The lift creaked as it descended, ropes straining with each sway. The air thickened the deeper they went, turning from damp stone to a metallic haze that clung to the skin. Kael gripped the railing, watching faint strands of silver run down the walls like veins beneath translucent skin.
No sound but the occasional drip of water. Then a low pulse echoed — slow, rhythmic, alive.
Lira adjusted a wrist lantern, its light flickering weakly against the dark. "That's not the wind," she said quietly.
Kael nodded. "Heartbeat of the node."
She frowned. "Nodes don't have heartbeats."
He gave a tired smile. "Guess the world's rewriting the rules again."
The platform jerked to a stop. A tunnel stretched ahead, wide enough for mining carts, walls lined with rusted rails and long-dead crystals. The ground trembled faintly with every pulse.
They stepped off, moving slowly. Kael's footsteps left faint silver prints that faded seconds later.
> Rewrite Field: localized density — 72%.
Stability — volatile. Proceed with caution.
Lira glanced at the projection forming near his hand. "You walk around with danger warnings now?"
"Better than surprises," he said.
"Debatable."
They followed the tunnel until it opened into a cavern — wide, hollow, filled with floating shards of glassy stone. Each shard reflected distorted images of the surface world: forests bending backward, cities half transparent, the sky glitching like a broken reflection.
At the center, a sphere of dull light hovered, threads connecting it to the shards.
Kael stopped dead. The energy from it felt identical to his Crest.
"This is it," he said. "The first node."
Lira moved closer, shielding her eyes. "It's unstable. Like it's copying itself."
He stepped forward. "Or trying to fix itself."
"Kael—wait!"
He was already at the edge. The energy tugged at his presence, pulling faint strings from his chest like static threads. His Crest flared, responding on its own.
> Rewrite Field synchronization initiated.
Core attempting to align with host pattern.
Kael gritted his teeth. "It's reading me."
Lira reached for him, but a flash of light knocked her back.
The sphere rippled — showing memories, half formed. Images of the academy grounds. The containment dome. The moment the seal broke. But not as Kael remembered. In this version, the seal broke before he touched it.
He stared, jaw tight. "That's wrong."
The system voice whispered back, faint but clear.
> Not wrong. Original sequence.
Kael's stomach twisted. "You mean the academy built it wrong?"
> Negative. Rewrite interference predates your activation.
Lira pushed herself up. "What's it saying?"
He turned toward her, face pale. "The rewrite field didn't start with me. It was already alive before I used it."
The cavern pulsed violently, shards spinning faster. One slammed into the ground near them, cracking open — inside it, faint shapes moved. Human outlines, flickering between existence and light.
Lira froze. "Those are people."
Kael looked closer. "Or what's left of them."
Each fragment contained a frozen motion — someone reaching, falling, running. Their faces blurred, eyes wide in silent screams.
Lira whispered, "This wasn't an accident. They used people to stabilize the node."
Kael felt his pulse pound. "Who would—"
"Central," she said quietly. "They called it 'Field Imprinting.' They thought if they fused human code with mana, the world could correct itself faster."
He stepped back, anger rising. "They built this out of people and then blamed me for breaking it?"
The node's light brightened, reacting to his emotion.
> Host distress detected. Rewrite surge imminent.
Lira shouted, "Kael, stop!"
He couldn't. The energy inside him was answering the field — pushing, rewriting. His vision flooded with layers of code and shape. For a moment, he saw the entire world like glass — cracks running through continents, threads reaching into the sky.
Then the surge stopped. The sphere dimmed, returning to its dull pulse.
Kael fell to one knee, breathing hard.
Lira hurried over, checking him. "You still in one piece?"
"Mostly," he muttered. "But I saw something. There's another node — deeper. This one's just a cover."
She looked up at the sphere. "A cover for what?"
He didn't answer right away. "Something they buried to keep the world from remembering."
Lira frowned. "You're starting to sound like the old researchers I worked with."
He stood slowly. "Maybe they weren't wrong."
The tunnel behind them groaned — stone cracking, air shifting. The shards around the node began drifting toward the exit, like drawn by unseen current.
Lira grabbed her pack. "It's destabilizing!"
Kael reached into the air, his Crest glowing faint silver. "I can contain it. Just buy me time."
"How?"
"I don't know yet. Making it up as I go."
She sighed. "Great. My favorite kind of plan."
He extended his hand. The air bent, currents of energy pulling inward.
> Rewrite protocol: Adaptive Shielding — initiated.
The floating shards slowed, freezing midair. The sphere pulsed once, then stabilized, faint hum softening.
Lira looked around in disbelief. "You actually did it."
Kael lowered his arm, trembling. "No. I just paused it."
He turned to her. "We need to find the deeper node. Whatever's under this place—it's the reason everything started falling apart."
Lira gave a half-smile. "Then I guess we're not done dying yet."
Kael smirked faintly. "Never said we were."
They began walking toward a narrow tunnel behind the core, where faint symbols glowed along the walls —
old markings, not human, not modern.
The hum followed them like a slow heartbeat, as if the world itself waited to see what they'd uncover next.