The wind in the Stoneveil was a living thing.
It howled through the cliffs like it remembered the names of the dead. Every gust threw sand and snow against Kael's skin, carving memories into his bones. His cloak, too thin for mountain travel, fluttered behind him like the tattered banner of a broken house.
But he kept climbing.
Every step took him farther from the Federation's reach—and deeper into the mystery that had been branded into his blood the moment he touched the disc.
The satchel Yven gave him held nothing glamorous: a dry ration pack, a few utility coins, a second-hand spirit compass, and a burner comm crystal that had cracked somewhere along the path. Useless.
The only thing that mattered now was the pull.
And the dreams.
They came every time he closed his eyes—visions of a girl standing before a broken gate, her hair catching starlight, her hand extended like she was waiting for him.
Not calling for help.
Calling him.
Kael stumbled to a stop as a vast ridge opened before him. The wind paused, as if holding its breath.
There it was.
A sheer wall of obsidian stone, etched with ancient sigils he didn't recognize—but his bones did.
The Gate.
It stood taller than any structure he'd ever seen, embedded in the side of the mountain like a scar. A ring of weathered stone encircled it, blackened from what looked like old battles—burns, cracks, remnants of long-evaporated spells.
Kael stepped closer. The disc at his side pulsed.
He reached the gate, fingers grazing the symbols. His breath fogged the cold surface.
And then the girl's voice whispered—not from behind him.
But from inside.
"You're late, Kael."
He spun, but no one was there. Just the whispering wind.
"I… know you," he murmured. "From the dreams."
A shimmer began to form on the stone, like frost forming in reverse—glowing veins spiraling outward from where his hand touched.
Then, with a low groan, the gate opened.
Not outward. Not inward. Downward.
It split like a wound being re-opened, revealing a spiraling descent into violet light.
Kael hesitated only a second.
Then he stepped inside.
The air shifted instantly—thick, warm, humming with life. He could feel it on his skin. The disc vibrated against his ribs.
The tunnel curved, following no natural architecture. Stone gave way to glass, glass to metal, metal to something soft and glowing.
And then he saw her.
At the base of the spiral, a girl sat with her back against a suspended platform of floating runes. Pale skin, silver hair, eyes closed like she was in deep sleep—or meditation. She wore the same robe from his visions, embroidered with symbols too old to translate.
Kael approached slowly.
"I… saw you."
Her eyes opened.
The room held its breath.
"You heard me," she corrected gently. Her voice was melodic, layered with echoes. "Most can't. Not unless they've been marked."
Kael looked down at the disc.
"Marked by this?"
She nodded. "Epoch-tech is only the key. It's your soul that opened the lock."
He lowered himself beside her. "Who are you?"
She tilted her head, like she'd been waiting for him to ask for centuries.
"I was the first."
Kael blinked. "The first what?"
"The first to be chosen. The first to fall. The first to awaken inside the system the Federation buried."
She reached out and touched his chest. Kael gasped as his vision exploded—stars, planets, fire, screams, war, silence, time unraveling.
Then stillness.
"I'm not truly alive," she said softly. "I'm a memory woven into the construct. But I remember you, Kael. Not you now… but you before."
He shook his head, heart thundering. "Before what?"
She smiled, and it was a smile filled with sorrow and awe.
"Before the reset."
A deep hum shivered through the chamber.
Kael opened his mouth—but the light above flared.
A voice boomed from above.
"Unauthorized anomaly detected in Zone 7. Lockdown initiated."
Kael stood, panic rising.
"They found me."
The girl didn't move.
"You have little time. But the path is open now."
"What do I do?"
She held out her hand. In it was a shard—a glowing, jagged piece of crystal humming with chaotic energy.
"Take this. And run. Your true cultivation begins the moment you're hunted."
Kael grabbed the shard, fire ripping through his palm—but not pain.
Power.
Pure, ancient power surged through him like a second heartbeat. The disc merged with the shard, forming a glowing sigil that branded itself into his wrist.
The gate behind him rumbled.
"Go!" the girl said.
Kael turned and ran—past the spiraling tunnel, past the flickering lights, through the gate that sealed itself behind him with a final, thunderous crash.
He stood panting at the mountaintop.
The wind had changed.
And so had he.