The storm didn't stop when the last Watcher fell.
It just changed form.
Vareth trembled — not with thunder, but with memory.
Every shattered light and broken panel hummed like it was whispering Eren's name through static.
He stood still, chest heaving, the glow beneath his ribs slowly dimming. Kael's coat was torn down one side, faint smoke curling from the blade that wasn't quite a blade. Neither spoke.
For a moment, silence was almost kind.
Then the rain started again — thin, metallic drops that smelled faintly of ozone. They hissed when they hit the street, eating the shadows into smaller and smaller pieces.
"We can't stay here," Kael said finally.
Eren didn't move. "You said they'd keep coming."
"They will."
"Then what's the point of running?"
"Survival," Kael said simply. "Until you learn what you are."
______
They moved through a side corridor that cut under the city's veins — a maintenance tunnel, dark except for the faint glow from
Eren's hands. The hum followed them like a pulse heard underwater.
Eren stared at his fingers, the faint shimmer along his skin. It felt wrong — too alive. Like the city was using him to breathe.
"When you said I was chosen," he murmured, "chosen by who?"
Kael's voice echoed softly in the tunnel. "Not who. What. The Pulse isn't a god, Eren. It's what's left when a city forgets its people."
Eren frowned. "Then what am I to it?"
"The only one who still listens."
______
They reached a door at the end of the tunnel — rusted, but carved with strange symbols that pulsed faintly when Kael touched them. The door responded, unfolding rather than opening, light spilling out like breath.
Inside was an abandoned subway station. The walls were covered in old murals — people painted in silver and crimson, their eyes replaced with circuits. The words "Remember the Frequency" had been scrawled across the far wall in black paint.
Eren stepped forward slowly. "You've been here before."
"Yes," Kael said.
"With who?"
"With the ones who tried to wake the city."
He knelt beside a console half-buried in dust, pressing a gloved hand to its surface. The machine flickered weakly to life. Faded holograms began to play — brief flashes of people screaming, lights bursting, streets tearing apart.
And then Eren saw himself.
Younger. Blood on his face. Standing in the middle of a ruined street, his veins glowing like molten glass.
Eren stepped back, the world tilting. "That's not me."
"It was you," Kael said quietly. "Before you forgot."
_____
The Pulse began to hum again, this time inside his skull. Images flickered — flashes of another version of Vareth. Sunlight. Laughter. A girl's voice. Then screams.
Eren clutched his head, teeth gritted. "Stop it—"
Kael crossed the room, his hands steady, voice low. "Don't fight it. The Pulse isn't showing you the past to hurt you. It's showing you what broke it."
Eren looked up, eyes wide. "What broke me?"
Kael hesitated. "You did."
The words landed like impact.
Something inside Eren twisted — a mix of anger, grief, and something that felt like recognition.
"You're lying."
"I wish I was."
_____
The console sparked violently, and before Kael could move, Eren's hand pressed flat against it. Light erupted — not blue this time, but red, raw and trembling. The Pulse flared through the room, shaking dust from the ceiling.
Images poured out — a city collapsing in light, Kael standing amidst the wreckage, and Eren on his knees, bleeding from his eyes, whispering something that the machine didn't catch.
Then it was gone.
Eren staggered back. His nose was bleeding, his pulse chaotic.
Kael caught him before he fell.
"You shouldn't have done that," Kael said.
"I saw… something."
"You saw everything," Kael murmured. "And it's waking again."
They sat in silence for a while — Eren slumped against the wall, Kael crouched nearby. The tunnel lights flickered like tired heartbeats.
"You knew me before," Eren said finally.
Kael's jaw tightened. "Yes."
"What was I to you?"
Kael didn't answer. He stood, turning away, his shadow long against the wall.
"There are some silences that even the Pulse can't break."
Eren stared at him, frustration mixing with confusion. "You keep talking in riddles."
"And you keep looking for truth when all we have are echoes."
_____
A faint noise interrupted them — a whirring hum from the tunnel entrance. Kael was on his feet instantly, blade half-drawn.
"They're tracking us faster," he said.
"The Watchers?"
"No," Kael said, his voice darker. "Something older."
The Pulse shivered in Eren's chest. Beneath the city, the air itself seemed to inhale.
And for the first time since he'd woken, Eren felt it — a second heartbeat, slower, deeper, like something buried miles below them had just opened its eyes.
They fled before the sound reached them.
But the hum followed, echoing down the tunnels like a voice learning how to speak again.
"Kael," Eren said, breathless, "what is that?"
"The reason you forgot," Kael said quietly. "And the reason you'll have to remember."
_____
They reached the end of the line — a cavern beneath glass, where the city's light pooled in fractured reflections. Kael stopped, turning to face him fully.
"Eren," he said, "the city's waking. You need to decide if you'll wake with it — or be buried when it breathes again."
Eren stared past him at the walls of glass, watching his reflection flicker — and for an instant, it wasn't him staring back.
It was the version from the hologram. The one with glowing veins.
The one who'd broken the city.
And this time, his reflection smiled.