Kael's cramped, newly assigned alcove within the Silt-Burrows. Night.
Kael found himself not back in his rough surface shack, but shoved into a shallow, damp alcove deep within the Silt-Burrows. It offered no privacy, only cold, hard rock and the persistent, low rumble of the earth above.
He peeled off his soaked tunic, wincing as the rough fabric dragged across the new Weaver Scar stretching along his collarbone. The line was a faint, angry red, a tiny monument to Grond's agony that had briefly become his own. The Scar was itchy, hot, and thrummed with a residual flicker of the brute's despair.
He still felt the residual rage, too—a furious, irrational desire to break something. He forced himself to breathe, counting the dim, sputtering lamps in the distance, performing the mental exercises required to re-establish the boundaries of his Anima and push Grond's grafted emotions back into the spiritual background.
A rough parchment map was spread before him, anchored by two smooth, black river stones. This was the intelligence Terris had provided: a detailed schematic of the Solus Perimeter—the massive Theocracy garrison guarding the border of the Shattered Continent.
Sera crouched beside him, slicing a piece of dried smoked lizard with a short, wicked knife. She watched him with an unsettling intensity.
"You took the hit clean," she acknowledged, gnawing the meat. "Terris is impressed. He doesn't impress easily."
"I suffered Scars for a map," Kael muttered, tracing a line on the parchment labeled Forbidden Sector 7. "Where is the special detention facility?"
"It's not marked, Kael. It's fluid, deep within the Solus Citadel," Sera explained, pointing to a central, heavily fortified icon. "But Sectors 6 through 8 are their new research wings. If they're using Elara as bait or a conductor, that's where she'll be. It's built right beneath one of the active Aether-Motes."
Kael stared at the Mote icon—a geometrically perfect crystal radiating lines of power. The Aether-Motes were not just prisons for the Gods; they were the Theocracy's ultimate power source.
They're not just holding her. They're tapping into her, Kael realized, a fresh wave of protective fury overriding the residual Graft-rage.
The Fragment
He leaned closer to the map, trying to visualize the spiritual reality beneath the sterile lines of ink. He pushed his mind to sense the flow, the same way he sensed a code fault. He wasn't trying to Weave, but merely to observe the energetic structure.
Suddenly, the map blurred. The light in the alcove seemed to dim, and a sound that was not sound—a vibration against the inner membrane of his spirit—forced itself into his awareness.
**"Order...Fractured...Rebuild..."**
The words were not in any language Kael knew, yet he understood them perfectly. They were cold, vast, and geometric—the voice of pure logic distorted by cosmic trauma. It was the Shattered Essence of the God Solus.
The whispering voice directed Kael's gaze to a tiny, overlooked label on the map near Sector 7: [Unstable Flux Point]. The location was suspiciously close to where his sister was likely being held.
The voice wants me to go there, Kael thought, fighting the terrifying compulsion. It wants to use me to access that point.
Kael instantly pulled back his consciousness, gasping for breath. The sudden withdrawal of the cosmic intrusion left him dizzy and cold, the sound of the whispers replaced only by the mundane drip of water down the cavern wall.
Sera watched his sudden panic, her hand resting near her knife hilt. "What did you see?"
Kael wiped sweat from his brow, shivering. He couldn't tell her about the whispers. No Weaver would trust a man who heard the voice of the shattered Pantheon.
"The sectors are layered," Kael lied, trying to sound professional. "Sector 7 has an unmapped power source. If they're using Elara, they'd hook her there." He tapped the [Unstable Flux Point] label. "I need an entrance to Sector 7. A weak point. And I need equipment to shield my code. If they're Weaving on a grand scale, the psychic backlash will melt my mind."
Sera's suspicion didn't vanish, but her greed returned. "Shielding costs serious coin, Kael. More than a single Code-Fix. It'll take risks."
Kael looked down at his new Scar, then back at the map. The whispers of the God Solus mingled with the ghostly echo of Grond's rage, creating a powerful, conflicting urge within him: one for cold, geometric Order, the other for violent, primal release.
"Then tell Terris I'm ready for the next job," Kael said, standing up, his fear replaced by a chilling clarity. "I'll Weave for all of them. But every thread I risk, I gain a piece of that shield, and a step closer to Sector 7. Find me the next Code that needs fixing."