CHAPTER V THE PULSE WITHIN

The hum didn’t go away. If anything, it was growing louder. More organized. It wasn’t just a noise. It had rhythm. A haunting cadence like some ancient thing breathing under the skin of the city. Five long pulses. Silence. Then five again. Over and over.

Noen began to feel it before it arrived. Like gravity folding inward. He didn’t sleep anymore. Couldn’t.

He spent nights standing at the window of his apartment, watching the rain fall in unnatural spirals, counting the number of streetlamps that flickered in sync with his own heartbeat. His reflection in the glass didn’t quite move when he did.

That morning he felt it. Not the hum. Something else. An ache in his chest, deep and terrible, like sorrow had turned to iron and lodged itself in his ribs.

Then the alarms began to scream.

Containment sirens howled across Caelridge, shrill and rhythmic. Red lights pulsed across rooftops. The air shuddered, and Noen felt the vibration in the soles of his boots.

A Mourner had breached the city’s outer wall.

And it wasn’t like the one that had knelt before him.

This one didn’t kneel.

It tore.

Citizens fled in a panic. The Mourner, massive, its body wreathed in endless coils of dark cloth, moved like smoke and lightning. Its mask was jagged, lined with spiked teeth. Its arms were too long. It shrieked once, and the windows in four city blocks exploded.

MIND agents deployed immediately. Drones screamed overhead.

But none of them were fast enough.

Noen didn’t know why he ran toward it.

Only that he had to.

The hum was guiding him now, directing his feet through the chaos. He moved through smoke and screaming, his heart thundering in sync with the thing in the sky.

The Mourner turned toward him.

It saw him.

And it stopped.

Not hesitated, but froze, like something had seized it from the inside.

Guns still fired.

People still shouted.

But Noen walked forward, out into the center of the street.

He raised his hand.

The Mourner... lowered its head.

The agents fell silent. Every weapon held in confusion. MIND operatives shouted orders, “stand down”, “hold fire”, “what the hell is happening”.

But Noen couldn’t hear them.

Only the hum.

And in a whisper that didn’t leave his mouth, he thought:

 “It’s okay.”

The Mourner began to fold.

Not physically, but emotionally. It collapsed in on itself, like sorrow melting. Its form shuddered.

Then…

In a sudden, blinding release…

It burst into violet ash.

Noen collapsed to his knees, choking.

The ash swirled around him, glittering with memories and weightless regret. His eyes burned. His bones felt like they’d split apart and been stitched together in the wrong order.

And then…

From inside his skull:

 “Warden registered. Hollow signature confirmed. Subject: Noen Saerun.”

His scream was silent.

His veins glowed.

And the world changed.