The stale air, thick with the scent of damp concrete, instantly threw me back into the past. The lamps illuminated the corridor, and I immediately moved toward the next locked door. A quiet hum filled the space—hidden mechanisms, unknown to me, activated by the electrical circuits, whirring to life as they began purifying the air. For the first time, I was doing this all on my own, repeating memorized steps from memory:
Activate the door mechanism.
Press the sequence three-five-six-six on the raised square buttons.
Wait for the shrill beep.
Turn the wheel on the door.
It reluctantly yielded when Kaiden pulled the massive slab open. A rush of air surged out, wrapping us in an icy embrace. I knew no one could be inside, but the little girl within me still hoped to see Father there again.
The dim lamps provided barely enough light, leaving shadows clinging stubbornly to every corner of the low-ceilinged chamber. We moved cautiously—almost timidly—along one wall: Kaiden out of unfamiliarity, me out of fear of disturbing the ghosts of the past. This place held more than just my memories. It held what existed long before us, before Visglover, before the Commonwealth, before the world as we knew it.
"What is this place?" Kaiden whispered, barely breathing.
His wide eyes darted from one unfamiliar object to another, trying to make sense of the strange devices surrounding us. He tugged at the rubber-coated cables snaking along the walls.
"Is this electricity?" he asked, testing the current under his fingertips.
I nodded.
"How?"
"Right now, the system is running on my power," I explained. "But before, it was connected to an external energy source. Turbines, I think, or something like that."
I dropped my backpack on the floor and moved forward with more confidence. The ceiling lamps flickered unevenly, as if struggling to hold onto the scraps of energy. Half of them had already burned out for good.
"The generator's still working," Kaiden murmured, pressing his palm to the wall. His fingers traced the thick rubber wiring. "Barely."
I nodded, recalling Father's lessons.
"My power won't last long, so we need to hurry. Dad said these bunkers were built to last centuries. But even the Precursors couldn't account for everything." I pointed at the faint protective sigils etched into the walls. "Seems like these are the only reason this place hasn't completely crumbled."
I stepped closer to the long gray metal table bolted to the floor. On its surface, covered in a thick layer of dust, lay flat boxes with dulled glass screens. One of them still displayed faint symbols—rows of numbers and commands flickering weakly.
"Computing machines?" Kaiden asked quietly. "The professor showed me schematics of something like this. They store information... without power stones, without paper."
He pressed one of the raised buttons on the surface. Nothing happened.
"Do you think there's anything left in them?"
"If there is, we wouldn't be able to read it," I sighed, running my finger through the dust on the screen. "Father said you needed special... 'programs' for that."
Nearby stood a small room housing a massive device resembling a printing press, but with dozens of switches and a tangle of sticky, decaying cables.
"Radio," Kaiden recognized it. "For communicating with other bunkers, probably."
He tried turning one of the knobs. Something clicked inside, but the silence remained unbroken.
"The antennas on the surface must have rotted away long ago," he muttered.
"We don't need communications," I said, lingering only briefly by the machine. "We're looking for something our key might fit."
While Kaiden remained spellbound by the remains of machines slowly decaying in this frozen fragment of the past, I methodically examined the walls and floor for any hidden compartments.
The living quarters contained narrow bunks that could have accommodated about ten people. Metal shelves held stockpiles of food in tin cans, most likely spoiled long ago. I shifted them aside to inspect the walls behind, finding a box with a faded red cross - a medical kit with ruined medications. From what I understood, people in the past used chemical compounds to create substances that could fight bacteria and viruses, or alter bodily functions. Now we had no need for such crude methods when we could directly manipulate the body with power stones.
Having finished with the living area, I moved on to the generator room. It was the heart of the bunker. Without this massive machine occupying an entire chamber, the bunker would be nothing more than a sealed tomb. It had once powered the air filtration, water purification, heating systems, and kept all the equipment running.
"It's a turbine," Kaiden observed as he circled the massive structure. "Ran on steam or some kind of fuel. Now..."
"Now it's clinging to life, running on the scraps of my power," I finished.
"Remarkable that it still functions at all."
My gaze caught on one of the metal panels behind the generator because aits shade was slightly different, as if it had been removed and replaced many times, or perhaps made from entirely different material. I moved closer, running my fingers along the cold surface.
"Kaiden, look at this."
He tore his attention from the turbine and joined me. I pointed to the nearly imperceptible scratches around the panel's edges. His fingers found a subtle indentation along its border.
"There's something here."
We began carefully prying at the panel. The metal groaned but refused to yield. Kaiden drew his knife, wedged the blade into the seam, and levered it forward. I squinted, bracing for the panel to give way, and it did, flying free with a metallic shriek before clattering to the floor with enough noise to wake the entire forest beyond these hills.
Behind it sat a compact metal safe, embedded directly into the wall. It looked utterly foreign to the bunker's austere design—the intricate cast patterns on its door and carved edges of its handle unmistakably the work of city craftsmen.
"Father..." I whispered, recognizing his handiwork in the safe's intricate design. "His work..."
The safe was small, barely larger than a book, with a circular indentation at its center. I withdrew the cryptex we'd found in the vault. Its carved end slid into the hole with perfect precision.
"So that's what it was for," Kaiden murmured as I fitted the cryptex into place.
I turned it clockwise. A soft click echoed through the generator room, and the safe's door released with a sigh. My heart pounded like a war drum as I reached inside. Beneath oiled canvas wrapping lay an unassuming collection: two leather-bound journals, a folder of loose papers, a slender black case with one glass face, several newspaper clippings, and a spool of rigid dark tape in a round container.
I stared at the "treasure" in confusion, uncertain what to make of it—why had such secrecy been necessary? Could these mundane items truly be so valuable or dangerous? Seeking reassurance, I glanced at Kaiden, who gave an encouraging nod.
With trembling hands, I opened the first journal. The pages were filled with handwritten entries in an unfamiliar script. The earliest notes had faded nearly to invisibility—I had to squint and lean close to decipher the words. Though the language was archaic, it was still comprehensible. The first few pages appeared to have been torn out.
"...ruptures continue expanding. After deploying weapons of mass destruction, the territories became uninhabitable..."
A large oil blot obscured the next passage.
"...cannot utilize fossil resources anymore. Contaminated. Won't combust. Requires enrichment technologies we no longer possess—after the cataclysms, they may never return. The creatures have altered physics itself. What once burned now refuses ignition, what floated now sinks. Everything behaves differently near them or in places they've touched..."
More smeared text. I skimmed several subsequent pages—these appeared to be firsthand accounts from some apocalyptic period.
"Have you ever heard of these 'cataclysms' or 'ruptures'?"
Kaiden shook his head, equally disturbed.
"Why don't we know about this? Look at these dates... It's barely a century old..."
A vague, itching unease crawled through me as I read, like trying to recall a word that dances just beyond memory's reach. Kaiden took the first journal while I examined the second book—this one detailing the terms of some pact.
The writing here differed dramatically from the panicked scrawl of the first journal. Each line stood unwavering, every flourish executed with calligraphic precision:
"Oliver Sanders. Year 2067. April.
Twenty-three years since the entities came. They left humanity mere scraps in exchange for life force. Symbiosis? Parasitism?*
I've become one of those sacrificed to this abomination. Yet there's an unexpected benefit—the creature adapts and learns. It grants me the ability to manipulate reality as it does. Yesterday I ignited flame through will alone. I can feel energy currents in my body and see them in others. As an experiment, I redirected energy to heal a cut. Crude, but effective—a valuable side effect given our medical shortages.
Not all who bonded with entities survived. Some were drained to husks within days. I suppose I'm among the fortunate..."
The words swam before my eyes, refusing to coalesce into coherent understanding. Was this journal documenting real events? Or some elaborate fiction? A symbiosis—with what? With whom? Were they talking about Bearers? Was our power not a natural phenomenon after all? Questions multiplied like swarming insects in my mind.
The lights flickered. Kaiden's hand closed around my wrist.
"You alright? That electrical circle seems to have drained you more than we thought."
I shook my head and quickly flipped through subsequent pages. From the fragmented phrases I managed to catch, Oliver's entries detailed his growing "collaboration" with whatever was feeding on his life force. Eventually, they'd apparently established communication—of a sort. The pages showed crude symbols unlike any sigils I knew, yet their shapes triggered that same primal unease, some animal part of my brain recoiling in visceral recognition.
Kaidens' expression darkened beyond his usual brooding—a look I'd never seen before.
"We need to leave. Now."
The light flickered and dimmed again. I wrapped our findings back in the oiled cloth, carefully packed them into the backpack, and got to my feet. Kaiden steadied me when I swayed as darkness clouded my vision for a moment.
"Let's go!"
Once we passed through the door, Kaiden ordered in a tone that brooked no argument for me to sever the connection with the electrical circle. We scrambled up the stairs and finally breathed in fresh air. It was sweet and warm.