The Beacon did not glow when they left Aethrune.
It breathed.
Soft pulses of blue light traveled through the crystal spire like a heartbeat returning after a long, terrifying silence. The dark veins were still there, thin and faint — scars instead of rot.
The Wardens stood along the broken avenue as Walliam, Elaris, and Torren walked back toward the Boundary Gate.
They were being watched again.
But differently.
Not as a threat.
As a possibility.
"You shifted its memory," the lead Warden said to Walliam. "That should not have been possible."
Walliam shrugged weakly. He still felt hollow, like he'd poured half of himself into the Beacon. "I didn't fix it. I just… listened."
"That is why it responded."
Torren glanced around the ruined skyline. "Great. So ancient god-machines are powered by emotional intelligence. We are doomed."
Elaris elbowed him. "Shut up."
The Warden stepped closer. "Know this, Heart-bearer: every Beacon you touch will echo outward."
Walliam met the mask's thin line of light. "Echo how?"
"Not only through healing."
A pause.
"But through attention."
The word hung heavy.
Elaris frowned. "Attention from what?"
The Warden looked up.
The cracked sky ring above Aethrune flickered.
"From what broke the Heart in the first place."
Silence.
Torren blinked. "Oh. Good. There's a cause."
Walliam's chest mark pulsed — uneasy now, not warm.
"What broke it?" he asked.
The Warden did not answer.
Instead, it stepped back and gestured toward the Gate.
"You have already begun the next movement. The world will answer."
That did not feel comforting.
The Boundary Gate shimmered as they passed through.
Sound dulled. The charged air faded.
Then they were back in the living forest — birds, wind, sunlight. It felt almost unreal after the crystal ruins.
For a while, they walked in silence.
Then Torren said, "So. Ancient sky-city full of ghost statues. Normal day."
Elaris gave a tired laugh. "You're coping."
"I am thriving."
Walliam lagged behind a little, fingers brushing the mark under his shirt. It felt… louder now. Not stronger, but more connected.
Like invisible threads stretched outward from him into the distance.
He didn't like it.
They reached the edge of the forest by dusk.
Beyond the trees lay open land — rolling grass plains dotted with strange stone formations that rose like broken teeth from the earth.
Smoke curled in the distance.
Torren squinted. "Settlement?"
Elaris nodded. "Trade smoke. Too straight to be wildfires."
Walliam hesitated.
The last time they approached people, their entire life had ended.
"We need supplies," Elaris said gently. She knew that look on his face. "And information."
"And maybe a bed that isn't trying to grow roots," Torren added.
Walliam nodded.
"Okay."
They didn't see the riders until it was too late.
Hoofbeats thundered over the rise to their left.
A line of mounted figures crested the hill — dark cloaks snapping in the wind, armor catching the last light of sunset.
Each rider wore a symbol over their chest:
A circle cracked down the middle.
Walliam stopped cold.
Elaris's voice dropped. "Those aren't Wardens."
"No," he said.
"They're not Collectors either," Torren muttered.
The riders fanned out, blocking the path to the settlement.
One dismounted smoothly and walked forward, removing her helm.
She was young. Sharp eyes. A long scar across her jaw.
Her gaze locked on Walliam instantly.
"So it's true," she said.
Torren shifted his grip on his axe. "Friendly greeting?"
She ignored him.
"You carry the mark."
Walliam didn't answer.
She gave a humorless smile. "Relax. If we wanted you dead, you'd already be ash."
"Comforting trend today," Torren muttered.
Elaris stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The woman placed a hand over the cracked-circle symbol.
"We are the Severed Path."
Walliam's chest went cold.
She continued, "We hunt Heart-bearers."
Silence dropped like a blade.
Torren blinked. "See? This is why we don't make friends."
Elaris didn't move. "Why?"
The woman's expression hardened. "Because every time one awakens, the world fractures further. We've seen cities fall. Lands twist. People crystallize mid-breath."
Walliam felt the weight of Aethrune behind him.
"That wasn't the Heart," he said. "That was fear."
The woman studied him. "That's what they all say."
Her eyes flicked to his chest, like she could see the mark through cloth.
"But you did something different."
"How do you know?" Elaris asked.
She gestured behind her.
From the riders, another figure stepped forward carrying a shard of pale crystal.
It glowed faintly blue.
"Beacon light returned two days ago," she said. "For the first time in centuries."
Walliam swallowed.
"You fixed Aethrune."
Not a question.
Torren looked between them. "Okay. So we're not getting stabbed?"
She sheathed her sword.
"We're deciding."
That was worse.
She stepped closer to Walliam.
"If you fail, we will kill you before you become another disaster."
Elaris bristled. "You don't get to—"
Walliam raised a hand.
It wasn't anger he felt.
It was… understanding.
"That's fair," he said quietly.
The woman studied him for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"We'll ride with you. For now."
Torren groaned. "Great. More emotionally intense strangers."
Night fell as both groups made camp near the plains.
The riders stayed separate but watchful.
Walliam lay on his back, staring at the sky.
The fractures shimmered faintly between stars.
For the first time, he felt something else beneath the mark's pulse.
Something distant.
Something vast.
Not a wound.
Not the Heart.
Something watching the threads he had touched.
And now—
It knew where to look.
Walliam didn't sleep.