He’s close. His breath brushes my skin. The unknown looms beyond the arch, but tonight, we are here together, standing in the ruins we chased, and nothing feels safe—but something feels real.
I slide through the broken arch into darkness, torch-light dancing off obsidian walls, and the hum of the generator above fades behind us. The chamber yawns ahead—ancient, grave, alive. Every step echoes. The air tastes of dust and old circuitry, and my pulse thunders in my ears. This is it—the heart of the ruin.
Kyldak follows close, armor plates clicking, boots crunching on fractured tiles, ever watchful. Behind us, his men hang back, hesitant. I take a deep breath.
“Stay close,” I whisper.
I lead them forward, scanning every surface, fingertips trailing over faded Precursor glyphs and crystalline seams. Asealed door bars us, carved in metal and glass. Energy sigils flicker faintly. My fingers dance across the glyph array; I reverse the circuit locks, reroute resonance loops, override failsafes. The door shudders, slides open.
I hear the gasps behind me.
“Moments like this,” I murmur under my breath, “you learn which cracks still hold light.”
Inside is a winding chamber—a labyrinth of corridors branching deeper into rock and circuitry. The walls shift slightly, as though alive: panels sliding, walls breathing. The floor beneath vibrates.
A worn trap needle springs. I vault aside, drop to one knee, and flick a grounding wire from my belt, directing current to neutralize the strike. Sparks flare. The others freeze. I wave them forward. “One room at a time.”
We move. I decode glyph scripts: “Resonance coupling hall,” “Biometric key accept,” “Prime node interface.” Each translation a knife to hope. I patch into the terminal with my own rig, jacking wires into ancient sockets, coaxing circuits alive with scavenged power.
Kyldak is next to me, watching my hands work. The amber glow of a reactor coil flickers across his face. I nearly falter when I see pride there—something raw and soft. I shake off the distraction.
Past a chamber of silent dormant drones, we enter a massive hall. The ceiling glitters with crystalline conduits drawing light downward. Panels on the floor slide away, revealing pits. We leap across them. The air is hot, charged.
Kyldak’s hand brushes a wall panel. I freeze. He presses a palm flat. The Precursor circuit responds—the glass conduits light, the glyphs glow, energy arcs across the wall. His cybernetic augment flickers in recognition. The nodes hum in resonance.
My breath catches.
This isn’t just warlord tech anymore. It’s biology. Hybrids. Interfaces. The way he touched the panel, and it woke—like it knew him. Like he belonged.
I stare.
He meets my eyes in the dim light, confusion and wonder tangled in his expression. “What did you see?” he says, voice low.
“Nothing—just…” I trail off, mind racing. That flicker means the system responds to hybrid interfaces. The same blood that runs in Kel’s veins—my son’s. The revelation drops in my gut like lead.
He doesn’t wait for me to finish. He steps deeper. “Continue,” he commands.
I swallow hard. Lead them forward, tunnel descending farther. Ancient tech pulses. The resonance grows. The corridors whisper.
I almost tell him. Almost drop it. “Kyldak—Kel—” I stutter.
He glances sidelong but doesn’t slow.
We reach the prime node chamber: a circular room with pulsing conduits arrayed like a halo. The harmonic pulse is loud now—vibrating through bone. The air tingles.
The others fall silent, backing away, unsure. Their fear is bright.
But I step forward.
I place a hand over the central node. It throbs in recognition. The glyphs flicker. The node swings open like a mouth. A corridor beyond is revealed, leading deeper still—a shaft of shimmering light and circuitry.
Kyldak leans close behind me. His breath brushes my hair. He murmurs, “You led us to this.”
I exhale, voice trembling. “I had to.”
He touches my shoulder gently. “Then we go together.”
I nod, though my throat burns. The silent truth between us hangs heavy: the path ahead might demand more than we bargained for.
