The wind over the canyon was sharp and dry, laced with the scent of old stone and faint traces of iron. It howled through jagged cliffs and coiled around the ancient ruins scattered across the mesa like bones from a long-dead colossus.
Jack stood at the edge of the overlook, gazing down into the labyrinth of red rock and forgotten history.
The map Verixa had deciphered led here—to the Cradle of Stars, once a temple and observatory of the Old Elthanic Empire, now a forbidden zone under Conclave decree.
Behind him, Lyra tightened the straps on her satchel, her eyes sweeping the horizon with a soldier's instinctive caution.
Verixa, no longer hiding behind a false voice or borrowed identity, knelt by a pile of stone markers. Her silver hair glimmered in the sun, and the violet markings along her jaw caught the light as she traced the glyphs carved into the stone.
"The markers are real," she murmured.
"This place was indeed built atop a confluence point—where all six celestial harmonics intersect. It's the only known one on this continent."
Jack nodded slowly. "And that makes it the ideal place to finalize the next phase of the matrix."
"Or the perfect place for the Conclave to destroy us," Lyra muttered.
"They're not stupid. If they've caught wind of our movements, they'll be here, or close."
"We won't have another chance like this," Jack said.
"The resonance here is perfect. If we can anchor the matrix node to the Cradle's harmonic structure, we won't just be hiding from the Conclave—we'll be building something they can't erase."
Verixa stood and turned to face them, brushing dust from her knees. "Then we'll need to descend before nightfall. The inner sanctum opens only under specific lunar alignment. According to these glyphs, the window begins just past twilight."
They moved quickly, descending narrow goat trails that spiraled into the canyon's heart.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the rocks in blood and fire, Jack could feel the resonance intensifying—like a vibration in the bones, subtle and persistent.
The pendant against his chest pulsed softly, answering the call.
The Cradle itself was a wonder of lost civilization. Towering obelisks of obsidian and crystal arched upward like ribs.
A great dome of stone lay cracked open in the center, revealing a spiral staircase carved directly into the rock. Vines, long dead, clung to its lip like desperate fingers.
They lit torches as they descended into the earth. The air grew cooler, tinged with a mineral sharpness that reminded Jack of deep caves back on Earth.
Symbols lined the walls, etched in patterns that pulsed with latent energy. Verixa ran her fingers along them, whispering translations.
"These aren't just decorative," she said.
"They're tuning the harmonic resonance. Guiding it, focusing it. Jaro must have studied this place—or something like it—before writing his final theorems."
At the base of the spiral, they entered a vast chamber. In the center, a dais of interlocking crystal plates stood beneath a skylight of perfectly polished quartz.
Around the edges of the room, six archways stood, each aligned to a different celestial direction.
"This is it," Jack said, stepping onto the dais.
The pendant flared to life, casting light across the walls in shifting patterns. Lines of force became visible—threads of energy crisscrossing the chamber like spider silk.
Verixa joined him, holding out her hand. Her pendant responded in kind, harmonizing with his. Lyra, ever the pragmatist, took up position at the stairs, her eyes sharp for any sign of pursuit.
"I'll begin the integration," Jack said.
"Once it's done, the matrix's harmonics will spread through the ley system like a neural impulse. We'll be able to sense compatible nodes across the continent."
Verixa's smile was brief but radiant. "And maybe… finally… see the dawn of a system that heals instead of hoards."
He focused. The chamber vibrated with potential, with memory. Jack opened his mind, drawing on both his Earth-born logic and Tarkhan's intuitive cultivation sense.
He visualized the harmonics as algorithms, layering variables atop waves of energy. The matrix responded, blooming within the space like a living web.
Verixa added her resonance, her knowledge of lunar energy infusing the construct with stability. The nodes locked into place, synchronized, alive. The entire room pulsed with a rhythm older than language.
And then the backlash hit.
A surge of opposing force slammed into the matrix, cracking the quartz skylight and sending shockwaves through the dais. Jack staggered, blood trickling from his nose. Verixa screamed, clutching her head.
"They found us!" Lyra shouted from the stairwell, where the sounds of battle echoed—shouts, steel, spells.
Jack blinked through the pain, reaching out to stabilize the matrix. "They're trying to invert the harmonics—collapse the node!"
Verixa dropped to one knee, eyes burning. "I can hold it, but not for long. You have to find the anchor glyph and stabilize the flow!"
He turned, scanning the chamber with desperate clarity. The glyph—an ancient sigil of balance and convergence—had to be present. His gaze locked on the archway to the northeast, where faint lunar glyphs shimmered.
"I see it!" he shouted.
"Go!" Lyra snapped, loosing an arrow into the stairwell. A scream followed, then the unmistakable hum of an imperial suppression talisman igniting.
Jack sprinted to the glyph. He pressed the pendant against the stone, willing the energies to align. The resistance was immense, like trying to shift the tide with his bare hands.
But he drew on everything—his Earth-born logic, his software training, his bond with the matrix, and the raw desperation of survival.
The glyph flared, and the backlash ceased. The matrix solidified, its harmonic pattern stabilizing like a melody snapping into key.
Verixa gasped in relief. "You did it. The node is stable."
But Lyra didn't answer.
Jack turned to see her slumped against the wall, blood pouring from a wound in her side. A scorch mark marred her armor, and two imperial guards lay dead at her feet.
"Lyra!" he ran to her, dropping to his knees.
She smiled faintly. "Still breathing. Just… need time."
Verixa joined them, placing a hand on Lyra's wound. Energy flowed from her fingers, knitting skin and sealing veins. "It's not mortal. But she'll need rest."
Footsteps echoed from above—more coming.
Jack helped Verixa lift Lyra. "We need to leave. Now."
"The matrix can sustain itself for a time," Verixa said. "But the Conclave knows we're here now. They'll analyze the harmonics and send their best next time."
They fled the Cradle through a secondary passage—a tunnel used by priests long forgotten. The exit opened halfway up the canyon wall, disguised by illusion spells Verixa dispelled with a whispered word.
By the time the moon rose, they were miles away, hidden in a ravine where Verixa had erected a warding barrier. Lyra lay beneath a blanket, breathing steady but shallow.
Jack sat beside her, the pendant cool now, its pulse slow and steady.
"We've done it," Verixa said, sitting across the fire. "A second node. The matrix is growing."
"But they're on to us now," Jack replied.
She nodded. "Yes. And they'll hunt us harder. But with every node, we become harder to erase."
He met her eyes. "And what about you? You're not just helping for research."
She hesitated, then said, "My people—the elven blood in me—is tied to this land in ways even I don't fully understand."
"When the Conclave suppresses harmonic flow, it doesn't just harm humans. It severs us all from the balance. I… I've felt that pain all my life."
Jack stared into the fire. "Then we keep going. We find the next node. The next ally."
Verixa offered a tired smile. "And hope we survive long enough to see the dawn."
Outside the ravine, the desert wind whispered through the stones, and above them, the twin moons crossed paths—casting overlapping shadows across the land, like eyes watching from the heavens.
They had lit the second flame.
Now the fire would spread.