Eclipsed Horizon — Chapter 18: "The Pulse Between Worlds"
The silence after resonance always felt too human.
A stillness that wasn't mechanical, but alive — like the Dome itself had stopped breathing.
Cael opened his eyes to a colorless void. The ground beneath him wasn't metal, or soil, or sky — it was something between memory and light. His Pulseblade floated beside him, sheathed in liquid fragments of Aether. When he tried to move, the world rippled.
> Not again.
He remembered the last time — the Breach, the collapse, Lyra's scream cutting through the static. But this time, there was no scream. Just a low hum, like the resonance of two frequencies out of sync.
Then came the voice.
Soft. Familiar. Not Lyra's — older. Wiser.
> "You're not supposed to be here, Cael Drayen."
From the shifting haze, a figure emerged — tall, cloaked in luminescent circuitry. Their face was obscured, but their tone was uncomfortably calm.
> "You crossed the membrane between echoes. The Pulse Between Worlds is not meant for mortals."
Cael steadied his stance, gripping the Pulseblade. "Who are you?"
> "A forgotten architect," the figure replied. "One who built the first Eclipser core — the one you now wield as a weapon."
A shockwave rippled through the void. Cael's memories flashed — training fields, Zephyr's skies, Lyra's hand reaching for his, the scar splitting open above them.
> "The Pulse you carry is incomplete," the figure continued. "Two frequencies once bound as one. When your memory was fractured, so was the balance."
Cael's mind throbbed — fragments of another face blurred into Lyra's: someone who looked like her, but older. A scientist's voice overlapping hers.
> "Lyra was never just a cadet, was she?"
The figure tilted its head.
> "She was your stabilizer. Your mirror frequency. And your failure to remember her broke the seal that holds the Resonance Scar in the sky."
The void trembled. Behind the figure, the outline of a shattered city formed — towers of glass suspended mid-collapse. Time itself seemed to fold.
> "Every breach draws Zephyr closer to collapse. Every memory you reclaim brings you nearer to the truth you were made to forget."
Cael's voice sharpened. "Then tell me the truth."
The figure stepped forward. Their cloak dissolved into a thousand shards of light — each fragment revealing a fragment of Cael's reflection within.
> "You're not just remembering," the voice said, echoing from every direction.
"You're re-synchronizing the worlds that were divided the day Eclipsed Horizon fell."
A blinding pulse erupted from his chest. The ground shattered — and through the cracks, Cael saw two skies colliding: one blue and one fractured with red lightning.
> "When the Pulse completes its cycle," the voice warned, "you will have to choose which sky survives."
The world folded inward. The hum became a scream. And Cael awoke — gasping — in Zephyr's infirmary.
Alarms blared.
Monitors spiked red.
Lyra was there, her hand gripping his.
"Cael!"
He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His Pulseband glowed with two intertwined rings — one pulsing blue, the other red.
And for the first time, both were beating in perfect sync.