Rourke didn't collapse so much as drift—his awareness loosening, stretching, and then slipping free of the present. The floor beneath him dissolved like sand falling through fingers. Seren's voice—once sharp, urgent—faded into a distant murmur swallowed by an expanding silence.
A different world took hold of him.
Not a dream.
Not a hallucination.
A memory.
But not his.
A World Made of Light
Rourke floated above a sphere-city so enormous it dwarfed anything humans had ever built. Its surface gleamed with living metal, every panel shimmering with subtle gravitational signatures. Bridges arced in shapes that defied traditional geometry. Entire districts floated, anchored not by supports but by harmonized energy fields.
A soft glow rippled through the structures, like a heartbeat moving through stone.
Rourke had never witnessed anything so breathtaking—or so alien.
Figures moved across the walkways. Tall silhouettes, graceful and radiant. Their bodies shimmered faintly, silver strands weaving beneath their skin as though gravitational currents flowed directly through their veins. Their eyes glowed with quiet intelligence.
He didn't need the guide's voice to understand.
These were the Solarii.
His people.
A group of children practiced levitating metallic spheres. They didn't strain or grimace; they simply willed the objects to obey. A teacher adjusted their posture, guiding the flow of energy as effortlessly as if she were teaching handwriting.
Everywhere Rourke looked, he saw artistry woven into power. The Solarii did not force gravity—they partnered with it.
He felt a pang of longing.
A home he had never known tugged at something deep inside him.
The Fracture in the Sky
The city's serene glow dimmed. A tremor rippled through the air, so subtle at first that the inhabitants barely reacted.
Then the sky split open.
Rourke felt the moment like a blade pressed against his chest. A dark seam tore across the heavens, stretching wider until it became a wound leaking pale, cold light.
Silence fell across the city.
A silence filled with dread.
Through the rupture descended figures that made Rourke's skin crawl.
Tall, gaunt shapes encased in mirrored plating. Their limbs bent at unnatural angles. Their heads were smooth ovals with glowing trinary eyes. They drifted downward as easily as falling feathers, guided by fields that crushed space and stretched time in sickening ways.
Hunters.
Rourke's breath hitched even though the memory did not involve him directly.
The Solarii reacted instantly.
Warriors leapt upward in spirals of silver fire.
Defenders shaped barriers from compressed gravity.
Their voices rang through the city, sharp and unified.
But the Hunters answered with annihilation.
One raised an arm.
Gravity inverted across a district.
Buildings twisted like paper.
Solarii warriors were ripped from flight and crushed midair.
The Hunters did not fight—they erased.
Rourke felt helpless even though he was only witnessing an echo. The sense of loss pressed into his ribs like a second heartbeat.
The Final Stand
The memory jumped.
Now he hovered above the city's core—a massive sphere of concentrated gravitic energy. It pulsed violently, flickering as the Solarii elders gathered around it.
They formed a circle, each one linking their essence to the core. Their voices harmonized into a single resonant tone. The air thickened until it hummed visibly.
They were sealing the breach.
Rourke felt the strain in their bodies. The effort required. The sacrifice it demanded.
The Hunters felt it too.
And they retaliated.
A wave of crushing force radiated from their ranks—pure destructive gravity that warped everything it touched. Towers buckled. Bridges snapped. Even the core's protective shell cracked.
One by one, the elders fell.
Rourke gritted his teeth, fists closed uselessly at his sides.
He knew what was coming.
The vision lurched again.
The Last Child
He now stood inside a dim chamber.
Dust and broken metal lay scattered everywhere.
In the center knelt a Solarii woman, her body fracturing under the strain of keeping herself alive.
Yet her hands were steady.
Clutched against her chest was a small infant wrapped in shimmering cloth. The baby glowed faintly—its essence already strong enough to be felt rather than seen.
Her voice trembled as she whispered to him. Rourke couldn't understand the words, but the intent seeped into his bones.
Love.
A promise.
Hope carved into the final heartbeat of a dying civilization.
She traced a swirling sigil in the air. The symbol pulsed, then wrapped the infant in a protective halo—an escape cocoon forged from her remaining strength.
The chamber shook violently. The ceiling cracked.
The woman exhaled one last time.
Light swallowed her body.
But the cocoon drifted through the ruin, weightless and determined.
It drifted into the void—
carrying the last Solarii child toward a future no one could predict.
Darkness swallowed the memory.
Back to the Ruin
Rourke gasped as reality slammed back into him. His hands hit the cold metal platform. Seren grabbed his shoulder, steadying him.
"Rourke—talk to me. What happened?"
He raised his head slowly.
The glowing figure hovered nearby, silent, patient.
Rourke's throat felt dry. "I saw them. The Solarii. Their world. Their end."
Seren's eyes widened. "You saw… all of it?"
Rourke nodded. "The baby. The last one. He escaped through the void."
The guide's voice flowed through the chamber like a quiet tide.
"He did."
Rourke stared, heart pounding. "And you're telling me that child lived long enough to become part of humanity?"
"His essence hid inside your species," the figure replied.
"Waiting for a form it could survive in."
Seren whispered, "Rourke… does that mean—"
Rourke's voice cracked. "I'm… him?"
The guide drifted closer.
"You are not the descendant of the last child."
"You ARE the continuation—the final bearer of his core."
Rourke's pulse roared in his ears.
The last Solarii.
Living in a human shell.
Awakened by accident.
Hunted by ancient enemies.
His voice was barely a whisper. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
The guide bowed its head.
"You must decide whether to reclaim what you are…
or let the last light of our kind fade forever."