Ash was still falling when the government arrived. The
skies above the lower rings remained choked with smoke and
fine gray dust, and every breath Aurek drew carried the metallic
tang of spilled Eidravore. Behind him, Reactor 3's wounded
tower still groaned as if the machine itself felt pain, its cracked
shell leaking thin threads of golden-black light into the air like
veins gone rogue. Ahead, orange warning lights painted the
catwalks in sickly hues, shadows throwing long, jagged lines
across the floor. His own shadow followed at his heels. It looked
normal. It lay flat. It didn't smile.
Workers and salvage teams moved in quick, grim lines
along the platform. Men and women in heavy coats and
breathing masks dragged hoses and harnesses, slapping patches
over fissures, fastening emergency braces to trembling struts.
Somewhere deeper in the station, a pump whined as coolant was
forced back through seared conduits. Above, tiny drones whirled
around the breach like insects drawn to a wound. Their lights
flickered across Aurek's vision like distant stars.
He felt like he was watching all of it from outside his own
skin. His hands, covered in ash and blood, gripped the railing out
of instinct rather than conscious effort. His ears rang with the
afterimage of the reactor's scream. His bones still trembled from
the force that had slammed him to the floor. Underneath all that,
his veins burned with a residual heat, a warmth that wouldn't
dissipate no matter how many breaths he took. He could feel it inhis wrists, his neck, his chest—those faint, pulsing lines of gold
and black that had carved themselves through his body like
branded chain. Under the sleeve of his torn shirt they glowed
dully, hidden by fabric. He tugged the cuff down further,
covering as much as he could. No one noticed. Yet.
"Stay with me," the shift captain ordered as she half-
dragged, half-guided him toward a makeshift triage station near
the outer ring. Her voice was gruff but not unkind. Her own
silver veinmarks gleamed sharp against dark skin, pulsing in
time with her heartbeat. "Keep your eyes open. Don't pass out. If
you see spots, tell me. If you feel cold, tell me. If something
crawls under your skin—"
"I'll tell you," he muttered.
She shot him a sidelong glance, as if checking to see if the
comment was sarcasm. The corners of Aurek's mouth didn't turn
up. It wasn't that he didn't feel anything. It was that everything
he felt was wrapped in the numbness of survival. He still heard
Serrin's voice echoing faintly through his bones, like distant
thunder receding across a valley. He still remembered the way
his shadow had opened its eyes. The memory hovered above the
present like another layer of the world, threatening to bleed
through at any moment.
They reached the triage area. Folding tables had been set
up against a wall; portable lights cast stark brightness over the
scene. Several medics in yellow hazard suits moved among the
wounded, scanning, injecting, patching. The air smelled of
disinfectant and burned hair. A boy with a gash across his
forehead sat staring blankly at the floor, hands shaking. An older
woman coughed up gray phlegm into a stained cloth. Someone
moaned behind a curtain."One more," the captain barked. "Exposure unknown.
Complaints of chest pain. Some minor abrasions. Possible vein
activation."
A medic with deep circles under her eyes motioned to a
chair. "Sit." She didn't have the time or patience to be gentle.
Aurek sat. The chair was cold against his back. He leaned his
head back just enough to feel the chill metal, then looked
forward again. A bright penlight flashed across his pupils. He
flinched at the sudden glare.
"Name?" the medic demanded.
"Aurek Valein."
"Age?"
"Seventeen."
"Bloodline?"
"None."
The woman's brow twitched. Her eyes flicked to the
captain, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug. "We haven't
scanned him yet," the captain muttered. "He says he's
unregistered. Lives in Miralune Sector Five."
"A street rat? Surviving a direct breach?" a voice
murmured behind the medic. Aurek didn't turn to look. He
focused on the medic's fingers as she strapped a band around his
arm, inserted a small sensor, and keyed something on a slate. A
cool sting spread through his wrist. The device hummed faintly
as it sampled his blood.
The medic's brows knit. "Core exposure positive," shereported. "No immediate tissue necrosis. Heart rhythm elevated
but stable. Vein resonance... unusual. High interference. Possible
signature overlap." She looked at the captain. "You said he's
unmarked?"
"He said," the captain replied.
Aurek fought the urge to tug his sleeve down farther. The
faint warmth under his skin pulsed once, like something shifting.
Serrin remained silent. He could feel the shadow's awareness
curled close, but it didn't speak, didn't move. It watched, and that
was all.
"We need to get him to a decontamination chamber,"
another medic said, approaching with a larger scanner. "We can't
risk Mirror Rot. Not after the last time."
"We don't have time," someone else snapped. "Veil
Authority will be here any moment. We need everyone
accounted for and moved out of the immediate zone."
As if summoned by the words, a low hum filled the air. A
moment later, a sleek transport craft descended from the upper
levels, its hull dark and gleaming, engines whisper-quiet. It
hovered over the wreckage for a heartbeat, then extended landing
pads and settled onto a clear spot at the edge of the platform.
Three figures stepped off the ramp. They wore long coats the
color of oil, edges trimmed in gold thread. Their boots were
polished. Their gloves were immaculate. Each carried a tablet
device and a sidearm holstered at the hip. Their faces were
obscured by translucent visors that flickered with data feeds.
The Veil Authority. The government's eyes and hands
when it came to anything involving Eidravore, Nadirth, or
breaches between. They answered only to the Lumen Council.They were not known for compassion.
Conversations died as they approached. Workers lowered
their gaze. Medics straightened. The lead agent's visor displayed
a brief flash of text as she swept the room. "Section Commander
Talia Varis," she introduced herself, though everyone knew. "All
survivors of Reactor Three Core Event, line up. Hold out your
hands for Veil scan. Anyone who refuses will be detained under
Section Nine."
Her voice was flat, bored. As if she had said the same
words a thousand times. Maybe she had.
Aurek stood when the captain jerked her head. He fell into
line with the others—two dozen or so, mostly workers from the
lower rings, one or two from the maintenance teams. He could
feel stares from the injured who couldn't stand. The weight of
exhaustion pressed on his shoulders, but he stood straight.
Dominance wasn't about showing strength when you were
strong. It was about showing control when you were tired.
The Veil Authority officer tapped her slate. A shimmering
green grid projected out, hovering in the air. One by one,
survivors held their hands under the scanner. The grid swept
over their palms, wrists, forearms, charting the flow of Eidravore
resonance like streams of light. For most, the lines glowed faint,
ordinary. Exposure, but nothing novel. Names and numbers
flickered across the visor. Approved. Approved. Approved.
Move on.
When it was Aurek's turn, he extended his hand slowly,
keeping his sleeve down. He didn't need to see Serrin to know
the shadow was paying attention. The grid swept over his skin.
For a second, nothing happened. Then the lines under his skinflared bright. Gold. Black. A pattern that wasn't in any known
database. The officer's visor blinked, then scrolled faster, data
streams stuttering.
Varis's head snapped up. She looked at his face fully for
the first time. For the briefest moment, her expression shifted
from professional detachment to curiosity.
"Name," she said again, though she had probably heard it
earlier.
"Aurek Valein," he repeated.
"Bloodline?" she asked.
"None."
Her visor flickered. "Vein resonance reading says
otherwise."
"I don't have a bloodline," he said. His voice was even. He
wasn't lying, not in the usual sense. No one had ever told him he
had one. No one had ever claimed him. Whatever had happened
to his veins happened an hour ago when the reactor split open
and the Hollow touched him.
"Step aside," Varis ordered. Her tone didn't change. She
gestured to two agents flanking her. They moved forward, hands
resting near their sidearms, not drawing but ready.
Aurek considered refusing. For a heartbeat, he saw the
path—say no, plant your feet, watch as the agents try to drag
you. Serrin's presence coiled tighter, as if waiting. Not yet, he
thought. Dominance wasn't pulling a knife when someone
pointed a sword. It was choosing which blade mattered. He
stepped aside.They took him to a smaller area cordoned off by portable
panels. Inside, a Veil Authority doctor in a pristine black suit
waited with more advanced scanners. The man didn't look at
Aurek's face. He looked at the data. "Never seen this pattern," he
murmured. "Gold-black veins, direct uptake, no tissue decay.
Heart rate elevated but stable. Resonance reads like... like he's
bonded to something, but there's no record. Strange."
"What's in your blood?" Varis asked, standing off to the
side, arms folded.
"Whatever the reactor threw at me," Aurek replied. He
kept his tone measured. He kept his shoulders relaxed. He could
feel the warmth under his skin pulse slightly faster, responding
to his awareness. Serrin remained silent. He appreciated that.
"We don't have time for games," Varis snapped. "Did you
come into contact with raw Eidravore? Did you inhale it? Did
you ingest it? Did you—"
"It blew through me," he said quietly. "It hit everyone on
that bridge. Most of them died. I'm... not dead." He let the words
hang. He didn't apologize for surviving. He didn't claim credit
either. He told the simple truth. It had weight. It made Varis
pause.
The doctor ran another scan. "No sign of Mirror Rot yet.
No cognitive degradation. Reflexes normal. Pupils responsive.
Interesting." He sounded almost pleased. "We can't clear him.
But we can't waste resources on a complete decontamination
right now. We have bigger problems."
"Containment," one of the other agents said, reading a data
feed. "The breach extends deeper than expected. The lower struts
are compromised. We need to deploy netting and foam, isolatethe crack, and get patch drones down there before the next flow.
And we need to keep curious eyes away."
Varis turned back to Aurek. "You're being transferred to a
secured observation unit," she said. "You will be monitored. You
will cooperate. Any sign of abnormal activity in your shadow,
we take action. Am I clear?"
Abnormal activity. He wanted to laugh. Instead, he
nodded. "I don't want to melt the world," he said dryly.
Her visor's display flickered with data again. She didn't
smile. "See that you don't." She turned away. Orders flowed
from her like water: "Deploy drones to strut seven. Reroute
traffic away from ring three. Find any other survivors. If you see
anything from Nadirth crawling up, shoot it until it stops
moving."
They moved on. The doctor busied himself with vials and
samples. Aurek sat back in the chair and let him work. He wasn't
sure whether cooperation would help him later. He only knew
that fighting now would be pointless. He needed time to think.
He needed to figure out what Serrin was. He needed to see what
the Veil Authority would do.
He let his gaze drift across the triage tent. Workers with
bandages pressed to their arms talked in low voices. A young girl
with missing fingers stared at nothing. Medics moved in efficient
rhythms. Outside the partition, the ambient noise of the platform
was a constant hum. Metal groaning, tools clanging, voices
murmuring. Above it all, the occasional deep thud echoed as
patchwork reinforcements locked into place.
Serrin was very quiet. It was unsettling. For a moment,
Aurek wondered if the shadow had retreated completely. Helowered his gaze to his feet. His shadow lay where it should, a
dark smear matching his posture. Nothing about it seemed
different. Nothing about it seemed alive.
But he could feel Serrin watching through it. It wasn't
words, it was a pressure. Like when someone stares at you from
across a room, and you feel heat on your skin even if you don't
see them.
What do you see? he thought. He didn't speak. It didn't
answer. Patience, he thought. Serrin had saved his life, or
claimed to. That didn't mean it was his friend. It didn't mean it
cared. It had a purpose. He just didn't know it.
The minutes stretched. The doctor recorded data,
whispered into a comm about "nonstandard resonance
signatures" and "Lumen labs." Agents barked orders. Slowly, the
triage area emptied as those approved were escorted away. The
air cleared of some of the dust but not the tension.
When a different hum rolled through the air, lower and
heavier than the Veil Authority's craft, heads turned. Aurek
looked up. A second transport was descending, larger, its hull a
shimmering white that reflected the fires below. On the side was
painted a symbol—a stylized star cut by a crescent shadow. The
mark of the Lumen Council's education division. The mark of
the Eclipse Academies.
Whispers rippled through the survivors. "Why are they
here?" someone murmured. "We haven't done anything wrong."
"We're not students," another snorted, bitter. "We're
fodder."
The craft settled. A ramp extended. Two figures emerged.One was a tall woman in a military uniform, her hair braided
tight, silver veinmarks gleaming against dark skin. The other was
a man in simple dark robes, his hands folded behind his back. He
walked with the easy grace of someone who didn't have to hurry
for anyone. His eyes were pale gray, almost colorless. His gaze
swept across the scene, not missing much. As he approached,
Aurek felt a slight pressure in his chest. It wasn't magic. It was
presence.
"I am Master Kyren Tel," the man announced in a calm
voice that carried. "Representative of the Astralis Academy. By
order of the Lumen Council, all survivors of this breach
displaying unusual resonance are to be transported to Astralis for
assessment and quarantine."
The Veil Authority commander, Varis, stiffened. "We
have orders," she began. "All breach survivors fall under Section
Nine. They remain under my—"
Kyren lifted a hand. He didn't raise his voice. "And
Section Twelve overrides Section Nine in circumstances where
individuals exhibit resonance patterns not previously catalogued.
You know this, Commander. We've already received your
preliminary data." His gaze flicked to her visor briefly, then
back. "You can keep the rest. We will take this one."
He pointed. Directly at Aurek.
Silence fell. Aurek felt every gaze in the room slide to
him. The medic's grip on his shoulder tightened involuntarily,
then loosened. The captain's jaw clenched. Varis's visor flickered
through a cascade of data too quickly for him to track.
Kyren continued in that same measured tone, as if nothing
unusual was happening. "You inhaled unrefined Eidravore. It didnot kill you. It did... something. You are the first to display these
patterns. Astralis will know why. Or we will try. Come."
Aurek could have refused. He could have demanded to
know more. He could have said no to both the Veil Authority
and the Academy and vanished into the lower rings, tried to hide.
It might have even worked for a day. But every path he imagined
ended in the same place: the Hollow. Either he went to Astralis
and learned how to survive with Serrin and the veins carved into
his body, or he hid and died anyway when the next breach came
and he had no idea what he was. That second path wasn't
acceptable.
He stood. The medic made a small, surprised sound. The
captain looked at him, something like pity or respect in her eyes.
Varis's visor tilted as if she wanted to memorize his face.
"What's your name?" Kyren asked, though he probably
already knew.
"Aurek," he said.
"Valein," Varis added, as if the surname mattered now. He
didn't know if she meant it as a warning or a record.
"Come, Aurek Valein," Kyren said, stepping aside to let
him pass. "There are answers you will not find down here."
Dominance wasn't always being the biggest person in the
room. Sometimes it was choosing to walk into the unknown
rather than be dragged. Aurek moved forward. He felt Serrin's
awareness shift, lean forward, as if curious. He walked across the
platform, ash crunching under his boots. He passed workers who
looked up at him and quickly away. He passed the doctor, who
murmured a quiet prayer. He passed Varis, who watched himwith a neutral expression. He passed the captain, who nodded
once. He nodded back. He didn't look back beyond that.
As he approached the ramp, he felt the heat of the craft's
engines warming the air. The ramp's surface was smooth, clean,
a stark contrast to the grime under his boots. He hesitated at the
foot. For a heartbeat, the world slowed. Ash still drifted like soft
snow, catching the light from above. The crack in the sky had
sealed, but a faint scar remained, a darker line across the dome.
The wounded reactor tower still leaked tiny threads of gold.
People still moved below, working, surviving. This was his
world. It had been. It might not be anymore.
He placed his foot on the ramp. Serrin's presence hummed
faintly in approval, a sensation like a hand pressed lightly against
his spine. Not a push. Just contact.
"Remember," Kyren said quietly as Aurek passed him,
"the Academy is not a sanctuary. It is a crucible. Those who go
in do not come out the same."
Aurek glanced at him. Kyren's pale eyes met his. There
was no malice there. Only knowledge. Only warning.
"I didn't come to stay the same," Aurek replied. His voice
was low, but steady. He didn't sound like someone who had
never left his sector. He sounded like someone who had been
watching the Hollow for years and had finally decided to meet it
halfway.
Kyren smiled faintly, approvingly. "Then perhaps you'll
survive."
Serrin still didn't speak. But Aurek sensed a ripple of
satisfaction. The shadow liked that answer.He walked into the craft. The interior was a stark, clean
space lined with monitors and restraints. Two seats awaited him,
one facing forward, one facing him. He chose the one that faced
the door. He wanted to see what he was leaving behind.
The hatch closed with a hiss. The engines changed pitch.
Gravity shifted slightly as the craft lifted off. Through the small
window, he watched the platform fall away, the triage station
shrinking. He saw Commander Varis gesturing, dispatching
drones deeper into the breach. He saw workers scattering foam
along the crack. He saw the wounded reactor tower leaning at a
precarious angle, still bleeding light. He saw the pit below, dark
and vast, a mouth waiting for more.
The craft ascended. The outer ring, with its rust and grime,
passed by. The next layer was cleaner. The next cleaner still. Up
they went, through strata of society. Aurek's ears popped. Lights
grew brighter. Air grew thinner. He saw glimpses of shops,
gardens, children playing with floating lights, people who had
never known hunger or ash. They glanced up as the craft passed,
then went back to their lives, uninterested in the evacuation of a
handful of workers.
His own reflection flashed in the glass. For a second, he
saw not himself but the faint outline of Serrin's features
overlaying his. Black hair with a thread of gold glinting near the
temple, pale eyes reflecting the light. Handsome. His hands had
always been calloused, but they looked almost elegant in the
reflection. It wasn't a face you noticed at first glance. It was a
face that lingered when you looked away.
I don't look like a rat, he thought, surprised. I never did.
They just never looked.The craft banked. The Skyhaven's upper levels came into
view. Towers of white stone and glass gleamed. Bridges
stretched between them like spider silk. At the center, suspended
by massive pylons and encased in shimmering light, rose
Astralis—a fortress, a university, a weapon.
It looked like a fortress built to hold light back as much as
to shine it.
As the craft approached, Aurek felt the warmth in his
veins pulse once, like a question. His shadow shifted
fractionally, as if adjusting to a new angle of light.
Ready? he thought.
Serrin didn't answer. But its presence sharpened, focused.
The silence held its own weight. It wasn't absence. It was
anticipation. He understood that. He felt it too.
Dominance wasn't about controlling what you feared.
Sometimes it was about acknowledging fear and walking toward
it anyway.
He leaned back in his seat, keeping his gaze on the glass,
on the academy looming larger. He remembered the feel of the
reactor's light ripping through him. He remembered the taste of
ash. He remembered the sound of his shadow speaking for the
first time. He remembered the pressure of the world shifting.
He was leaving the lower rings. He was leaving the life he
knew. He was going into a place built to train those who would
face the Hollow. And he had a piece of the Hollow inside him,
watching, waiting. Maybe that was why they wanted him. Maybe
that was why he needed to go.
He let himself smile, just slightly. Not a grin. Notarrogance. A small curve of the lips that didn't reach his eyes. A
sign to himself that he chose this, not because he had no options,
but because he wanted to see what came next.
The craft angled toward the docking bay. The lights of
Astralis washed over the hull. The ramp inside the bay lowered.
Air hissed. Voices murmured outside. He straightened.
Serrin whispered then, the first words since the explosion.
They came soft, almost like a sigh.
"You climb well," it said.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. They both knew he
wasn't done climbing.