The stars outside the viewport blurred into streaks as the Echohound fled the ruins of the Vault.
Kael sat in the pilot's seat, staring into the void.
The Shard burned faintly against his chest, its song weaving with Vakya's voice in the back of his mind.
He could feel it now—a vibration, a ripple, as if reality itself was stitched together by brittle threads, ready to snap.
Lira entered quietly, handing him a cup of bitter synth-coffee.
"You look like hell," she said, trying to smile.
Kael smirked tiredly. "Feel worse."
Rax leaned against the far wall, arms crossed.
His mechanical eye flickered, scanning Kael for signs of further instability.
"So," Rax said, voice low, "you're telling me you can... rewrite reality now?"
Kael nodded, rubbing the scarred skin near his heart.
"Not much. Not yet. Tiny pieces."
Lira sat opposite him.
"And the cost?"
Kael met her gaze.
"It's not free. Every change burns energy. Risks unraveling the anchor points."
She frowned. "In English?"
Kael's voice was grim.
"If I push too far... I could tear myself apart. Or worse—create something even the Silence couldn't predict."
The weight of it settled over them.
Power—true power—always carried a price.
And Kael had just accepted a debt the universe itself might come to collect.
Vakya's voice interrupted the heavy silence:
> New signal detected.
Origin: Solace Asteroid Field.
Designation: Survivor.
Kael blinked.
"Survivor?"
> Affirmative.
Chrono-signature predates current reality cycle.
Rax whistled low.
"You're telling me someone survived the last Collapse?"
Kael felt a cold knot twist in his stomach.
"If they did... they might know how to fight the Silence properly."
Or how to lose to it.
Either way—they had no choice.
The Solace Field was a graveyard.
Thousands of shattered asteroids tumbled through an endless dance of slow collision and slow death.
The Echohound wove through the debris, guided by Vakya's signal.
As they neared the coordinates, Kael could see it—a shard of a world, jagged and broken, hovering among the rocks.
Structures clung to its surface—spires of bone-like material, cracked domes, and ruined landing pads.
Whatever civilization had built this... it was long dead.
Almost.
The survivor was waiting.
They landed on a platform covered in thick ash.
As Kael stepped out, the gravity was weak, the air stale but breathable.
He led the way, weapon drawn, senses sharp.
Lira and Rax followed, silent shadows at his back.
The ruins groaned around them, ancient and crumbling.
Symbols lined the walls—twisting, impossible shapes that hurt to focus on for too long.
Kael recognized some from the Vault.
The same language.
The same warning.
BEWARE THE SECOND SONG.
They found the survivor near the heart of the ruins.
Or rather, it found them.
A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, thin being draped in tattered robes that shimmered with faint light.
Its face was hidden behind a cracked porcelain mask.
Its voice, when it spoke, was like the scraping of dry leaves:
"You bear the Mark of the Weaver."
Kael felt the Shard pulse at those words.
He lifted his chin.
"I bear a weapon. I seek answers."
The figure laughed—a sound brittle and old.
"You seek salvation. You carry damnation."
Rax muttered, "Great. A cryptic lunatic."
Lira elbowed him sharply.
Kael stepped forward.
"Who are you?"
The figure bowed slightly.
"I was once called Ithar. Keeper of the Last Pattern. Guardian of the False Dawn."
It tilted its head.
"And you, Weaver-child, carry a spark stolen from the Makers themselves."
Kael's fingers twitched on his pistol.
"Stolen? Vakya said the Shards were fragments of hope."
Ithar's voice sharpened.
"Hope? Hope is the lie they whispered before the End came. The Shards are chains.
Locks. Designed to bind the Silence... and us."
Kael's blood ran cold.
He remembered the vision in the Vault—the creators, the wars, the fall.
"You mean... the Shards don't just fight the Silence... they trap it?"
Ithar nodded.
"But every chain weakens. Every prison breaks.
And when they do... the Song begins anew."
Kael struggled to process it.
He had thought he was gathering tools to fight.
Instead, he was gathering pieces of a cage—a cage that was already failing.
He clenched his fists.
"Then how do we stop it?"
Ithar's masked face turned toward the black sky.
"You cannot stop what was woven into the bones of reality itself. But you can... rewrite it."
He pointed at Kael's chest—at the burning Shard fused to his heart.
"You carry the first key."
Suddenly, the ground shook.
The ruins trembled.
Vakya screamed in his mind:
> Silence manifestation detected.
High threat level.
Kael spun around.
Above them, the void twisted.
A mass of darkness poured down—limbs like tar, faces screaming in frozen agony.
The Silence had found them.
And it was hungry.
Rax cursed, raising his cannon.
"Time to move!"
Ithar stood calmly as chaos erupted around them.
He turned to Kael one last time.
"You must reach the Cradle."
Kael shouted over the rising roar.
"Where?"
Ithar pointed—beyond the Field, beyond even the stars.
"Find the Heart of Echoes. Only there can the new Song be born."
Before Kael could ask more, the Silence descended.
They ran.
Blasts of corrupted energy shattered the ruins around them.
Kael felt the Shard pulse, urging him to rewrite, to fight—but he held back.
Too much use would burn him out.
They fought their way back to the Echohound, dodging tendrils of darkness that lashed and snapped.
Lira fired into the black mass, clearing a path.
Rax threw himself into the ship's controls, bringing the engines online.
Kael stumbled aboard, Ithar's final words ringing in his ears:
The Heart of Echoes.
The new Song.
He barely strapped in before the Echohound roared into the void, engines screaming as they punched through the crumbling asteroid field.
The Silence chased them, but Vakya flooded the ship with a burst of quantum noise, blinding their pursuers.
For now, they were free.
But Kael knew it wouldn't last.
The real war was only beginning.
And somewhere out there, beyond the stars, beyond memory itself...
The Heart of Echoes awaited.