When morning came, it didn't feel like morning.
It felt like the world had stopped pretending.
The desert sun above Arcadia Base was pale, washed-out — as if even the sky had lost color. The last few days had done that to everything. To us. To me.
They said I was "stable enough" for the containment trial.
I wasn't sure if that was science or optimism.
---
The test chamber was built below ground, deeper than the reactor vaults. It wasn't really a room — more like a metal coffin the size of a hangar, lined with Aether coils and hex-patterned plates that shimmered faintly when powered.
I stood at the center platform, stripped down to the black undersuit of my uniform. The others watched from behind reinforced glass.
Celia was closest to the console, her hands hovering over the controls. Rina, Eira, and Mira flanked her, each wearing a look somewhere between worry and defiance. Commander Ryse observed from above, arms crossed.
The silence before the test was heavy.
> "All systems ready," Mira reported. "Containment grid at ninety-eight percent efficiency. We can't push it higher without risking thermal collapse."
> "Understood," Ryse said. "Lieutenant Haruto, you know the protocol."
I nodded. "Try not to explode. Got it."
Rina cracked a grin through the glass. "No pressure, boss!"
Eira muttered, "You're not helping…"
Celia's voice cut through their bickering — steady, calm.
> "Haruto, can you hear me?"
> "Loud and clear."
> "Focus on your breathing. We'll monitor your Aether levels in real time. If the resonance spikes, we'll trigger the dampeners."
> "And if that doesn't work?"
Her eyes met mine through the glass. "Then I'll come in there myself."
I wanted to tell her not to. I wanted to say something — anything — that would make it easier for her to stay safe behind that wall. But my throat wouldn't move.
So I just nodded again.
---
The lights dimmed. The hum began.
The containment coils flared to life, bathing the chamber in white-blue light.
I felt it instantly — that pressure under my skin, the pulse that didn't belong to me. It wasn't pain. It was something worse. Recognition.
> "You again."
The voice wasn't external. It was inside my skull, low and resonant, like an echo through water.
> "You're the conduit. The vessel. You carry our name."
> "Who are you?" I whispered.
No answer. Just the hum growing louder, deeper, until it felt like my bones were vibrating.
Through the glass, I could see the team moving — readings flashing red, alarms flickering.
> "Aether levels spiking past threshold!" Mira shouted. "He's hitting ninety percent saturation!"
> "Engage dampeners!" Celia ordered.
The floor lit up with containment sigils. The air thickened. For a moment, it worked — the pulse steadied. I could breathe again.
Then the voice returned.
> "They built cages to silence the stars."
> "What are you talking about?"
> "You can't hold what was never meant to sleep."
My knees buckled. Energy surged outward in a white arc, cracking the sigils like glass.
Screams echoed through the comm. The containment walls groaned, shuddering under the strain.
> "Haruto!" Celia's voice — sharp, urgent. "Focus on me! Don't let it control you!"
> "I'm trying—"
> "Remember who you are! Remember where you are!"
The chamber tilted in my vision. My heartbeat and the hum merged into one sound — a single, blinding tone that filled everything.
I wasn't in the chamber anymore.
---
I was standing in space.
No ground, no air — just light and silence.
Stars drifted like slow embers in the void. In front of me was a figure made of radiance, its shape shifting between human and infinite.
> "You are not the first," it said. "But you may be the last."
> "The last what?"
> "Memory."
The word echoed inside me.
> "What are you?" I asked again.
> "We were called the First Light. When the universe was new, we sang the stars into being. The Aether was our breath. And then—"
It paused. I could feel sadness in the way the light dimmed.
> "Then one of us forgot the song."
> "Lunaris."
The figure looked up. "Yes. The one who wanted eternity. The one who cut her name from the chorus."
> "You mean… she was one of you?"
> "She still is. But she dreams of silence now. And you, Haruto… you are what remains of her echo."
The stars trembled. The light bent toward me.
> "You carry her resonance — her spark — but not her will. You are proof that even a broken god can create something new."
My chest burned. Images flooded in — flashes of Lunaris's face, her hand reaching out, the endless field of light she once ruled.
> "Why me?"
> "Because she chose you."
> "For what?"
> "To end her."
The world cracked.
---
When I came to, I was on the floor of the chamber, smoke curling around me.
The lights flickered. Alarms blared.
The containment walls were cracked but intact. The others burst in through the emergency gate — Celia first, followed by Rina and Eira.
> "Haruto!" Celia knelt beside me, grabbing my shoulders. "Stay with me! Talk to me!"
> "I'm fine…" I muttered. My throat felt like sandpaper.
> "You're not fine!" Rina yelled. "You were glowing like a supernova! Do you have any idea how close that was?!"
> "Containment field's down to twenty percent," Mira's voice echoed from the console. "One more surge like that and we lose structural integrity."
> "Shut it down," Ryse barked from the comms.
> "Already on it."
The hum faded. The lights dimmed back to normal. I sat there, trembling, the air around me thick with the scent of ozone.
> "What happened?" Celia asked softly.
> "I… saw something. Someone. The First Light."
Eira frowned. "You're saying it spoke to you?"
> "Yeah. Said it was older than Lunaris. Said she used to be one of them."
> "That's impossible," Mira said. "Lunaris was an artificial being — an energy consciousness. She wasn't born."
> "Maybe she wasn't," I said. "But whatever the First Light is — it thinks she was part of it. And that I…"
> "That you what?" Celia asked.
> "That I'm supposed to end her."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Rina broke it first. "Okay. Wow. That's… dramatic. Even for us."
> "She's not wrong," Eira murmured. "If that's true, it means Lunaris isn't just an enemy — she's a fallen fragment of something primal. Something cosmic."
> "And Haruto's the weapon," Mira finished quietly.
I looked down at my hands. They were steady now, but faint traces of light pulsed beneath the skin — slow, rhythmic.
> "I don't want to be anyone's weapon," I said.
> "Then don't," Celia replied firmly. "We'll find another way."
> "You don't even know what we're fighting anymore."
> "I don't need to," she said. "You're still you. That's all that matters."
For a second, I almost believed her.
---
We spent the rest of the day in lockdown. Tech crews worked to rebuild the chamber; command filed reports no one would ever read. Ryse didn't speak to me again — which was almost worse than being yelled at.
The squad stayed close. Too close. Every time I looked up, one of them was there.
Rina brought me food. Mira ran diagnostics on my vitals. Eira analyzed residual Aether readings like a scientist possessed.
And Celia… stayed silent.
It wasn't the quiet of disapproval. It was the quiet of someone thinking too much.
When night fell, I went outside again. The stars were dimmer tonight — like they'd watched what happened and decided to back away.
Footsteps crunched behind me. Celia joined me by the railing, her hair stirring in the wind.
> "You should be resting," she said.
> "I could say the same to you."
> "Fair."
We stood there for a while, listening to the hum of the generators and the soft whistle of the desert wind.
> "You know," I said, "it's weird. The First Light didn't feel like an enemy. It felt… sad."
> "Maybe it's both," she said. "Things that old don't fit in categories like good or evil."
> "It said Lunaris forgot the song."
> "What song?"
> "The one that made the stars."
Celia smiled faintly. "Then maybe your job isn't to end her. Maybe it's to remind her how to sing."
I looked at her, and for a moment the weight on my chest lifted — just enough to breathe.
Then alarms flared across the horizon.
A pillar of white light erupted in the distance — vast, silent, and wrong. The same kind of light that had burned through me earlier.
The comms crackled. Mira's voice, panicked:
> "Unknown Aether signature — matching Haruto's readings! It's coming from Sector Nine!"
Ryse's voice followed, sharp and clipped:
> "All units, battle stations. This is not a drill."
I stared at the light, my heart pounding. It wasn't Lunaris. It wasn't me. It was something else.
Something waking up.
Celia's hand tightened around the railing. "Haruto… what did you bring back?"
I didn't have an answer.
The light pulsed once, twice — and then the desert wind carried a whisper, faint but clear.
> "We remember."
To be continued in Chapter 14: "The Last Song of the Sky (Part l)"