Rourke could feel it before anyone said a word.
The Heart inside his chest no longer beat in a clean rhythm.
It stuttered—
hesitated—
then surged violently, sending sharp pulses of pressure through his ribs. Every fluctuation sent tremors through his crown, faint cracks shimmering along its edge like hairline fractures in glass.
Seren noticed immediately.
"Rourke…
your eyes."
He opened them fully.
The world flickered.
Gravity Sight refused to stabilize—threads overlapping, slipping out of alignment, breaking and reforming too quickly to track.
The Memory Core dimmed.
"Resonance instability confirmed."
Rourke swallowed.
"That sounds… terminal."
"Not yet," the relic replied.
"But the Heart is reacting to Null exposure."
Seren's voice tightened.
"Reacting how?"
The relic did not soften its answer.
"It is attempting synchronization."
What Synchronization Means
The Memory Core projected a split image.
On one side:
Rourke's Heart—bright, unstable, flickering between silver and black.
On the other:
The Obsidian Engine's core—dark, pulsing steadily, patient.
The two images began drifting toward each other.
Seren shook her head.
"No.
No, no—separate them!"
"Synchronization is not physical proximity,"
the relic explained.
"It is harmonic alignment."
Rourke felt cold spread through him.
"So every time I use Null Gravity…"
"…The Heart listens," the relic finished.
"And the Engine responds."
Seren stared at Rourke.
"It's calling to you."
Rourke closed his eyes.
"And I can hear it."
The Cost Revealed
The guide hovered closer, its glow weak.
"Solarii Heartbearers who reached this stage
did not die immediately."
Seren snapped,
"That's not reassuring."
The guide continued softly:
"They became… divided."
Rourke frowned.
"Divided how?"
"The Heart seeks order.
The Collapse seeks finality."
The Memory Core pulsed.
"When synchronization progresses unchecked,
the bearer loses the ability to choose."
Seren's breath hitched.
"So he wouldn't turn evil.
He'd just… stop deciding."
Rourke opened his eyes slowly.
"A living inevitability."
The phrase settled heavily.
The Heart's Cracks
Rourke doubled over suddenly, gasping as pain flared through his chest.
Seren caught him.
"Hey—hey—talk to me!"
He forced out a breath.
"It's pulling.
Not physically—
conceptually."
The Memory Core glowed faintly.
"Your Heart is fracturing under incompatible directives."
Seren whispered,
"Say that again, but slower."
The relic replied:
"You are trying to master gravity removal
while remaining human.
The Heart was not designed for both."
Rourke laughed weakly.
"Of course it wasn't."
Seren pressed her forehead against his.
"Then we redesign the rules."
A Dangerous Suggestion
The Memory Core hesitated.
Then spoke.
"There is a theoretical solution."
Rourke straightened despite the pain.
"Then say it."
The relic's glow dimmed.
"You must limit yourself."
Seren blinked.
"…What?"
"Deliberate restriction of power output
can stabilize the Heart temporarily."
Rourke frowned.
"You want me to weaken myself."
"Yes."
Seren protested,
"That'll get him killed!"
The relic countered calmly:
"Unrestricted output will get him erased."
Silence followed.
Rourke exhaled slowly.
"So I stop pushing.
Stop escalating."
"You stop chasing dominance,"
the relic clarified.
"And focus on precision."
Seren studied Rourke's face.
"That's actually…
very you."
The Human Choice
Rourke clenched his fists, then deliberately relaxed them.
Power pulled back.
The crown dimmed slightly—
the fractures easing.
Pain receded a fraction.
He breathed.
"I don't need to outmatch Prime," he said quietly.
"I need to outthink him."
The Memory Core pulsed.
"Correct."
Seren smiled faintly.
"Look at that.
You're learning restraint."
He snorted.
"Don't get used to it."
The Countdown Update
The fractured sky pulsed ominously.
The Memory Core's tone grew heavy.
"Synchronization acceleration detected."
Seren stiffened.
"How much time now?"
The relic answered:
"Six days."
Rourke closed his eyes briefly.
Every attempt was costing them.
Prime wasn't wrong.
The Hidden Clue
As Rourke steadied his breathing, Gravity Sight flickered—
Then locked onto something new.
A faint gravitational anomaly—
not pulling,
not pushing—
Ignoring.
Rourke's eyes snapped open.
"There."
Seren followed his gaze.
"I don't see anything."
The Memory Core rotated.
"Describe the anomaly."
Rourke focused.
"It's… not responding to gravity at all.
Not bending.
Not resisting.
It's like—
it's outside the rules."
The relic's glow sharpened.
"…That should not exist."
Seren's heart began to race.
"Unless Prime was wrong."
Rourke straightened, pain forgotten.
"This could be our second anchor."
The Memory Core pulsed, unsettled.
"If that anomaly is what you believe it is…
then it is far more dangerous than Null Gravity."
Seren swallowed.
"Dangerous how?"
The relic answered quietly:
"It may be alive."
The realm trembled faintly.
And the anomaly pulsed once—
as if it had heard them.