The Archive's council chamber hummed with restrained power.
Seven sigils glowed along the circular wall, one for each Crown. Their envoys filled the air with static argument—voices rising, overlapping, no one listening.
At the center stood Vonix, still as carved stone.
He let them speak. Every accusation, every demand—it was noise to him.
"Your recruit destabilized the resonance fields!"
"Containment was breached for forty seconds—unacceptable!"
"The Dominion demands access to the subject for testing!"
Vonix raised one hand. Silence fell like a blade.
"Enough," he said. "Connor Vale remains under the Archive's care. He's not a weapon for the Crowns to dissect."
The Ice envoy's tone was sharp. "Then you're hiding something. Even the Archive answers to balance."
Vonix's expression didn't shift. "Balance exists because we hold what none of you should touch."
A ripple of unease moved through the chamber.
The Fire Dominion envoy leaned forward, his holographic flames flickering. "And if that thing decides to touch you first?"
Vonix turned his head slightly. "Then I'll burn with it before I hand it to you."
The room went still.
◇◇◇
A soft chime cut the tension. The door opened.
Sarah Avelon stepped in.
No guards had announced her; no clearance had been logged. Yet the Archive's doors opened as if expecting her.
She moved like someone who'd already been here before—graceful, efficient, utterly calm. The light from the sigils bent faintly toward her as she passed, as if acknowledging something within her.
"Miss Avelon," Vonix said. "You weren't summoned."
"I don't need to be."
She stopped beside the council ring. Her eyes—silver threaded with faint blue—reflected the Aether lines crawling beneath the glass floor.
"I came because your Core pulsed outside its spectrum," she said simply. "It interfered with my network across Avalar."
The Fire envoy frowned. "And how would you know the Archive's frequency?"
Sarah's gaze flicked toward him. "Because I built half of your Dominion's stabilizers. You'd be surprised what I still have access to."
A long pause followed. The temperature in the room seemed to shift.
Vonix studied her. "You're not here to help."
"No," Sarah replied. "I'm here to confirm a theory."
Her voice remained steady, analytical, detached. "The pulse isn't growing weaker—it's synchronizing. That means whatever's inside your Core has begun adapting."
One of the envoys inhaled sharply. "Adapting? To what?"
"Us," she said. "It's learning your rhythm."
The Fire delegate half rose. "You're suggesting the Core is alive?"
Sarah's expression didn't change. "Alive? No. But aware, perhaps."
Vonix's voice dropped. "That's impossible."
Sarah turned her eyes toward him. "You said that the first time too."
The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.
Without another word, she turned and left. The doors sealed behind her, and for several long moments, no one spoke.
Vonix exhaled slowly, the faintest crack in his composure. "She was never supposed to see that data."
The Ice envoy's voice was cold. "Then your secrets have caught up to you, Arbiter."
◇◇◇
Far below, in the containment floor, Connor felt the hum change again. Softer this time, almost curious.
She heard it too, the voice whispered. The one who listens through machines.
Connor pressed a hand to the glass. "Who are you?"
A memory waiting for a name.