When the silence finally breaks, it doesn't shatter.
It exhales.
A long, low hum rolls through the air .... the kind that makes glass tremble and light flicker. The Observatory's ceiling, with its cracked glass and half-dead circuitry, breathes back to life.
Eren lies there for a while, staring up at the fractured dome above him. The city's sky looks close enough to touch .... violet haze, the faint gleam of passing drones, a smear of neon pulsing like veins through fog.
His chest burns where Kael's hand had been.
The glow beneath his skin is fading, but the ache it leaves behind feels carved into bone. He presses his palm against it anyway, as if he could hold the last of the warmth in.
He doesn't realize Kael is watching until the silence bends again ... not loud, not harsh, just… aware.
That's what Eren hates most about Kael's presence. The way silence itself notices him.
"You shouldn't move yet," Kael says quietly.
"You shouldn't touch me," Eren replies, and his voice sounds smaller than he expects.
Kael kneels beside him. His eyes catch the faint strobe of the city's distant lights .... gray at first glance, but not really. Not empty either. They look like still water hiding something deep beneath it.
"If I hadn't," Kael murmurs, "you'd have dissolved into the Pulse."
"Then maybe it should've let me."
For a heartbeat, Kael says nothing. Then:
"You don't get to decide that anymore."
**
Outside, sirens begin to howl ..... distant, mechanical, rising through the metallic heartbeat of the city. The Watchers are coming. Eren can feel them like heat approaching under his skin. The Pulse trembles inside him, reacting.
"They tracked it?" he asks.
Kael stands, his coat flaring with movement. "They always do."
He offers his hand. Eren doesn't take it. Not yet.
"You dragged me into this," Eren says.
"You were already in it," Kael answers. "You've just started hearing it again."
That last line hits something sharp in Eren .... again.
____
They move through the alleyways like shadows stitched into the night. Vareth never sleeps; it only hums. Neon runs down the walls like veins, connecting everything — the noise, the people, the secrets.
Eren's pulse is syncing with the city again. Every flash of light, every flicker of movement — he can feel it. Fear, lust, hunger, greed. It's all crawling under his skin, drowning out his own thoughts.
"Too loud," he mutters.
"You're opening up," Kael says. "The Pulse is tuning itself to you."
"Then make it stop."
"You can't stop what you are."
Kael glances back at him, his face half-lit by a sign that reads SOULSYNC // 2ND DISTRICT ACCESS RESTRICTED.
There's something almost human in his expression — like pity, but quieter.
"You said I was chosen," Eren says. "Chosen for what?"
"To remember," Kael answers simply. "And to wake what's left of the city before it dies completely."
Eren laughs .... the kind that hurts.
"You talk like it's alive."
"You of all people should know it is."
_____
They reach the underpass. Water drips from above, catching the glow of a dozen forgotten holograms looping advertisements from a decade ago — static-faced models selling things no one remembers.
Eren stops walking.
The Pulse inside him hums, faint but insistent. He closes his eyes, and for a moment he sees it — the city as it really is. The veins of power lines, the threads of emotion woven between strangers, the breath of machines syncing with human heartbeats.
It's beautiful and unbearable.
Then a flicker — an echo.
A voice that isn't Kael's.
"Eren Vail, first vessel. Pulse frequency unstable. Directive: retrieve or terminate."
He gasps and opens his eyes. Kael is already looking up — not at him, but at the rooftops. The Watchers are here.
"They've found you," Kael says. "Stay behind me."
"You think I can't fight?"
"I think you'll break if you try."
The first Watcher drops from above — all metal and motion, its face a blank glass pane. Eren doesn't think; the Pulse moves before he does. His hand rises, and light ripples outward — raw, blue-white, alive.
The Watcher seizes, its circuits flaring, and collapses into silence.
Eren stumbles back, staring at his hand. Smoke curls from his fingertips. His heart hammers, glowing faintly beneath his ribs.
Kael steps forward, not shocked, just… watching.
"You're learning faster than I expected."
"What the hell was that?"
"That," Kael says, "was you remembering."
More Watchers drop from the shadows. Kael draws something from his sleeve — not quite a blade, not quite light — and the air bends around it.
They fight side by side, the Pulse roaring through Eren like a storm. Every strike feels like striking through time — as if the city itself remembers what it once was.
When it's over, the ground is littered with broken shells and sparks. Kael's breathing is steady; Eren's is ragged.
"They won't stop coming," Kael says. "You're a frequency they can't erase."
"And you?" Eren asks. "What are you?"
Kael hesitates.
Then:
"The silence that listens when the Pulse speaks."
Eren looks at him — really looks — and the air between them hums, alive and fragile.
For a moment, it almost feels like the city's heartbeat isn't outside them anymore.
It's between them.
______
And somewhere far beneath Vareth, in the river that still breathes beneath the streets, something answers.