day."
I ruffled her hair. "Don't rush it."
Her smile was tired, but real. She curled closer, and within minutes, her breathing softened into sleep.
---
When she drifted off, I stared at the mark again.
It pulsed once—like a heartbeat not my own—and for the briefest instant, I felt… something.
A presence.
No words. No text. Just intent.
Observation confirmed.
Subject: Stable.
Reward distribution: delayed.
The thoughts weren't mine.
They simply appeared—like dust falling into still water.
I bit down on the inside of my cheek. "Delayed, huh?" I muttered softly. "Figures."
Every Resoner was alone in that silence.
They said it was a divine safeguard, a way to prevent madness. But after feeling that presence in my veins, I wasn't sure if it was protection… or isolation.
---
The next morning, I visited the workers' district. The fog hung low, hugging the brick alleys and the cracked lamps that lined them. Every sound—horse hooves, coughs, haggling voices—felt muted, swallowed by mist.
People stared at the faint glow beneath my sleeve. They didn't ask questions. Resonators were both feared and envied.
A man in a patched coat muttered as I passed, "Another one marked. Poor bastard."
He wasn't wrong.
Resonance wasn't power. Not at first. It was a sickness that ate at the mind until you learned to wield it—or it broke you.
As I walked past the rusted gates of the factory, my vision flickered for a moment. The world tilted. And suddenly—
I wasn't in the factory anymore.
A black field. Endless. Silent.
Dozens of faint lights hovered in the dark like distant stars.
The air shimmered with whispers I couldn't understand.
Then I realized—they weren't stars.
They were systems. Dozens—hundreds—each linked to an unseen mind. Some flickered weakly. Others blazed like miniature suns.
But none touched another.
Each existed in isolation—like imprisoned souls.
A pulse ran through the void. One light flared briefly before vanishing completely. Snuffed out.
I understood what it meant.
Another one failed their Trial.
My mark burned. I gasped, and the world snapped back into focus—the clang of gears, the hiss of steam, the stink of oil.
My knees almost buckled.
So that's what resonance truly was.
A chain between a human soul and something that existed beyond sight.
A fragile tether between mortality and the unknown.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I sat by the window, tracing the lines on my arm, whispering to no one in particular. "If you're real… if you're listening… don't make me regret surviving."
The mark pulsed once—softly.
Then faded.
I took that as an answer.