The moment Ren's consciousness returned to his body, he stumbled back like he'd been sucker punched by the universe. A cold sweat clung to his skin, and his lungs gasped like he'd nearly drowned in fire. He was still inside the collapsed observatory, still alive—but something had changed.
His chest burned, but not with pain. It throbbed with something ancient. Something alive.
Naelir.
The name echoed like a drumbeat in his soul, branding itself into him. The god of flame, once imprisoned, now flickering within him—bound to his soulcore.
"You're awake," Valka said, crouched beside him, eyes scanning his face like she wasn't sure who she'd find.
Ren blinked the blur from his vision. "I… did I—"
"You rewrote a Reclaimer," she said, her voice both stunned and wary. "And then you passed out and caught fire. Literal fire. We couldn't touch you for ten minutes."
Ren sat up slowly. The world felt off. Every color too bright, every sound too sharp. When he exhaled, mist like smoke curled from his lips. His breath steamed even in the stale, cold air.
"Naelir," he whispered. "He's in me now."
Valka stiffened. "Then it wasn't a dream."
"No." Ren shook his head. "He's real. Trapped. But awake."
Something clattered in the distance. Tameris appeared from the rubble, arms full of salvaged relics—worn tablets, scorched datapads, a twisted helmet half-covered in script none of them could read.
"Good," she said briskly. "You didn't die."
"Nice to see you too," Ren muttered.
She dropped the relics with a clank. "I found something in the wreckage. A fragment of the Soulburn Protocol. And… a recording."
The mention froze the air in Ren's lungs. "A recording of what?"
Tameris clicked on the scorched tablet. A grainy holo projected upward—a flickering image of a woman in a crimson uniform. Her voice buzzed through static.
"—Protocol instability reaching 87%. Subject ECHO-01 is no longer responsive. Containment breach imminent. If this reaches anyone, the Verge Project was never meant to—"
The image cracked apart. Gone.
Ren's heart thudded. Echo-01. Verge Project. That voice—he didn't know it, but the name Echo screamed in his blood like a fire alarm. Something about it belonged to him.
"What the hell was that?" Valka asked.
"I think that was me," Ren whispered.
Before they could press further, the ground trembled—subtly at first, like something far below had stirred. A pulse rippled outward. Tameris grabbed her rifle. "We need to move. Now."
But Ren didn't move. His eyes glazed, hands trembling.
Because in his mind, a memory cracked open. Not a dream—a stored experience. Something sealed in him.
A lab. Blinding lights. People in white coats arguing. And him—strapped to a table. Screaming.
A needle. Black fluid. A name forced into his head.
ECHO-01: REN CALDER.
He clutched his skull, staggering. "It's not just soulburn," he rasped. "It's a whole damn experiment."
Valka caught him. "Ren—"
But before he could explain more, a flash of energy crackled across the ruins—and a voice, distorted and furious, tore through the air like a war cry.
"WHERE IS HE?"
A figure surged from the rubble. Armor scorched. Flesh laced with glowing veins. Eyes like molten metal. A Reclaimer—but different. Unstable. Twisted.
Another Soulburned.
"Containment breach confirmed," it snarled. "Echo-01 must be terminated."
Tameris fired first. The bolt slammed into the figure's shoulder—it didn't even flinch. Ren stepped forward, hands trembling, flame leaking from his fingers like blood.
Valka cursed. "You're not ready!"
"I don't care."
The flames flared brighter. Naelir's voice stirred within him—not in words, but in raw emotion. Wrath. Hunger. Protection.
Ren's voice was low, guttural. "You want Echo-01? Come take him."