Chapter 18 – Arlen’s Adaptation

Time in Aurion wove its threads around Arlen Sharim. What had once been strange and dazzling was now part of the rhythms of his body—the gentle pulse of the Light Crystals regulating his waking hours, the metallic scent of the energy-charged air becoming familiar as the scent of the desert in his memory.

He walked through the corridors of the underground city without getting lost, his feet finding their way as if they had always belonged there. The living walls responded to his passage with subtle ripples of light, as if Aurion finally recognized him.

It was on one such morning, as he surveyed the central market, that Arlen truly understood the nature of the Aurians.

“Look,” Leynad whispered, pulling him closer to a group of artisans.

The masters worked in perfect synchrony, their hands moving in intricate patterns over a floating metal plate. There were no words exchanged, no visible signs. When one needed a tool, another would reach out to him before the thought could even be completed.

“How did they...?”

“Ethereal Connection,” Leynad replied, his blue eyes shining brightly. “It’s as if we were all drops of the same ocean.”

Arlen felt a chill run down his spine. The idea was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

Aeloria had found him that very day, at the edge of the Great Reflecting Pool—a natural pool where the reflections of the crystalline towers danced on the surface.

“You’re afraid,” she said, not as an accusation, but as a simple observation.

Arlen didn’t answer right away. His fingers traced circles in the water, disturbing the perfect images.

“It’s just that... in the desert, each man is an island. Survival depends on guarding your secrets, your resources.” He looked up at Aeloria. “Here, you share everything. Even your thoughts.”

Aeloria smiled, and for the first time, Arlen saw in that smile the wisdom of centuries.

“We are not so different from you, Arlen Sharim. We have simply learned that some secrets are better shared.”

She held out her hand, and in her palm floated a small neural crystal, pulsing in time with Arlen’s breathing.

“You don’t have to dive in all at once. Just get your feet wet.”

Arlen’s heart raced. The amulet on his chest gave off a comforting warmth, as if encouraging him. With a sigh, he touched the crystal.

The world exploded with sensation.

Memories that were not his own flooded his mind—an Aurian child’s first flight over the hanging rivers, a craftsman’s pride in completing his masterpiece, the silent love between two elders sharing an artificial sunset.

But beneath the beauty, Arlen sensed something else. An undercurrent of worry, an ancient fear that dared not show its face. How the entire city held its breath, waiting for something.

And then, like a breath of wind, the connection was gone.

Arlen fell to his knees, gasping. Aeloria was at his side in an instant, her eyes full of understanding.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” she asked softly.

Arlen didn’t need to answer. The truth weighed on his chest more than the amulet. Aurion was perfect, harmonious, united.

And she was terribly frightened.

Descriptive Chronicle:

The night in Aurion was unlike any other. The crystals darkened to a deep violet, emitting a glow that seemed to come from within the stones themselves. Arlen watched from the balcony of his chambers as the city fell asleep—or pretended to.

Below, among the elongated shadows of the towers, humanoid shapes moved with purpose. Guardians? Spies? Sleepwalkers? He couldn’t be sure.

The amulet pulsed in his chest, warm as a living heart. Arlen held him tightly, feeling for the first time the true weight of his mission.

Aurion had taken him in. Aurion had taught him.

And now Aurion was testing him.