Power returned like a violent heartbeat.
One second, silence ruled the colony.
The next, the world exploded back into motion.
Engines roared. Turbines screamed. Conveyor belts snapped into movement with bone-jarring force. The sudden return of sound hit the mining shaft like a shockwave, slamming into workers who were still frozen in disbelief.
Kael staggered where he stood, fingers still wrapped around the cold railing.
It was too loud.
Too fast.
Too wrong.
The machines didn't ease back into life. They lunged, as if trying to erase what had just happened. The drills bit into rock with feral intensity, spraying sparks into the dim red emergency glow that still flickered along the walls.
People started shouting.
"Grid's back!"
"Check your stations!"
"Move, move!"
Supervisors barked orders louder than necessary, their voices strained and sharp. Fear disguised as authority.
No one wanted to talk about the silence.
Because talking about it would make it real.
Kael forced himself to stand upright, though his legs felt hollow. His ears rang violently, caught between the memory of absolute stillness and the brutality of returning noise.
But something wasn't right.
The sound had come back.
The world had come back.
Yet part of the silence remained.
Inside him.
He felt it like an afterimage burned into his mind.
A hollow space where the machines couldn't reach.
Where the noise couldn't follow.
And inside that space…
Something lingered.
Kael swallowed hard and pushed away from the railing. Workers brushed past him, their movements frantic, desperate to return to routine. Routine meant safety. Routine meant control.
Routine meant pretending nothing impossible had just happened.
But Kael couldn't pretend.
Because the whisper was still there.
Faint. Fragile. Almost lost beneath the roar of engines.
But real.
He tried to ignore it.
Tried to focus on the world around him—the grinding metal, the smell of heated dust, the tremor of heavy machinery vibrating through the floor.
Normal things.
Safe things.
Yet the more he tried to drown it out, the clearer the feeling became.
Not louder.
Closer.
Like something standing just beyond a thin wall.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
Kael's breathing grew shallow.
No, he thought. No, no, no.
This wasn't happening.
People didn't hear things like this and stay whole. He'd seen what happened to those who cracked under pressure. They started with whispers. Hallucinations. Paranoia.
Then one day they were gone.
Reassigned.
Erased.
He couldn't let that be him.
Not now.
Not after everything he had just seen.
Kael pushed forward through the chaos, forcing himself to move with the flow of workers heading toward the upper lifts. If he kept moving, kept acting normal, maybe the feeling would fade.
Maybe it would leave him alone.
But halfway to the lift platform—
It spoke again.
Not in sound.
In knowing.
You heard.
Kael stopped walking.
The world blurred around him as people shoved past, annoyed shouts barely registering in his ears.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
That wasn't his thought.
It didn't feel like his thoughts.
It carried a weight, a depth that made his own mind feel small in comparison. Calm. Vast. Patient in a way that terrified him more than anger ever could.
"I'm losing it," he whispered under his breath.
A worker shot him a strange look before hurrying on.
Kael pressed a trembling hand against his temple, squeezing his eyes shut.
This is stress. Trauma. Oxygen deprivation.
Explain it. Rationalize it. Control it.
But deep down, a truth he didn't want clawed its way upward.
This was the same presence from the silence.
The same impossible awareness that had filled the void when the machines died.
And it hadn't left with the noise.
It had stayed.
With him.
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
"Why me?" he whispered, the words escaping before he could stop them.
For a long moment, nothing answered.
Only the deafening roar of machinery.
Only the frantic rhythm of a colony pretending to be normal.
Then—
A flicker.
Not words.
Not even a thought this time.
A feeling.
Like distant starlight brushing the edge of his mind.
Recognition.
Not curiosity.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
As if whatever it was had already known him.
As if this moment had always been inevitable.
Kael's breath caught in his throat.
"No," he said weakly, shaking his head. "No, I don't want this."
He didn't know what "this" was.
But he knew it was dangerous.
Because if something could reach into the machines…
If something could bend reality into silence…
Then being noticed by it was the worst thing that could happen to anyone.
A harsh buzzer blared overhead, snapping him back into the moment. The lift platform clanged loudly as it locked into place, its grated doors sliding open with a metallic shriek.
Workers surged forward, eager to escape the lower levels.
Kael let himself be carried with them.
Step by step, he moved mechanically onto the platform, the crowd pressing tight around him. The air smelled like sweat and overheated circuitry. Someone cursed loudly. Someone else laughed too hard.
Normal sounds.
Human sounds.
He clung to them desperately.
The lift began to rise, rattling violently as it climbed the long shaft toward the surface.
And slowly, painfully, the presence retreated.
Not gone.
Just… distant.
Like a tide pulling back from the shore.
Kael sagged slightly in relief, his grip loosening on the rail.
But as the platform climbed higher, a final realization settled into his bones.
Heavy. Unavoidable.
This wasn't over.
The silence hadn't been an accident.
The whisper hadn't been imagination.
Something had reached into the heart of the world and touched him—
And now it knew where he was.
The lift burst into the upper level with a thunderous clang, doors sliding open to the blinding glare of artificial daylight.
Workers spilled out into the noise and motion of the colony above.
Kael followed slowly, his legs unsteady, his thoughts fractured.
Around him, life continued.
Unchanged.
Unaware.
But inside him, something had shifted permanently.
Because beneath the roar of engines and the illusion of normalcy…
He could still feel it.
Faint as dying starlight.
Waiting in the dark.