By now, Cael had stopped asking whether something was real.
If it spoke in his voice — he listened.
If it didn't — he ran.
The hard part was deciding which scared him more.
They reached the edge of Relay Node 3-Down, an abandoned interface platform built to carry Lock commands across dead sectors. The place looked like a severed nerve — wires pouring out of concrete, antennae bent like broken limbs.
Lira scanned the entrance.
"Radiation's minimal. No recent scav footprints."
"So it's clean?"
"As clean as memory rot can get."
Inside, Cael touched a dormant interface terminal.
It lit up.
Immediately.
USER: ARIK VELAUTHORITY LEVEL: DEPRECATED, LEGACY-TRUSTEDLAST COMMAND ISSUED: 6 HOURS AGOPULSE: NETWORK TEST — REACTIVATION MODE
Cael's blood went cold.
"I didn't do that."
Lira turned.
"Six hours ago we were asleep."
He stared at the screen.
"It sent a command without me."
"This is it," Lira said quietly. "This is how it starts."
"What does?"
"Separation of control. The Keymark's running parallel instincts now. It's not just reading you — it's issuing choices in your name."
Cael's voice was flat.
"It's using me as a remote."
They didn't have time to argue.
Outside, something staggered into the relay path.
Not a scav.
Not an agent.
A man.
Sort of.
His skin shimmered with pattern-deep scars — spirals carved too deep. His eyes were wrong. Too wide. Too still.
He wasn't dead.
But death had clearly tried.
"Failed Thirian," Lira breathed.
"What does that mean?"
"It means they tried to wake him… and forgot to bring him back."
The man — the echo — opened his mouth.
And only static came out.
His body flickered. Not digitally. Chronologically.
Parts of him lagged a second behind the rest.
Then the Keymark on Cael's arm flared.
The failed Thirian froze.
His eyes locked on Cael.
And he knelt.
Not reverent.
Just… obedient.
"He sees you as a command thread," Lira said. "He's recognizing anchor dominance."
"I didn't ask him to."
"You don't have to anymore."
Cael stepped forward, hands shaking.
The failed Thirian reached up.
Touched Cael's cheek.
Then whispered — not through lips, but through the network itself:
"Finish what they started."
And then the man disintegrated.
Not burned.
Revoked.
Like the system had finally remembered he wasn't supposed to still be alive.
End of Chapter 14: Waking Isn't the Same as Consent