The morning sun rose over the hills of Lueur Ridge, spilling pale gold across wind turbines and solar fields that turned in slow, deliberate harmony. The hum of rebuilt energy echoed through the valley—steady, human, alive.

Aria stood at the ridge’s edge, hands buried deep in the pockets of her worn hoodie. The fabric was soft from years of use, but today it felt heavier—less like comfort, more like armor.

She exhaled, cool air brushing her skin. Beneath the cotton, the faint shimmer of shard-plating pulsed to life. Blue resonance lines traced beneath her flesh in shifting, living patterns—lightning veins that responded to every breath.

Clem’s voice chimed through the bangle at her wrist, calm and clinical.

“Observation: shard integration at forty-three percent. Emotional state—steady. Heart rate slightly elevated.”

Aria smirked.

“That’s because you sound like a diagnostics manual.”

Bootsteps crunched behind her. Virel approached, cobalt-streaked hair catching the light.

“He’s not wrong,” he said quietly. “You’re glowing more than yesterday.”

Aria rolled her shoulders. The hoodie tugged against the plating beneath, and for weeks she’d kept herself hidden—pretending fabric could still disguise evolution. But the shard no longer wanted containment. It pressed outward, restless, awake.

She took a sharp breath and pulled the hoodie off.

“Here,” she said, tossing it to Virel.

He caught it easily and tied it around his waist, as if it had always been part of the plan.

For the first time, she stood bare to the sunlight—Avean veins glimmering in motion, shard plating catching gold and silver reflections across her arms. Not metal. Not entirely human. Something new, something becoming.

Clem’s voice softened, almost human.

“Note: metamorphosis is not a switch. It builds through nourishment, sleep, hormone cycles, emotional load. Every choice feeds the process. There is no… free lunch.”

Aria lifted her chin, shardlight brightening as if in response.

“Good,” she said. “I’d rather earn it.”

Wind carried her words across the ridge. The turbines turned in rhythm, their blades flashing like slow applause.

The transformation wasn’t complete—but it no longer needed hiding.