The Valdris training facility was underground.
Saevus followed Lyric through corridors that went down, down, down, past security checkpoints and reinforced doors that hissed when they opened. The air got colder. Lights became harsh fluorescent white.
"We keep training deep," Lyric explained. "Surface-level Vestige use can cause property damage. Down here, everything's reinforced. Hollow-proof."
"Hollow-proof?"
"Resistant to reality manipulation. Took our engineers twelve years to develop the alloy." She stopped at a final door. "Ready?"
"For what?"
She opened it.
The training hall was massive—easily three stories tall, stretching the length of a football field. The walls were that strange dark metal Lyric had mentioned, covered in scorch marks and deep gouges. Platforms jutted out at different heights. Obstacles everywhere. And in the center, four people were fighting.
Not sparring. Fighting.
A woman with red hair was phasing through attacks, her body flickering like a bad transmission. A huge man with metal arms was punching craters into the floor. Someone was creating barriers out of crystallized light. And the fourth—
The fourth was moving too fast to see properly. Just blurs and afterimages, striking from impossible angles.
"That's Team Seven," Lyric said. "Some of our best Adept-tier Keepers. They're preparing for a Deep Hollow expedition next week."
Saevus watched the red-haired woman phase through a massive punch, reappear behind her opponent, and kick him in the back of the head. He staggered but didn't go down.
"How many Remnants do they have?"
"Kalia—the phaser—has five. Orin—the big one—has six. The barriers are courtesy of Senna, who has four. And the speedster is Trace. He has seven."
Seven. Saevus only had one and Tomas's echo was already driving him crazy. How did you manage seven different voices?
"Don't look so worried," Lyric said. "You won't be training with them. Not yet." She led him across the hall to a smaller attached room. "You'll start with basics. Control, precision, endurance. Once you've mastered your Vestige, we'll discuss adding more."
The training room had targets, weights, meditation mats. And sitting on one of the mats was a man who looked like he'd been carved from stone. Scarred, bald, easily six and a half feet tall. His eyes were closed.
"Saevus Kain," Lyric said. "Meet Casimir Vohl. He'll be overseeing your development."
The man opened his eyes. They were pale gray, almost colorless. "You're late."
"I'm exactly on time," Lyric replied. "Don't scare him off on the first day."
"If he scares that easily, he won't last a week." Casimir stood, joints creaking. "You're the Null who integrated. Let me see."
He walked over and grabbed Saevus's face, fingers hard as metal, turning his head side to side. Studying his eyes. Saevus tried not to flinch.
"Hmm. Low Dissonance for a fresh integration. Good pupil response. No signs of Hollow Sickness." Casimir released him. "You'll do. Strip."
"What?"
"I need to see your physical condition. Strip to your underwear."
Saevus looked at Lyric. She nodded. He sighed and pulled off his shirt.
Casimir walked around him like he was inspecting equipment. "Malnourished. Underdeveloped musculature. Probably never had proper combat training." He tapped Saevus's ribs. "These were broken once. Healed badly. Do they hurt?"
"Sometimes."
"We'll fix that. Valdris has the best medical division in Zenith Span." He stepped back. "You can dress. Here's how this works: You train with me six hours a day, six days a week. We focus on control first, then application, then integration of additional Remnants. You do what I say, when I say it, or you wash out. Questions?"
Saevus pulled his shirt back on. "Just one. How many Remnants do you have?"
Casimir smiled. It wasn't friendly. "Fifteen. I'm an Architect. I've forgotten more about Vestiges than you'll ever learn." He gestured to the training area. "Now. Show me what you can do."
Lyric left. The door sealed behind her.
Saevus was alone with Casimir.
"Well?" the man said. "I'm waiting."
Saevus faced the nearest target—a metal dummy bolted to the floor. Breathed. Reached for that cutting sense in his mind. Tomas whispered approval.
He extended his hand and pulled.
The spatial cut appeared, invisible but there, and the dummy's head fell off.
"Hmm," Casimir said. "Again. This time, cut only the right arm."
Saevus tried. The cut went through the shoulder and chest. The dummy collapsed in pieces.
"Again."
They went through twelve dummies. By the end, Saevus could make precise cuts, but his head was pounding and Tomas was shouting about measurements and angles and why couldn't he just do it right—
"Stop," Casimir said. "You're forcing it. Sit."
Saevus sat. His hands were shaking.
Casimir grabbed a water bottle and tossed it to him. "Your problem is control. You're treating your Vestige like a weapon you picked up off the ground. It's not. It's part of you. Part of the consciousness you integrated."
"Tomas."
"The echo has a name?"
"He was a fabricator. Worked with metal. His name was Tomas and he had a daughter and he died when machinery collapsed and—" Saevus stopped. Shook his head. "Sorry. The memories bleed through."
"That's normal for the first month. But you need to learn to separate his knowledge from his identity. Take what's useful—the understanding of cutting, of precision—and leave the rest. Can you do that?"
"I don't know."
"Try. Close your eyes."
Saevus closed them.
"Feel the echo. Tomas. He's there, yes?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now imagine he's a person standing next to you. Separate. Not part of you. Just someone nearby."
Saevus tried. Slowly, carefully, he mentally pushed Tomas away. The presence resisted, clinging, but eventually it separated. Became distinct.
"Better," Casimir said. "Now. Ask him about cutting. Not his daughter. Not his death. Just the technical knowledge."
Saevus asked.
And Tomas answered. Quietly. Clearly. Showing him angles and force vectors and how to think about severing cleanly. No emotional noise. Just information.
"Open your eyes."
Saevus did. His headache was gone.
"That's how you manage Dissonance," Casimir said. "You acknowledge the echo without being consumed by it. It takes practice. Most Keepers need months to learn this. You just did it in ten minutes."
"Is that good?"
"It's abnormal. But then, you're an abnormal case." Casimir gestured to a fresh dummy. "Again. This time, listen to what the echo knows. Ignore everything else."
Saevus faced the target. Extended his hand. Felt for the knowledge Tomas was offering—the perfect angle, the exact point of severance.
He pulled.
The dummy's right arm fell off. Clean. Perfect.
"Better," Casimir said. "Now do it a hundred more times."
---
Six hours later, Saevus could barely stand.
Every muscle ached. His Vestige had carved up sixty training dummies and three reinforced walls (accidents, mostly). Tomas's echo was exhausted and quiet. Saevus felt like he'd been beaten with hammers.
Casimir looked fresh as morning. "That's enough for today. Tomorrow, six AM sharp. Don't be late."
"Can I ask you something?"
"No."
"I'm asking anyway. Why did you agree to train me?"
Casimir paused at the door. "Because Lyric asked. And because you remind me of someone I used to know. A long time ago." He left.
Saevus limped out of the training hall. His legs were rubber. His head was full of fog. He wanted to collapse and sleep for a week.
Instead he found Nox and Idris waiting in the lobby.
"Well?" Nox demanded. "How was it?"
"Brutal."
"Good," Idris said. "If it was easy, they'd be wasting your time. Learn anything?"
"How to separate the echo from myself. Kind of. I think."
"That's huge. Most Initiates never figure that out." Idris squeezed his shoulder. "Proud of you, kid."
They took the elevator up. Valdris had provided them quarters on the twenty-third floor—actual apartments, not the storage room at Idris's workshop. Nox was delighted. She'd never had her own bedroom before.
Saevus showered, ate something from the cafeteria (real meat, just like Lyric promised, and it tasted incredible), and collapsed on a bed that was actually comfortable.
Sleep came fast.
Dreams came faster.
He was in the Hollow again, surrounded by gray fog. But this time he wasn't alone. Dozens of figures stood around him, made of broken glass and smoke and screaming faces. Remnants. All staring at him.
*Brother,* one whispered.
*Thief,* said another.
*Useful,* said a third.
They pressed closer, reaching for him with impossible hands, and Saevus tried to run but the fog was thick, pulling at his legs like mud—
He woke up gasping.
His room was dark. Quiet. Empty.
Just a dream.
He checked his phone. Three AM. He wasn't getting back to sleep.
Saevus got up, padded to the window. From here he could see the Lows, far below, a tangle of lights and shadows. Yesterday he'd lived down there. Today he lived in a corporate tower with his own room and three meals a day and a sadistic trainer who'd work him to death.
Everything had changed so fast.
Was it worth it?
He didn't know yet.
But he was going to find out.
---
The next morning, Casimir introduced him to pain.
Real, systematic, educational pain.
"Your body is weak," the trainer said. "So we fix it. Physical conditioning, two hours before Vestige training. Every day."
Two hours of running, lifting, climbing, fighting. Casimir moved through the exercises like a machine, never slowing, never showing mercy. When Saevus collapsed, Casimir made him get up. When he begged for water, Casimir made him do ten more push-ups first.
"Keepers die when their bodies fail," the man said. "I won't let you die because you're too weak to run."
After conditioning came Vestige work. Today's lesson: distance.
"Your cuts work up to six feet," Casimir explained. "That's pathetic. Range is survival. We're extending it."
They spent four hours making Saevus create cuts at increasing distances. Seven feet. Eight. Nine. At ten feet his Vestige sputtered and failed. At eleven feet, trying to force it made his nose bleed.
"That's your limit," Casimir said. "For now. We'll push it gradually. Forcing it will just burn you out."
"How far can you cut?"
"Two hundred meters. But I have fifteen Remnants and twenty years of practice." He handed Saevus a towel for the blood. "You're doing fine. Better than fine. Most Initiates would have passed out by now."
High praise from Casimir apparently meant "you're not completely useless."
On day three, they introduced combat.
Casimir put on padded gear and attacked him. No warning. Just sudden violence.
Saevus barely dodged the first punch. The second caught him in the ribs—the broken ones that had healed badly—and he went down hard.
"Get up."
He got up.
Casimir attacked again. Saevus tried to use his Vestige, but Casimir was too close, too fast. Another punch. Another.
"You're thinking too much," the trainer said. "Vestiges are instinct. React. Don't plan."
Easy for him to say.
The beating continued for an hour. By the end, Saevus had landed exactly one cut—a glancing blow across Casimir's padded shoulder. The man nodded approval.
"Progress," he said. "Tomorrow we do it again."
Day four was more conditioning. Day five was precision work. Day six, Casimir introduced him to the Resonance Chamber.
"Step inside," the trainer said.
The chamber was a metal box barely big enough for one person. Saevus stepped in. The door sealed.
Instantly, pressure. Like the air had turned to concrete, pressing down on him from all sides. He couldn't move. Could barely breathe.
"This simulates high-Dissonance environments," Casimir's voice came through a speaker. "Deep Hollow expeditions feel like this. You need to function under pressure. Try to manifest your Vestige."
Saevus tried.
Nothing happened. The pressure was too much, too distracting. Tomas's echo was panicking, screaming, trying to claw free—
"Calm," Casimir said. "Separate the echo. Remember your training."
Saevus focused. Pushed Tomas away. Created distance.
The pressure was still there, but manageable now.
He extended his hand. Pulled.
A cut appeared in the air. Weak, flickering, but there.
"Good. Now hold it."
Saevus held the cut for thirty seconds before collapsing. Casimir pulled him out of the chamber.
"You lasted longer than I expected," the trainer said. "We'll increase duration gradually. By the end of the month, you'll be able to function in any environment."
"Great," Saevus gasped. "Can't wait."
Casimir almost smiled. "You're doing well, Kain. Better than well. At this rate, you'll be ready for your second integration in two weeks."
"Two weeks?" That was fast. Most Keepers waited months between integrations.
"You have abnormally high tolerance. We should take advantage of it. Lyric wants you operational as soon as possible."
"Operational for what?"
"That's not my department. I just prepare you." Casimir handed him a water bottle. "Rest day tomorrow. You've earned it."
Saevus went back to his apartment and slept for fourteen hours straight.
---
The rest day was Sunday. Nox dragged him to the academy to see her new school, bubbling with excitement about teachers and classes and other kids who didn't try to steal her shoes. Idris had settled into a consulting role, helping Valdris improve their training protocols.
Everything was... good.
Too good.
Saevus couldn't shake the feeling he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
That evening, Lyric called him to her office.
The view was better up here—fiftieth floor, glass walls, the entire city spread below like a circuit board. Lyric sat behind a desk that probably cost more than Saevus's entire former life.
"Sit," she said.
He sat.
"Casimir's reports are excellent. You're progressing faster than anyone anticipated. We're very pleased."
"Thanks."
"I have a proposition. There's a situation developing in the Lows. A Remnant cluster. Small rift, nothing catastrophic, but it needs clearing before it attracts dangerous entities. I want you to assist."
"Me? I've only been training for a week."
"You'll be with an experienced team. This is observation, primarily. But it's time for you to see real Keeper work." She pulled up a hologram—a map of the Lows, a red dot pulsing in a familiar area. "The rift opened near your old neighborhood. We're sending Team Seven tomorrow at dawn. You'll accompany them."
Saevus stared at the map. That was three blocks from Idris's workshop. From where he'd lived most of his life.
"What happens to the people in that area?"
"They'll be evacuated during the operation. Standard procedure."
"And if they resist?"
"They won't be given a choice." Lyric met his eyes. "This is part of the job, Saevus. Protecting people sometimes means making them do things they don't want to do."
He thought about the credit card. The apartment. The food. The training. Everything Valdris had given him.
He thought about the people in the Lows who didn't have any of that. Who'd be forced from their homes because a rift opened.
"Okay," he said. "I'll go."
"Good. Report to the vehicle bay at 0500 hours. Bring your focus." She returned to her work, dismissing him.
Saevus left.
In the elevator, alone, he pressed his forehead against the cool metal wall and tried to figure out when he'd started feeling like a weapon instead of a person.
Tomorrow he'd find out what Valdris really wanted from him.
Tomorrow he'd see what kind of Keeper he was going to become.
He wasn't sure he'd like the answer.