The city had folded itself into a ragged ring of tents and hastily cleared squares. Fires burned in controlled pits. Medics moved in small, efficient lines. Children clutched scrap blankets.
The sky bled orange where two distant blazes still lingered, the Spire's silhouette was a jumble of collapsed scaffolding and smoke.
They had retreated to a sector the wardens called a soft ring, a place the golems could not easily climb into, where fallen cranes and buckled roofs formed a crude barricade.
The wounded lay on pallets, the able-bodied ferried water, bandages, and whatever food could be spared.
Men and women who had minutes earlier been nobles now passed water to laborers without a glance at rank.
The city was a single organism, ragged but still trying to heal itself.
Dareth punched the plaster of a makeshift communications hut until his knuckles ached. "The core is rerouting the lines," he spat. "It's handling the signal layer now. If the Heart's logic is twisted, it can choke off channels. We can't even call for reinforcements reliably."
Agnes returned then, borne on a litter and flanked by wardens, medics, and Aura-proficient healers clustered round him, already working hot hands and quiet words. He smelled of smoke and iron.
The first wash of triage brought him eyes open and breathing. Badly, but breathing, and a cheer that was half relief, half disbelief ran through the hollow.
Dareth, Kestrel, and Serel crowded in, faces loosening into something like gratitude.
Dareth's voice went rough. "You beat one?"
Agnes managed a thin smile. "Barely." Blood caught the side of his mouth. "Those bad boys were built centuries before any of us. Took everything just to destroy one." He blinked at them, exhausted and oddly fierce. "I held it. For now."
Serel's laugh was sharp and humorless. "This is not the hour for jokes," she said, voice edged.
Aurelia watched as healers laid hands and wove Aura into warm, smoky spirals around Agnes's wound.
Seeing him alive lit a slight, stubborn relief in her chest, and, beneath it, a new ache of urgency.
The golems had moved by instruction, somewhere the Heart had pulsed a call that they answered.
If the machines were obeying a pattern, the pattern must have a source.
If the core is driving them, perhaps the golem's body keeps a record of those instructions.If I could read that record… The thought was a blade-edge of possibility and risk.
Kael, standing close by, shot a look at Master Kestrel. "Tell me straight, can you destroy the Heart? If it's what's driving them, take it out."
Kestrel's face hardened. He suddenly looked older, the forehead crease at his temples more pronounced. "If the core is powerful enough to supply a kingdom," he said, blunt and practical, "then destroying it is not an easy feat."
A murmur ran through the ring. The thought of losing the Heart was a plunge most could not stomach.
Aurelia surprised the cluster by standing up and stepping past the medics. "Where is the golem now?" she asked, voice steady enough that it cut through the low noise.
Heads turned. Agnes glanced up, confusion and pain flickering across his features. "It's still near the vault."
A rustle of surprise, no one had expected a student to ask, let alone to move toward action.
Aurelia met Agnes's gaze and said, slow and careful, "If you'll let me get close to its body, to examine it, I might be able to trace a link back to the Heart. There's a chance its mechanism keeps a record of the instructions it follows. I could look for anything that ties the guardian to the core."
She kept her voice neutral and practical, but the request carried weight.
It was the first time she'd proposed anything like this in front of so many, and the circle tightened around her as if to catch the motion.
Kael's hand closed on her collar before anyone could stop it, fingers blunt with anger. "Don't be a hero, Aurelia," he hissed. "You'll get yourself killed."
Aurelia grabbed his wrist and hauled him forward so their faces were inches apart. Her voice was too loud in the hush. "And sit here doing nothing while people die? Is that your plan?"
"Yes." The single syllable landed like a stone. "Because we are students, not the knights in shining armor. Not grand mages. Not—" He swallowed. "Not them. You go out there, and you're a liability. You have to trust the people who know how to fight those things."
Trust them. The word stung. Trust them to fix what I can see, to act while I watch.
She could feel her Aspect whispering at the edges of her consciousness, pushing like a tide that wanted to answer.
If I can read the machine's memory, we can stop this. Not later—now.
Aurelia's fingers tightened. "I have something that helps. I can read echoes. I can trace the orders a machine keeps track of. That's not being a hero. That's using what I can."
Around them, voices had gone quiet. Lysandra's hand found Aurelia's arm, the touch was small and fierce. Arthur's expression had gone tight, blade-sheath humming with unease. Lucien watched with the faintest cloud of worry over his usual smirk. Dareth stood rigid. Kestrel's eyes had narrowed to slits. Serel's posture did not soften.
Agnes, still propped on his litter, lifted a hand. The sound of the camp, distant shouts, the crackle of controlled fires, fell away for a breath.
He looked at Aurelia as if for the first time, really seeing the steadiness beneath the tremor in her voice.
"You're not asking to be reckless," he said, surprised by the firmness in his own tone. "You're asking to be useful." He drew in a thin breath, then added with quiet conviction, "And I approve."
The statement hit the group like a thrown stone. Even the medics froze mid-motion.
Dareth blinked hard. "You… approve? Agnes, with respect, are you really placing a student's word above the risk of another guardian waking? Above protocol?"
Agnes's smile was faint but unshakably sure. "I'm placing value on hope, Dareth. On anything that might give us an edge." He shifted, wincing, but his gaze never left Aurelia. "We cannot afford pride right now. If this girl's ability can glean even a sliver of insight from the remains, then we take that chance."
Dareth rubbed a hand down his face. "You trust her that much?"
"I trust what I hear," Agnes replied. "She's thinking instead of panicking. And hope—" his voice dipped, threadbare but earnest, "—is something you capitalize on when you have nothing else."
Aurelia felt the words strike deeper than she expected. Confidence warmed her chest, steadying a tremor she hadn't realized she carried.
Serel folded her arms, evaluating. Lucien's brows lifted in brief surprise. Even Kael's anger had flared down into wary confusion, as if he hadn't expected Agnes to take Aurelia's side so easily.
Aurelia nodded once, gripping onto the certainty Agnes had gifted her. Hope. If that's what I can give them… then I will.
Agnes managed a half-grin. "Do it right, girl. And come back alive. That'll be enough."
The camp settled again, still scared, still wounded, but now with the thin, sharp thread of purpose cutting through the despair.
Kael's face went hard as forged iron. "Just because the headmaster says it's allowed doesn't mean I do." His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "I'll break every bone in your body before you throw yourself at whatever this is."
Aurelia's jaw trembled, but she didn't back down. He's scaring himself more than me, "This is our only chance," she said, quietly so only Kael could hear. "If I don't try—"
Kael's teeth were clenched until the knuckles whitened. "I won't let you die," he snarled.
Aurelia reached out, surprised by the firmness of her own hand. She took his sleeve and then his wrist, the touch was a small, deliberate thing. "Trust me," she whispered, and when he tried to pull away, his guard broke.
A single, wet line traced down his cheek, quick, ashamed, impossible to hide.
Tears, Aurelia realized, and the sight steadied something in her like a weight set down.
He had been keeping everything together for them, and the sound of his fear made the moment sharp as flint.
Aurelia only held his gaze and said, steady and confident, "It's my responsibility. I can help. So I have to try."
The camp went quiet.
Kael looked like he wanted to tear the world apart rather than let her take a single step toward danger, but he said nothing more. He only hung his head, jaw trembling, unable to meet her eyes.
A moment later, Dareth cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"I'll guide her."
Serel blinked. "You? Weren't you the one questioning her earlier?"
Dareth didn't flinch. "Yes." He met Aurelia's eyes, and something in his expression had shifted—respect edged with urgency. "But I've also seen students freeze. Panic. Break. She didn't. And courage like that… we can't waste it." He moved to Aurelia's side with the air of someone long used to making decisions quickly. "If she says she can find something, we go."
Aurelia nodded in gratitude, and Dareth lifted a hand.
"I'll be using a high-form Aether veil," he said, voice dropping into professional cadence. "It'll mute our signatures and keep the guardians' attention off us, hopefully."
A thin shimmer expanded outward, forming a translucent, wavering bubble around the two of them.
The air inside felt denser, quieter, Aether drawn tight like a held breath.
No one spoke. Not Lysandra, wringing her fingers, not Lucien, staring as if calculating the risks, not Kael, whose eyes stayed fixed on Aurelia as though watching a departing ship.
Then Aurelia turned, offering a small, calm smile, the kind that said I'll come back. I promise.
And that, finally, let the others breathe as Dareth guided her toward the shattered vault and the dead guardian waiting beyond.
Kael sank onto a broken stone bench, hands braced on his knees, head bowed. His breathing was ragged, nothing like the composed Kael everyone knew.
Lysandra hovered beside him, "I've… never seen you like that," she whispered. "Not even during exams, not during fights, never."
Kael dragged a hand through his hair. "Aurelia acts like she's responsible for everything. Like every problem is hers to fix." His voice cracked. "And she scares me when she does that."
Footsteps approached lightly.
Lucien.
He stood with his arms crossed, shadows under his eyes, but a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "She's always been like that," he said. "Ever since I first saw her when we were kids. The stubborn Caelistra." He tilted his head. "Can't tell if it's ego or confidence or simply… Aurelia."
Kael glared up at him. "You're not worried at all?"
Lucien scoffed. "Of course I'm worried. I'm not stupid." Then he softened. "But she said to trust her. So trust her."
Kael clenched his jaw, but said nothing.
-
Aurelia followed Dareth through the ruined sector, the Aether veil shimmering faintly around them. Every few steps, distant tremors rattled glass and loose stone.
They slipped into an abandoned dwelling as the shadow of a massive guardian swept across the street outside, its silhouette larger than the building itself. Aurelia felt her chest seize as she and Dareth both instinctively held their breath.
For a long, crushing moment, the guardian's whirring joints echoed like thunder.
Then it moved on.
Aurelia exhaled shakily. "That was… close."
Dareth nodded, listening until the last vibration faded. Only then did he relax the slightest fraction.
Aurelia looked at him. "Can I ask you something?"
"If it's quiet," he murmured.
"You really came with me just because… you saw my confidence?"
Dareth didn't pretend otherwise. "Yes. And because Agnes believed in you more than I've seen him believe in anyone in years."
Aurelia blinked. "…Why does that matter so much to you?"
For a long moment, Dareth stayed silent, long enough that she wondered if he'd refuse to answer.
But then he leaned against the wall, Aether veil pulsing softly, and spoke in a low voice meant for her alone.
"Agnes wasn't always the Headmaster. Before that, he was the Spire's youngest structural magus. Brilliant. Scary brilliant." Dareth's eyes softened. "He came from a lineage tied to the Spire's founding, the custodians who swore they'd keep the Heart safe for every generation after."
Aurelia listened, absorbed.
"He trained me when I was barely capable of casting a stable sigil," Dareth continued. "But he never cared about talent. Only about intent. He used to say that strength without purpose is noise. Strengrh with purpose is a promise."
Aurelia's breath caught. "That sounds like him."
"There's more…" Dareth hesitated, as if weighing what should remain private. "A long time ago, Agnes lost someone because the Spire's systems failed. A brother. Young. Too young." His jaw tightened. "Ever since, the Spire became more than his duty. It became the thing he refused to fail again."
Aurelia felt her chest tighten with empathy.
"So yes," Dareth said quietly, meeting her eyes, "when he puts his faith in someone, even a student, I listen. Because he doesn't do that lightly."
Aurelia exhaled slowly. "I'll… do everything I can to be worthy of that."
"I know."
They continued toward the vault, the ruined body of the guardian waiting, a silent, massive key to a past only Aurelia could unlock.
And the closer they crept, the louder the faint hum of the Heart became… as if it felt her coming.
The path narrowed into a collapsed service corridor.
The Aether-concealment bubble flickered against jagged metal and broken pipes as they squeezed through.
When they emerged on the other side, Aurelia felt the air change, thicker, humming faintly.
Dareth lifted a hand. "We're close."
They rounded a half-melted bulkhead, and then Aurelia saw it.
The fallen guardian lay half-buried in rubble near the ruptured vault wall.
Even broken, it was enormous, its torso crushed inward, one arm severed at the shoulder, the other twisted like a bent tower beam.
Its rune-lines were dark, but faint warmth still pulsed under the plates, like embers refusing to die.
Aurelia's breath hitched.
Up close, it felt different. Not dead. Not alive. Just… remembering.
Dareth scanned the surroundings first, checking every shadow, every sound. "It's clear. Nothing moving." He lowered the Aether bubble. "But we won't have long."
Aurelia stepped forward.
With each footfall, the air vibrated more intensely, like the lingering echo of a bell.
The closer she drew to the metal, the heavier her chest felt, as if something inside the guardian recognized the touch of her Aspect before she had even called it.
She stopped within arm's reach.
The armor plates were scorched, fissured from Agnes's fight.
A massive hand, the size of a wagon, rested palm-down in the dirt, inert.
Aurelia swallowed. "This is it."
Dareth stood behind her, tense but steady. "Tell me what you need."
Aurelia placed her hand on the guardian's shattered arm.
Heat surged up her fingertips, not burning, but deep, like touching stone that remembered fire.
Aether swirled around her palm in silver threads that weren't hers.
Her voice shook. "It's… loud."
"Loud?" Dareth echoed cautiously.
"It's full of echoes. Layers. Whoever built it put more than instructions into these things."
A shiver ran through her. Not fear, recognition.
She didn't see images yet, but she felt the threshold of something huge, like a sealed door waiting for the right pressure to open.
Her heartbeat quickened. "I think… I think I can reach it. The connection to the core. The moment it was activated. Maybe even the last thing it sensed before turning on us."
Dareth's jaw set. "Then do it fast. The other guardians shift their patrol every few minutes. We don't want to be here when one loops back."
Aurelia nodded, tightening her fingers on the warm metal.
Her Aspect stirred.
Silver light threaded through her hand, seeping into the cracks of the guardian's armor like water tracing a map.
Her pulse synced with a deeper rhythm, not hers, not the golem's, but something beneath both.
Something waiting.
Dareth whispered, "Aurelia?"
But she barely heard him.
The past was rising to meet her.