The morning over Auralis wasn't light, but a breath. It rose and fell over the domes of the Awakened, crept along the glass ribs of the new buildings, and flickered across the skin of those who slept. Alaric sat with his back against a support beam, listening. Not for footsteps, not for drones. For that other sound. The one that had been coming since the collision of lights.
A humming from underground, so deep that it was more felt than heard. Each pulse struck his ribs like a silent handshake.
"You hear it too?" Rhea stepped out from the shadow of an arcade. In her hand, she held a measuring device whose display lit up in long, blue pulses.
"Since night fell," said Alaric. "It sounds... older."
Rhea nodded. "Subharmonic signatures. Not from the golden Network. Not from Malrik's remains either. Something that lies beneath."
Before Alaric could answer, a fine gold flickered across the back of his hand. He placed his fingers on it, as if calming an unrest, and closed his eyes.
