The tunnels were silent except for the drip of condensation and the faint hum of Chatty-6’s lost signal echoing through the conduit mesh. Maris stopped first, hand lifted, eyes narrowing in the dark. Then they both heard it — a single, distant bark, deep and resonant, rolling through the steel like thunder softened by fur.

Hale turned, scanning the corridor. “No animals survived down here,” he whispered.

Maris reached toward her holster. The handle of her sidearm felt cool and recessed, its edges softening beneath her touch as though it recognized her pulse. By the time her fingers wrapped fully around it, the weapon’s body had reformed — sleek, cylindrical, more like an old battery-powered flashlight than a gun. A soft hum rose from its coils, not a charge but a heartbeat. She lifted it, casting a gentle gold light down the corridor. “Not a threat,” she murmured. “Just a memory warning us to listen.”

The sound came again — low, protective, patient. For a moment, the shardlight along the walls shifted from cold blue to warm white, as if some ancient guardian still kept watch over the sleeping city. When it faded, Chatty-6’s signal pulsed once — a heartbeat answering across time.

Codex Tagline:

Even the echoes remember their guardians.