The chamber was buried beneath the Civic Core—sealed with four biometric locks, soundproofed, shielded from electromagnetic interference and most importantly, from questions.
Toren stood alone under the blue-white glow of a sterile light panel. The walls were lined with mirrored plating to monitor vitals, and a single med-drone hovered idle nearby.
On the table: a thin glass vial filled with shimmering particulate—iridescent like powdered crystal, yet weightless as smoke.
Echo Dust Protocol – Diluted Form: 6% potencyDelivery Method: Sublingual mist. Controlled dispersion. Projected duration: 3–5 minutes
System Warning: Unstable. Trial usage not advised.
Override?
He stared at the warning.
Breathed once.
And pressed YES.
The mist hissed—barely audible.
Cool vapor spread across the base of his tongue, dissolving instantly.
For a second—nothing.
Then the chamber twitched.
Not physically.
But perceptually.
The lights didn't flicker—but dimmed in his mind. The mirrored walls began to stretch slightly. No sounds changed—but he heard something beneath silence.
A hum. A resonance. As if the Force itself had developed a voice, low and familiar.
Then a jolt—
Not pain. Not pleasure.
A pull.
He stumbled back, caught himself on the wall—and the system blurred in his vision.
Cognitive Channels: OpenedForce Perception: Elevated
Unregistered Echo: DetectedSignature: [UNKNOWN]
Something stood across from him.
Not in the room.
But through it.
He blinked.
And it spoke—not aloud, not in his head, but somewhere between breath and instinct.
"You are not the first."
His knees buckled.
And the vision shattered.