Eastern Fringe, Verdant Expanse
The old cart groaned with every bump in the road.
It was a far cry from the elegant rail channels of the Spire, but it rolled. The trio had traded one of Juno's signal relays for the cart and a mule that answered only to the name "Boil."
The hills rose around them like ancient greenbacks, scattered with drifting clouds. It should've been peaceful.
But none of them were at ease.
"You're sure the coordinate point is here?" Luma asked, eyes scanning the horizon.
Juno nodded. "Right here. The harmonic signal ends at these coordinates. But there's no structure. No outpost. Just… farmland."
Ion frowned, pulling the crystalline shard from his pocket. "The Scribes wouldn't anchor a signal to a pasture."
"Unless the pasture's hiding something," Juno said. "Or someone."
They crested a small hill — and stopped.
In the valley below, nestled between two rock outcroppings, was a house. Or what had once been one. The roof sagged in the middle. Wind stirred tattered cloth from what used to be window coverings. But the walls were still standing.
And from the chimney, faint white smoke.
Someone was home.
They approached carefully, hands on tools, eyes alert. As they neared, the door creaked open — and a figure stepped out.
A woman, cloaked in piecemeal armor stitched from leather, copper, and what looked like shredded academic robes. Her right eye was covered with a cracked lens that glowed faintly. A long rifle hung loosely over her back.
"Well," she said, voice dry. "Took you long enough."
Luma blinked. "Excuse me?"
The woman grinned. "Don't worry, child. I've been dead for years. You're just late to the part where I'm not."
Ion stepped forward slowly. "What's your name?"
She looked him over, then Luma, then Juno — and finally smiled. A sad smile, the kind made of scars.
"They used to call me Archivist Vel."
Juno nearly dropped her lantern.
"Vel is dead," she whispered.
Vel raised a brow. "And yet here I stand."
Inside the house was a maze of makeshift shelves, metal coils, broken tech, and stitched-together notes written in dozens of hands. It smelled of solder and lavender.
"After the purge," Vel said, pouring tea into mismatched cups, "they thought they'd destroyed all the Compass cores. That was the point. Kill the old navigation systems, erase access to the Cradle Sites. Make the Spire the only map."
She sipped. "But they missed one."
From her side satchel, she pulled out a small object: octagonal, flat, and glowing faintly from its center.
"The Shattered Compass," she said. "One of the last. Broken, yes. But not useless."
Luma leaned forward. "What does it do?"
Vel grinned. "Tells you where truth is."
Ion looked skeptical. "That's… metaphorical, I assume?"
"No. Quite literal. This Compass doesn't point north. It points to the strongest gravitational convergence in range. And when you've got signal relays and void structures interfering with local gravity… well. Let's just say it points you to problems."
Juno was already taking it apart with her eyes. "Can I touch it?"
"No," Vel said, quickly sliding it away. "You can borrow it. Briefly."
Luma leaned back. "You survived the Spire purge. Why help us now?"
Vel's smile faded. "Because I read your name on the Last Ledger. Yours, Ion's, even Juno's. Someone's tracking you — closely. Which means you're either a threat… or a solution."
Ion rubbed his forehead. "And we don't know which yet."
Vel nodded. "Exactly. But if you've got the Vault Signal, then you're part of the thread I followed for decades. You're not just fighting the Entropy Engine. You're fighting the forgetting of truth."
Luma's voice was quiet. "What does the Compass say now?"
Vel set it on the table. The core spun once — then snapped to a direction.
Straight east.
"East?" Juno asked. "That's… wilderness. Marshlands."
Vel's smile returned. "And buried in those marshes is something called the Eclipser Node. Another relic the Spire doesn't want you to find."
Luma exchanged a glance with Ion and Juno.
They were being pulled again — but not blindly. This time, they had a bearing.
That night, they camped outside Vel's home under a starlit sky.
The Compass glowed beside them like a sleeping ember. Juno traced signal arcs in the dirt. Ion polished the shard, still rattled by the Vault's recognition. And Luma… stared eastward.
Vel joined her quietly.
"You're young," the archivist said. "But not soft."
Luma didn't look away from the stars. "I don't feel brave."
"Good," Vel said. "Bravery isn't the point. Carrying something important despite fear is."
Luma let that sit.
"Why do you keep helping?" she asked.
Vel smiled faintly. "Because when the world forgets itself, it needs people to remind it. People like you."