The silence in the Forge was a physical presence. It was heavy, cold, and smelled of rust and old ozone, a stark contrast to the sterile, beeping world of the infirmary. Kael stood in the center of the vast, scarred floor, feeling small and utterly out of place. The jumpsuit he wore felt paper-thin, a useless membrane against the oppressive atmosphere of this place. This was a room built for breaking things. He had a sinking feeling he was the next thing on the list.
Jax circled him slowly, his heavy boots echoing in the cavernous space. He moved with a coiled, predatory grace that Kael hadn't noticed when he was sitting by the bedside. The man was a weapon, in or out of his armor.
"You feel it, don't you?" Jax's voice was low, cutting through the silence. "The thing inside you. The parasite."
Kael nodded, his throat too dry to speak. He did feel it. The Hound's Echo wasn't just a thrum in his bones anymore. It was a constant, low-grade hum of alien consciousness nested behind his own. It was a second set of senses layered over his, a faint scent of old metal and Jax's own powerful Aethel signature tickling a part of his brain he never knew he had. It was a beast, sleeping fitfully in the cage of his soul.
"Good," Jax said, stopping in front of him. "Rule one of a Frame User's life: never lie to yourself about what you are. You're not just a man anymore. You're a container. And right now, that container is cracked, leaking, and about to shatter."
He gestured to the empty space around them. "This is where we fix that. Your first lesson isn't about fighting. It's not about spears or shields or how to kill a Chimera. All of that is useless if the beast inside you is the one holding the leash. Your first lesson is about control. About making the cage stronger."
"How?" Kael finally managed, the word a croak.
"You're going to open the door," Jax said, his expression grim. "Just a crack. You're going to reach inside, touch the Echo's power, and try to draw it out. I want you to feel its strength, its speed. Just a taste."
The idea sent a jolt of pure ice through Kael's veins. He remembered the blinding pain of the absorption, the torrent of feral memories that had nearly erased him. To willingly touch that again… it felt like suicide.
"I… I don't know if I can," he stammered.
"You can," Jax's voice was hard, unyielding. "Or you can die. That's the only choice you have left. Now, close your eyes. Shut out the world. Find the parasite. And tap the glass."
Kael's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. But he did as he was told. He closed his eyes, the darkness behind his lids a welcome relief from Jax's intense gaze. He took a breath, then another, trying to find the meditative calm he used to have when working on a complex piece of machinery.
But there was no calm. There was only the beast.
He focused inward, past the beat of his own heart, and found it. The jagged, angry shard of the Hound's Echo, embedded in the lattice of his Aethel Frame. It pulsed with a cold, blue light, radiating a palpable aura of hunger and predatory rage. He could feel its instincts bleeding into his own—the urge to scan the room for threats, to tense his muscles for a sudden lunge.
He reached out with his will, with the fragile tendrils of his own energy, and gently, tentatively, he touched it.
The effect was instantaneous.
It wasn't a flood of pain this time. It was a surge of intoxicating power. The Hound's consciousness, sensing a moment of weakness, of invitation, roared to life. It didn't just offer him a taste; it force-fed him.
A wave of raw, feral aggression consumed him. His own thoughts, his own fears, his very identity as Kael, were washed away in a tide of pure, predatory instinct. The world exploded behind his eyelids, not in light, but in a symphony of sensory data. He could smell the fear-sweat on his own skin, could feel the subtle air currents in the vast room, could hear the frantic thumping of his own heart as if it were a war drum.
He let out a sound that wasn't a word, but a low, guttural snarl.
His eyes snapped open, and they weren't his own. They were the eyes of a hunter, scanning for weakness, for prey. He saw Jax, not as a man, but as a rival alpha, a threat to be challenged and dominated.
"There it is," Jax's voice was a distant rumble, a sound from another world.
Kael's body moved without his permission. His back hunched, his shoulders broadening. He felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his hands and looked down to see his fingernails thickening, elongating, their tips hardening into jagged, crystalline claws. The transformation was agonizing, his human biology screaming in protest as the Echo's blueprint tried to overwrite it. He snarled again, a sound of rage and pain, and dropped into a low crouch, ready to spring.
He was going to attack. He was going to tear the threat in front of him to pieces.
He never got the chance.
Jax moved with a speed that seemed impossible for a man his size. One moment he was ten feet away; the next, he was there. He didn't throw a punch. He didn't use a weapon. He simply stepped into Kael's space and jabbed two fingers into the side of his neck.
A jolt of pure, neutralizing energy shot through Kael's body. It was like a master switch being thrown. The connection to the Echo was violently severed. The feral rage, the heightened senses, the intoxicating power—it all vanished in an instant, leaving behind a hollow, nauseating void.
The strength fled his limbs, and he collapsed onto the cold concrete, gasping for air. The crystalline claws on his hands receded, the pain of their retreat as sharp as their growth. He was himself again, but a lesser version, a hollowed-out shell trembling on the floor.
He looked up at Jax, who stood over him, his face impassive.
"That," Jax said, his voice cold and clinical, "is what losing control looks like. The beast rattles the bars, you open the cage, and it eats you alive. You lasted five seconds. Pathetic."
Shame, hot and sharp, washed over Kael, a welcome replacement for the cold terror. He had failed. Utterly.
"Get up," Jax commanded.
Kael pushed himself up, his limbs shaking with exhaustion and adrenaline.
"You think this is a gift?" Jax's voice was low, intense. "You think this power is yours to command? It's not. It's a rabid dog, and you're holding it by a thread. Every time you use it, you risk becoming it. That's the price. Every. Single. Time."
He pointed a finger at Kael's chest. "Your job isn't to be stronger than the beast. It's to be the better cage. Stronger bars. A thicker lock. You will learn to feel it stir, and you will learn to quiet it. You will learn to borrow its strength without surrendering your will. You will do this again, and again, and again, until you can touch that fire without getting burned."
He stepped back, resuming his circling. "Or you'll die. Here. On this floor. And I'll sweep up the ashes."
Kael stood there, trembling, his body aching, his mind a whirlwind of fear and failure. He looked at his hands, now blessedly human again. He felt the Echo, now sullen and quiet in its cage, but still there. Still hungry.
This was his new life. An endless battle fought not against the monsters outside the walls, but against the one he now carried inside his own soul.
"Again," Jax commanded, his voice echoing in the vast, cold room. "Close your eyes."