They found the vault by accident.
Cael had been following a faint frequency — a pulse on the edge of perception. Not sound. Not vision. Just pressure.
Like gravity, but coded.
Lira spotted the old Lock glyphs buried beneath moss and sediment.
"This was a Thirian testing zone," she said, brushing ash off the seal. "Dead sector."
"So what's still broadcasting?"
"Nothing should be."
But the doors opened.
Smoothly.
Like they'd been waiting.
The inside of the vault wasn't decayed — it was preserved.
Sterile corridors.
Fluorescent lights still flickering overhead.
Rows of sealed alcoves lining the walls, each with a stasis tank inside — dark, cracked, but humming.
And inside those tanks?
Bodies.
Dozens.
All marked.
All incomplete.
"These are failed anchors," Lira said, stepping back. "Stasis-locked. The system froze them before the break cycle completed."
"They're not dead?"
"They're worse."
Cael stepped forward.
And that was enough.
Every single stasis tank lit up.
One by one.
Then all at once.
The tanks drained.
And the failed Thirians stepped out.
Jerky.
Pale.
Silent.
But standing.
And all of them turned to face Cael.
Lira gripped her blade.
"They're responding to a proximity ping."
"From me?"
"From your identity class. You just inherited command over a squad of corpses."
One of them stepped forward.
His skin was cracked porcelain. Voice ruined.
But when he spoke, it echoed with layers — voices of others behind him.
"Anchor-class signal confirmed."
"Awaiting operational thread."
"I don't have one," Cael said, barely audible.
"Then they'll wait until you do."
"Wait how long?"
"Forever."
"Why?"
"Because to them," Lira said, stepping beside him, "you're not a person. You're a trigger."
Suddenly — movement on the monitors.
A signal spike.
Something entering the outer corridor.
Solin.
He stood at the threshold, helmet off, pale eyes sharp.
He looked at the failed Thirians — all standing, all still — and then at Cael.
"Impressive," he said calmly. "Most of us had to earn our followers."
Cael didn't respond.
"But you don't know what to do with them, do you?"
"What do you want?"
Solin smiled slightly.
"Same thing your system does."
"To wake the rest?"
"No."
"To end you before they do."
End of Chapter 15: The Dead Don't Need Permission