Kaelen's new workstation was a monument to silent desperation. Dozens of screens displayed cascading waterfalls of data—spectrographs, LIDAR maps of the under-city, and real-time seismic readings. His world was now a symphony of light and numbers.
He had built a device, a pack of sensitive harmonic resonators worn on a belt, that translated ambient vibrations into haptic feedback and complex visual icons on a heads-up display. A rumbling train was a slow, orange pulse. A distant collapse was a sharp, red star. It was crude, but it was sight.
Anya watched him, her heart breaking at the intensity of his focus. "Anything?"
Kaelen pointed to his main screen. A faint, persistent green ripple pulsed at the very edge of his sensor range, deep in the "old roots." It was organic, complex, and powerful. Jax.
"He's there. But he's not moving. It's... static. Like a beacon," Kaelen typed.
"He's baiting someone," Anya realized grimly. "But who?"
The answer came a moment later. Kaelen's display flared with a cluster of new signals—precise, mechanical, and aggressive. They were converging on Jax's position from multiple access points. Aethel-Arms.
"They found him. They're boxing him in." Kaelen's fingers flew across the keyboard. "I have a route. It's tight. Dangerous."
"Then we move now," Anya said, checking her rifle. She looked at the silent man, seeing not a broken savant, but a determined hunter with new eyes. "You lead. I'll watch your back."
They descended into the mouth of the under-city, a gaping maw of rust and darkness. Kaelen's world was now a silent, glowing HUD, every vibration a potential threat or a clue. The hunt for their pack's heart had begun, a race against the cold, efficient hunters of Aethel-Arms.