The chamber of the Arbiters was built for silence.
Seven seats stood in a perfect circle of light, each marked by the crest of its Crown. The air hummed faintly, Aether lines running beneath the polished floor like veins under glass.
Vonix stood in the center, hands clasped behind his back, while two Arbiters projected their forms through resonance—holographic, translucent, but heavy with presence.
"The readings from last night were unprecedented," said the Arbiter of Fire, his image flickering with heat. "The surge originated within your tower, Vonix. We have a right to know its cause."
Vonix's expression didn't change. "A fluctuation in the Core containment. The Archive is stabilizing it."
"Stabilizing or concealing?" The Arbiter of Ice's voice was sharp, precise. "You forget, this council exists to prevent imbalance, not to nurture it."
Vonix met her gaze, calm and steady. "If there was danger, you would already be ash."
The hall went still. The Fire Arbiter chuckled lowly. "He's not wrong."
After a long silence, Vonix continued. "The pulse was minor. I'll handle it internally."
"Internally," Ice echoed. "You mean through that recruit of yours—the one the Core reacted to?"
Vonix didn't answer. He simply turned, and the light dimmed as the projections faded one by one.
When the last vanished, the hum beneath the chamber grew deeper, steadier.
Vonix whispered to no one, "If you're awakening again, old friend, let it be gentle this time."
◇◇◇
Thousands of miles away, across the sea of lights that marked Avalar, Sarah Avelon watched data streams flicker across her laboratory monitors. Her tower overlooked the city—silver and glass reflecting a thousand Aether conduits.
The readings were wrong.
She zoomed in on the spike registered two nights prior. The fluctuation didn't match any known pattern. It pulsed like a heartbeat—too precise to be mechanical.
Her assistant, a young researcher with silver implants tracing his temples, stepped forward. "Ma'am, that signature again—frequency match to the Archive surge."
Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Run a filter. Cross-reference with our satellite records."
The machine hummed. Lines of light traced across the holographic map of the world, converging on one location: the Archive Tower.
Sarah folded her arms. "So that's where it began."
"Should we inform the Council?"
She shook her head. "No. They'll waste time debating jurisdiction." Her tone softened slightly. "Prepare the transport vessel. I'll be leaving by dawn."
The assistant hesitated. "To the Archive?"
"To the source," Sarah replied. "If the world's pulse is changing, I want to hear it myself."
◇◇◇
Night fell across Avalar. From her tower, Sarah watched Aether lines pulse beneath the streets—streams of light connecting every generator, every Resonant network, every city heart.
But tonight, for the first time in a century, the rhythm faltered.
A flicker passed through the conduits like a breath caught in the world's throat.
Sarah whispered to the glass, "Don't you dare die on me now."
◇◇◇
Far beyond the Crowns, in smaller nations forgotten by maps, lights dimmed. Machines powered by Aether faltered for seconds at a time.
Farmers stared at tools that no longer hummed. Ships drifted without signal. The world trembled—but too quietly for the Crowns to hear.
And deep beneath the Archive, the Core pulsed once—slow, deliberate, alive.