EMMA'S POV
Morning came differently after the Awakening.
It did not arrive with the usual bells or the disciplined rhythm of the Citadel's schedule. Instead, it seeped in through cracks long ignored—through windows once sealed, through stone that remembered older sunlight. Aren woke before his eyes opened, aware first of sound: not noise, but resonance. A low, steady hum threaded through the air, like the after-vibration of a struck string. It wasn't loud. It didn't demand attention. It simply existed.
He breathed in and felt it pass through him.
For a moment, panic flared—instinct, habit, the fear that the Echo had grown beyond control. But the sensation was different now. Quieter. Balanced. The power no longer pressed against his ribs like something trapped. It rested there, alive but listening.
Aren opened his eyes.
