Time—whatever form it took in this broken realm—had passed.
Aarav couldn't tell if it had been days, weeks, or some strange alternative of both. The sky didn't rotate. The sun, if it existed, was more of a glow in the cracked dome of the world. But his mind had adapted. His body had toughened. And his understanding had grown.
What started with panic and survival was now becoming control.
He sat cross-legged in the center of an abandoned ritual platform—a stone disc etched with runes and circles, floating gently above the broken ground. Solace's voice echoed around him like wind in a cavern.
"That rune is inverted. Counter-clockwise if you want to activate containment, Aarav."
"Right, clockwise means—kaboom. Got it," he muttered.
"No. Clockwise would destabilize the anchor and potentially slice you across three temporal layers. 'Kaboom' is an understatement."
Aarav blinked. "...You really know how to inspire confidence, don't you?"
"Inspiration is not within my designated protocol. Accurate data is."
He chuckled and scratched his head, glancing up at the floating core that pulsed with soft blue light. It was where Solace's consciousness resided, for now. The Beacon.
As Aarav learned more about Rune Theory, he'd begun piecing together what the Shatterfold once was.
A realm of structure and balance, a bridge-world used by higher civilizations as a temporal forge and testing ground for chronomantic tech. But something went horribly wrong. A rift—possibly caused by the same invader that had spread the bloodline across realms—shattered it.
Now, only ruins remained. And things.
Some runes taught him to shield briefly against the creatures. Others allowed him to power dormant relics or see echoes of past events—ghosts of time flickering like old holograms.
Solace explained everything patiently. But that didn't mean Aarav stopped asking nonsense.
"Hey Solace, do you know what pizza is?"
"I do not have direct sensory data on it, but several culinary databases mention it as a flattened, circular food item with diverse edible layers."
"Okay, stop. You're ruining it already."
"Am I incorrect?"
"No, just… robotic."
"I am a robot, Aarav."
"Touché."
He would've laughed harder if a nearby tree hadn't randomly dissolved into vapor. Even reality was unstable here.
But Solace noticed the tension and, in her own way, tried to help.
"If it assists, I can simulate the scent of pizza."
He paused, blinked. "Wait. You can do that?"
"Through your neural interface linked to the Vein sync, yes. Only scent and sound stimuli, though. Taste is… problematic."
The next moment, Aarav burst out laughing as an unmistakable smell wafted into his nose.
"Oregano?! Is that pepperoni?!"
"Correct. And based on your response, effective."
For a minute, everything felt… almost normal.
Fragmented Days Later
Solace's integration improved.
With more rune shards collected, she now had a partial tactical map of the region and upgraded data translation capabilities. They created a crude UI that Aarav could interact with via the rune on his palm—simplified displays, energy levels, trajectory logs.
She even developed a name for their little duo.
"Unit Classification: Spiral Vanguard – Aarav."
"That's too anime even for me," he groaned. "Can't we be like… Rune Buddies or something?"
"Inadvisable."
"Why?"
"It sounds dumb."
He gawked at the glowing orb. "You… you're learning sarcasm."
"I downloaded it from your personality."
Over the span of what Solace estimated as twelve cycles, Aarav's capabilities had changed.
But despite all this, he remained a 17-year-old boy, cracking jokes, asking weird questions, and arguing with an AI over what counted as "real food."
Still, the progress was undeniable.
"You've done well," Solace said, almost… gently.
Aarav, lounging against a broken pillar and drawing rough rune patterns in the dust, looked up.
"Thanks. You're not so bad for a haunted flashlight."
"I will choose not to be offended by that."
They shared a pause, then both said—at the same time:
"...That was kinda funny."