The lamps in the dorm alcove dimmed one by one, their blue light fading into a faint amber glow. The Holdfast slept uneasily — half its tunnels still sealed, the air thick with the metallic scent of burnt stone and ozone.
Lucas lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Thin blue lines of veinlight traced through the rock above like veins in translucent skin. He'd started to recognize the rhythm — the steady, slow pulse of the mountain's lifeblood.
Across the narrow aisle, Jeff snored softly, one arm thrown over his chest like a man halfway between rest and vigilance.
Lucas exhaled, sitting up. Sleep wasn't happening tonight. His mind kept circling the same questions: Why him? Why here? And why did the mountain talk like it knew his name?
He glanced at Jeff's bunk. The old man stirred — as if sensing the weight of the thoughts aimed at him.
"You're staring," Jeff said, voice muffled but awake.
Lucas blinked. "How'd you—"
"Years of practice," Jeff muttered, turning over. "You think loud."
"Sorry," Lucas said, rubbing his face. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't."
Silence stretched between them, filled by the low hum of the walls. Then Lucas finally asked the question that had been clawing at him since the first day they met.
"You knew about the System before I even mentioned it."
Jeff didn't answer right away. He shifted, the bunk creaking beneath him. "Did I?"
"Yeah," Lucas said. "When we first talked — back in the cells — you didn't act surprised when I said I could see skill pop-ups. Most people look at me like I've lost it. You just… shrugged."
Jeff was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and measured. "The System's been around longer than anyone remembers. Most people just stop noticing it."
Lucas frowned. "How do you 'stop noticing' floating windows?"
Jeff chuckled. "You learn to tune out what doesn't help you survive. The world hums a thousand songs, kid. You pick the one that keeps you alive and ignore the rest."
Lucas tilted his head. "You make it sound like it's optional."
"For most people, it is." Jeff's voice was calm, almost wistful. "The System doesn't talk to everyone. Not anymore."
"Not anymore?" Lucas repeated.
Jeff nodded slowly, the light catching the edge of his tired eyes. "There was a time when everyone could hear it — the whispers, the guidance, the… whatever it is. Some called it the System. Others called it the Flow, or the Record, or the Old Voice. Over time, it stopped speaking clearly. Maybe we stopped listening. Maybe both."
Lucas sat forward, elbows on his knees. "So you've heard it. The voice."
Jeff smiled faintly. "You ever think maybe it's the other way around?"
Lucas blinked. "What do you mean?"
Jeff looked up at the ceiling veins. "You think you're hearing it. But what if it's hearing you?"
The silence that followed made Lucas's skin prickle. "That's… not comforting."
"Wasn't meant to be."
Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, dull piece of stone — the kind that looked ordinary until you saw the faint shimmer running beneath its surface. A vein fragment.
He turned it in his hand absently. "You know what this is?"
Lucas nodded. "Vein crystal. I've seen plenty by now."
Jeff smiled without humor. "That's what the miners call it. But the old stories say these are memories. That the mountain keeps them like a ledger — every life, every choice, every mistake written in light."
Lucas frowned. "That sounds like superstition."
"Maybe it is," Jeff said, pocketing the stone. "Or maybe it's proof that the world remembers us better than we remember it."
Lucas let out a slow breath. "You talk like you've lived here your whole life."
Jeff smirked. "Maybe I have. Maybe I haven't. Hard to keep track when the walls hum lullabies at night."
Lucas shook his head, half-laughing despite himself. "You're infuriating."
"I get that a lot."
Lucas eventually gave up on sleep altogether. He stood, stretched, and slipped quietly out into the corridor. The air outside was cooler, carrying the faint tang of ore dust and the dull clang of distant machinery.
He wandered until he reached the main shaft — a vast, hollow space that spiraled downward like the throat of a canyon. Dozens of lamps glowed along the railings. Miners huddled around them in small groups, murmuring in low voices.
He caught a few fragments of their conversation as he passed.
"…said the veins started talking again."
"…just echoes, nothing more."
"…no, I swear. The Whisperers heard it clear as day."
Lucas slowed. "Whisperers?"
A woman polishing a coil of wire looked up at him. Her eyes were rimmed with fatigue, but there was something like reverence in her voice. "You must be new. The Whisperers are the ones who claim to hear the veins speak. Engineers, old miners, the rare ones who've been too close for too long. Most of them go mad, but some… they say some hear the truth."
"The truth about what?"
She shrugged. "The source. The Heart. Whatever runs beneath all this."
Lucas's throat tightened. "You've seen them?"
"Once," she said softly. "A man with glowing eyes walked straight into the deep tunnels and never came back. Said the veins called his name."
Lucas didn't answer. The hum in the walls seemed louder now, echoing faintly behind his ribs. He forced a smile, thanked the woman, and made his way back to the dorm.
Jeff was still awake when he returned, half-sitting up in his bunk and carving something small into a scrap of metal.
"Couldn't sleep?" Jeff asked without looking up.
"Didn't try," Lucas said, sitting across from him. "What are you making?"
"Focus trinket," Jeff said. "Keeps the hum from getting too loud."
Lucas eyed the half-finished charm. "You mean… it keeps you from hearing the veins?"
Jeff's knife paused. "Something like that."
"Then why not make me one?" Lucas asked.
Jeff grinned. "You'd just take it apart to see how it works."
Lucas shrugged. "Maybe. But I did hear people talking outside. About… Whisperers."
Jeff froze, ever so slightly. "That so?"
"They said the veins talk to them."
"Everyone's got stories."
"Yeah," Lucas said. "But you reacted like you've met one."
Jeff leaned back, eyes hooded. "Maybe I was one."
The words hung in the air.
Lucas didn't know what to say. "Is that why you weren't scared? During the collapse?"
Jeff smiled faintly, tiredly. "Kid, fear doesn't help you listen."
For a while, neither spoke. The air between them pulsed faintly with the rhythm of the veins.
Finally, Lucas said quietly, "When the System talks to me… I don't think it's just code or magic. It feels like it knows me. Like it's testing me."
Jeff nodded, as if he'd been expecting that. "The deeper you go, the more personal it gets. The veins don't speak the same to everyone. They reflect who you are."
Lucas gave a small, bitter laugh. "Then what does it say about me?"
"That you're still fighting it," Jeff said. "And that's good."
Lucas frowned. "You're saying I should ignore it?"
"I'm saying," Jeff said softly, "you should decide whether you're listening — or obeying."
The hum grew louder then, vibrating faintly in the walls. The veins above flickered between blue and a faint, almost imperceptible gold.
Jeff looked up, eyes narrowing. "It's restless tonight."
"Restless?"
"Something deep's stirring."
Lucas swallowed hard. "You mean the Heart?"
Jeff met his gaze. For a moment, something ancient flickered in his eyes — not light, but memory. "You've heard it," he said quietly.
Lucas hesitated, then nodded. "Once. It called me a 'Mender.' I don't even know what that means."
Jeff stared at him for a long time. Then, slowly: "If it's calling you that, then the mountain isn't done with you yet."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
Jeff smiled faintly. "Didn't say it would."
The air in the dorm grew heavier, the hum steady and deep. Jeff's gaze drifted back to the ceiling. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
Lucas sighed. "You really suck at ending conversations, you know that?"
Jeff grinned. "Practice."
He turned over, the light catching faint gold in his eyes again — rhythmic, pulsing with the veins' glow.
Lucas lay back, the words the mountain isn't done with you yet echoing in his mind.
He tried to tell himself the hum was just energy — not whispers, not calling, not knowing.
But when he closed his eyes, he could still feel it in his bones — like a heartbeat answering his own.
The Heart remembers… come closer.
He opened his eyes, wide awake again.
The veins on the wall pulsed once, golden. Then went still.