The passage widened without warning, a breath of open space after hours of crawling through stone. Aiden steadied the lantern, its flame paling against a soft, internal light that seeped from the rock itself. Veins of blue mana ran in tangled ribbons under the surface—alive, whispering. The air tasted metallic, electric.
Lyra stepped ahead first. "By the Makers… the central junction."
She brushed a hand over the nearest vein; sparks drifted up her fingertips like fireflies. "These conduits carried the planet's life flow. If we're this close, the core's heartbeat can't be far."
Eira crouched, pressing her palm to the floor. "It's warm. Almost… responsive."
Her voice held wonder and fatigue in equal measure.
Aiden crouched beside her. Under his hand, the faint thrum matched his pulse. Since entering the under-vaults that rhythm had followed him—an echo in his chest he couldn't separate from himself. "Feels like it's breathing through me," he murmured.
Lyra turned. "Maybe it is. The ancient records said the conduits needed dual resonance to stay stable. If the male half of creation vanished, the whole system might've gone dormant—until you arrived."
"Great," Aiden said dryly, rubbing his wrist. "So now I'm a battery."
Eira smiled faintly. "Better a battery than extinct."
They moved deeper. The tunnel became a cathedral of glass and stone, every arch pulsing with slow light. Rivers of luminous fluid crossed beneath transparent bridges, converging toward a single pillar that rose from the abyss like the spine of the world.
Lyra stopped at the edge. "This is the Junction of Veins. If we restore flow here, the surface might breathe again."
Aiden studied the abyss. Each pulse sent ripples of light chasing across the walls. "It looks alive… but starved."
He took a step forward; the pillar brightened, reacting to his proximity. Lyra's eyes widened. "It recognizes you."
Eira's breath caught. "That means it still remembers balance."
They descended a spiral ramp cut into the stone until they reached a platform at the base of the pillar. Runes glimmered along a dais, lines waiting to be completed. Lyra knelt and brushed away centuries of dust. "The interface nodes," she whispered. "Touch one—gently."
Aiden hesitated, then placed his hand on the central rune. A surge of warmth climbed his arm; light bled outward in threads, connecting each glyph in sequence until the entire chamber pulsed. The veins overhead flared bright, washing everything in white-blue brilliance.
Images bloomed in the air—ghosts of another age. Fields under twin suns. Cities alive with green. Men and women side by side, their auras weaving into the same rhythm as the conduit. Then, abruptly, darkness: storms devouring the sky, the veins cracking, the light fading to blue.
Eira whispered, "It's showing us what happened."
Lyra nodded slowly, tears glinting at the corners of her eyes. "The moment the balance collapsed."
Aiden pulled his hand away; the vision shattered into drifting sparks. For a moment, silence reigned except for the faint drip of condensation and the slow, living pulse in the walls.
Lyra wiped her eyes. "If we can channel this properly—if you can act as the bridge—it might heal the system without you having to…"
She trailed off, searching for words.
"Without turning me into what they expect," Aiden finished.
The old fear surfaced again, sharp as ever. He forced it down. "We'll find a way that doesn't make me a tool."
Eira nodded. "Then we start by mapping this place. We'll need energy readings, ley charts—"
A distant clang cut her off. The sound of metal on stone. All three froze.
Lyra extinguished the lantern. Only the conduit's glow remained. The echo came again, closer this time, rhythmic and deliberate.
Aiden drew a slow breath. "They found us."
They retreated along the bridge, keeping low. Far above, faint blue motes swirled down—the conduit responding to their movement like a nervous system feeling pain. When they reached the upper ledge, Lyra glanced back. The pillar still pulsed, steady and strong.
"It's stable for now," she whispered. "If the Blades reach it, they could use it to track your signature across the continent."
Aiden looked at the veins snaking outward through the walls. "Then we need to sever our trail."
He knelt, pressed his palm to the rock, and focused on the resonance inside him. For an instant the pulse stuttered, then split—two rhythms, overlapping. The light dimmed, masking the path behind them.
Lyra stared. "You can manipulate the flow."
"Guess I'm learning," he said through clenched teeth. The effort left him dizzy, but the glow faded to a faint shimmer. "Let's move before I pass out."
They followed a narrow ascent that wound through half-collapsed corridors. Each step took them farther from the junction's heartbeat, but the hum never quite left their bones. When they finally emerged into a small chamber with a collapsed roof, starlight filtered through the cracks—thin, pure, a reminder of open air.
Eira leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. "We need rest."
Lyra looked back into the dark tunnel they'd left. "She'll come, you know."
"Seren," Aiden said quietly.
"Yes. The Queen's hound never loses a scent."
Aiden exhaled. "Then we keep moving east. Find the next junction. If we can awaken them one by one, maybe the world starts breathing again."
Lyra met his gaze. "Even if it kills us?"
He almost smiled. "Let's hope it doesn't."
Below, in the depths they had left behind, the veins of mana shimmered once and then settled into a slower, steadier rhythm—like a heart choosing to wait. Moments later, the faint glow of six figures appeared at the far entrance: the Silent Blades descending into the place Aiden had just abandoned.
The hunt had found its trail again.