The first thing Elias noticed that morning was the silence.
No clang of tools, no hiss of steam, no low hum of the old machines. The Collective's base felt empty, like the breath had been sucked out of it overnight. When he rose, the cot creaked beneath him, echoing through the metal corridors.
Lyra wasn't there.
He stepped into the main hall. Only the old man — the one with mechanical eyes — remained, hunched over a terminal that flickered between static and symbols. Lines of code danced across the screen, vanishing and reappearing faster than any human could type.
Without looking up, the man said, "You're awake."
"Where is everyone?" Elias asked.
"Gone to scavenge near the lower ring. Skyguard's been sweeping for unregistered tech." The man finally looked up. His mechanical eyes clicked softly. "You made quite an impression last night."
"I didn't do anything."
"That's the problem," the man said, turning back to the screen. "You didn't have to."
Elias watched him work. The screen's flicker seemed to sync with the pulse in his wrist. He took a step closer, drawn by something he couldn't name.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Listening," the old man said. "Every system in Aetherion speaks. The Core hums, the conduits whisper. You can't hear it until you know what to listen for." He paused. "But you hear it already, don't you?"
Elias hesitated. "I… think so."
The old man smiled faintly. "Then the mark isn't just decoration."
Before Elias could ask, the terminal's glow turned white-hot. The screen burst into static, and a voice — metallic, distant — broke through:
"Unauthorized access. Core interference detected."
The entire base trembled. Lights flickered. Dust rained from the ceiling.
Elias stumbled back, clutching his wrist — it burned like molten iron. The mark flared, tendrils of faint light snaking up his arm. He fell to his knees.
"Stop!" the old man shouted, slamming a control panel. "You're drawing power from the grid!"
"I'm not—" Elias gasped. "I'm not doing anything!"
But something was doing it through him. The machines all around began to hum in unison, their dormant circuits flaring to life. Drones lifted from benches, eyes flickering crimson, and a blinding pulse rippled through the hall.
Then — silence again.
The light vanished. The machines fell still. Elias collapsed, breath ragged.
The old man approached carefully. "What… did you just do?"
Elias looked at his wrist. The mark was fading again, the glow retreating into his skin. "I don't know."
Hours later, the others returned — Lyra among them, her face streaked with grease and worry.
"What the hell happened here?" she demanded. "We saw a surge from the market! Half the city flickered out!"
The old man gestured toward Elias. "Ask your friend."
Lyra turned sharply. "What did you touch?"
"Nothing," Elias said, tired. "It happened when I was near the terminal."
She folded her arms. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't care if you do."
That answer caught her off guard. There was no arrogance in his voice — just exhaustion, like he'd already lived this argument before. She knelt beside him anyway, scanning his wrist. The mark was dull again, but faint traces of light still lingered under the skin.
"What is that thing?" she whispered.
Elias met her gaze. "Maybe a curse."
"Or a key," the old man muttered.
Both turned to him. His mechanical eyes glowed faintly blue. "When the system flared, it didn't attack him. It recognized him. The Core tried to communicate."
Lyra frowned. "You're saying he's connected to the Core?"
"I'm saying," the old man said quietly, "he might be something it's been waiting for."
That night, they gathered around a dim lantern. The other drifters sat in silence while the old man explained.
"The Core is older than Aetherion itself. The Architects built this world around it — some say it's what keeps every island from falling. Skyguard claims it's a machine, but no one's been able to access its center for generations."
Lyra leaned forward. "And you think Elias can?"
"I think he already did."
Elias felt every eye turn toward him. He didn't want this — the attention, the meaning, the weight. "I didn't come here to save anything," he said quietly.
"Then why are you here?" Lyra asked.
He stared into the flickering light. "Because I died. And then I woke up here."
No one spoke.
Finally, the old man broke the silence. "If what you say is true, then death is not an end for you — it's a door. And every door leads to another world."
Elias clenched his fists. "You make it sound like a gift."
"It could be," the old man said. "Or a burden."
Later, when the others slept, Elias slipped outside.
The city shimmered below, lights like dying stars scattered across broken towers. The air was cold and thin. He sat on the edge of the platform, legs dangling above the void, and stared into the clouds that glowed faintly from lightning below.
Lyra found him there.
"You're leaving?" she asked softly.
"Not yet."
She came closer, sitting beside him. For a while, neither spoke. The wind carried the distant sound of engines and sirens. Somewhere far above, the golden spire of the Core flickered, calling.
Finally, she said, "When I was a kid, I thought the Core was alive. Like a god watching over us. Then I grew up and realized gods don't save people. They just watch while we fall."
Elias looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Maybe they're waiting for someone who will."
Lyra studied him. "And you think that's you?"
He shook his head. "I think I'm just another ghost trying not to disappear."
Then the sound came — low, mechanical, distant.
A vibration beneath their feet.
Elias stood. Across the sky, one of the distant islands flared — golden, then red — before collapsing inward like it was being devoured by light. The shockwave rolled through the clouds, shaking the bridges.
Lyra grabbed his arm. "That's not natural!"
"No," Elias whispered. His wrist glowed again, responding to the light.
He saw flashes — not visions, but fragments. A chamber of impossible geometry. Voices whispering in languages older than sound. A pulse, deep and alive, echoing inside his skull.
Find the center.
Every world begins there.
Then the vision shattered. He fell to one knee, clutching his head. Lyra held him steady, her voice distant, almost swallowed by the hum.
"Elias! What did you see?"
He opened his eyes. The glow in them hadn't faded yet.
"The Core," he said quietly. "It's breaking."
End of Chapter 4