The air on Virelia pressed against Kael’s suit like a living thing, thick and metallic, tasting of rust and ozone. His boots crunched over jagged black stone as he moved toward the central tower, its spire piercing the violet sky. The others were already there, silhouettes against the flickering light of the station’s failing generators. A low hum vibrated through his bones—a sound that shouldn’t have existed. The energy readings spiked again, and Kael’s visor flared red. “This isn’t normal,” he said, though the words felt hollow. The tower’s base pulsed faintly, a rhythm that didn’t match any known frequency. Dr. Lira Voss stood at the edge of the platform, her gloved hand pressed to the structure’s surface. She didn’t look up. “It’s responding,” she said. “To us. To the station.” Kael stepped closer, his breath fogging in the cold. The tower’s metal was warm, almost alive. He reached out, fingers brushing the surface—then jerked back as a jolt shot through his arm. A sharp crack split the air. The ground trembled. “Everyone back!” Commander Renn’s voice cut through the static. The tower’s light intensified, blooming into a swirling vortex of blue and gold. Kael’s ears rang. Somewhere, a panel exploded. Smoke coiled into the sky. Lira stumbled but didn’t fall. “It’s not an energy source,” she whispered. “It’s a signal.” The words hung between them as the tower’s glow deepened, casting long shadows across the plateau. Kael glanced at the others—Renn’s face was tight, fists clenched; Engineer Jax stared at the vortex, wide-eyed; Medic Tala clutched her medkit like a shield. The hum grew louder, resonating in Kael’s teeth. He thought of the data streams, the anomalies they’d ignored. Of the way the tower’s pulse had synchronized with their own heartbeats. “We need to shut it down,” Renn said, but his voice was already drowned out by the sound. Lira turned to him, her eyes reflecting the vortex’s light. “No. We need to listen.” The tower’s glow flared, and Kael felt something shift inside him—a pull, a recognition. The others didn’t understand. They never did. He stepped forward, toward the vortex, his boots sinking into the dust. The air thickened, and for a moment, he saw it: a pattern, ancient and vast, woven into the light. A language. A warning. Then the ground split beneath him.
