Rourke woke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind—
but the heavy stillness that followed catastrophe.
His body felt wrong.
Every breath was shallow, controlled, as if something inside him might break if he inhaled too deeply. When he tried to move, a sharp pulse shot through his chest, forcing a low groan from his throat.
Seren's voice snapped instantly.
"Don't.
Don't move."
He opened his eyes.
She was kneeling beside him, eyes rimmed red, jaw tight with restrained anger. One hand hovered just above his chest, afraid to touch.
"How long was I out?" he asked hoarsely.
Seren exhaled slowly.
"Long enough for me to consider hitting you when you woke up."
A weak smile tugged at his lips.
"Good sign?"
"No," she said flatly. "Very bad sign."
Damage Assessment
The fractured realm was quieter now, as if it were afraid of drawing attention. The Forge stood dark in the distance, its light dim and irregular.
The Memory Core floated nearby, its glow fractured.
"You lost consciousness for seven minutes and twelve seconds."
Rourke frowned.
"That doesn't sound long."
"For a Heartbearer," the relic replied,
"it is unacceptable."
Seren crossed her arms.
"Translation: you almost died."
Rourke tried to sit up again—
and immediately felt his crown pulse in warning.
He froze.
"…What's wrong with my crown?"
The Memory Core dimmed.
"Hunter Prime introduced a resonance fracture.
Your crown is no longer stable under sustained output."
Rourke swallowed.
"How bad?"
The relic hesitated.
Which was worse than any answer.
"Repeated high-output usage will accelerate collapse synchronization."
Seren's breath caught.
"In human terms."
The guide answered softly:
"If he pushes himself again like that,
he won't come back as himself."
Rourke closed his eyes.
So that was the cost.
Seren's Anger
Seren stood abruptly, pacing a tight circle.
"You didn't even hesitate," she said, voice shaking.
"You didn't think.
You just… stepped in front of it."
Rourke kept his eyes closed.
"He would've killed you."
"No," she snapped.
"He would've analyzed me.
There's a difference."
Rourke opened his eyes and met her gaze.
"I wasn't taking the chance."
Seren stopped pacing.
Her voice dropped.
"I didn't ask you to."
Silence pressed in.
The Memory Core drifted slightly away, giving them space.
Seren's shoulders sagged.
"You don't get to decide that my life is worth less than your power," she said quietly.
Rourke felt the words sink deep.
"I wasn't choosing power," he said.
"I was choosing you."
She laughed bitterly.
"And if that choice turns you into a monster?
If next time you don't recognize me?"
Rourke didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
The Forbidden Truth
The Memory Core pulsed brighter, interrupting gently.
"Emotional volatility increases resonance instability.
This discussion, while valid, must be postponed."
Seren shot it a glare.
"Of course you'd say that."
Rourke pushed himself upright carefully this time, moving slowly until the crown's pressure eased.
"We need a solution," he said.
"Prime isn't going to wait for me to recover."
The relic hovered closer.
"There is… an alternative."
Seren and Rourke both looked at it.
Rourke's voice was steady.
"Then say it."
The Memory Core's light dimmed until it was nearly black.
"The Solarii discovered a technique
that negated gravity entirely—
not by bending it,
but by removing it from existence."
Seren's eyes widened.
"That's Null Gravity."
Rourke nodded slowly.
"You mentioned it before.
Why does it sound like you're afraid of it?"
The relic's glow flickered.
"Because Null Gravity was never mastered.
Only attempted."
The guide added quietly:
"Every Solarii who tried it… died."
The words hung heavy.
Seren whispered,
"Every one?"
"Yes."
Rourke stared at the darkened sky.
"So that's the price."
Why It Was Forbidden
The Memory Core projected an image—
a Solarii chamber collapsed into a perfect sphere of nothingness.
No debris.
No light.
Just absence.
"Gravity defines structure," the relic explained.
"Remove it entirely, and reality loses cohesion."
Rourke frowned.
"Then how would this help?"
"Because Hunter Prime does not bend gravity.
He defines it.
Null Gravity removes his authority."
Seren clenched her fists.
"At the cost of… everything else?"
The relic pulsed once.
"At the cost of stability."
Rourke exhaled slowly.
"And my crown?"
The relic did not soften its answer.
"Null Gravity will tear it apart—
unless you learn to localize the absence."
Seren shook her head.
"That's insane."
Rourke smiled faintly.
"Has anything about this been sane?"
The Anchor Problem
The Memory Core floated closer to Seren.
"There is one reason you have not collapsed yet."
Seren stiffened.
"What?"
The relic turned toward Rourke.
"Your human anchor remains strong."
Rourke blinked.
"My what?"
Seren realized at the same time.
She froze.
"You mean… me."
The relic pulsed.
"Correct.
Your emotional connection to Seren
provides a stabilizing constant."
Seren stared at Rourke.
"That's not…
that's not a job I agreed to."
Rourke swallowed.
"You don't have to do this."
She laughed softly, eyes wet.
"Too late."
The Choice
The fractured world trembled faintly—
a reminder that time was moving.
Rourke clenched his fists.
"If I don't learn this… Prime wins.
The Engine wins."
Seren stepped closer, placing her hand lightly over his chest.
"Then you don't do it alone," she said firmly.
"You try it once—carefully.
And if it starts to pull you apart, we stop."
The Memory Core hesitated.
"…That violates Solarii safety protocols."
Seren shot it a look.
"Your protocols are extinct."
The relic went silent.
Rourke met Seren's gaze.
"You don't owe me this."
She smiled sadly.
"Maybe not.
But I choose it."
The Memory Core pulsed at last.
"Very well.
Lesson Eight will begin."
Rourke took a steady breath.
"Teach me how to remove gravity."
The Forge flickered back to life—
darker than before.
And somewhere far away,
Hunter Prime adjusted his calculations.