They left the canyon before dawn. The ground trembled constantly now, and the once-cold Driftlands radiated warmth that could be felt miles away. Kael could sense the Mother Core’s pulse beneath every step—slower, deeper, alive.

As they crossed the plains, lightning began to strike horizontally across the sky, veins of light traveling from one horizon to the other. The air was charged with energy. Even the sand hummed.

Sera tightened the straps on her armor. “Whatever you did down there, it woke the entire planet.”

Kael’s eyes glowed faintly. “Not woke—connected. The fire’s talking to itself again.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

He smiled faintly. “It should. Fire learns faster than fear.”

By midday they reached an outpost of refugees fleeing east. Dozens of tents dotted the hills, people huddled around improvised generators that flickered with unstable energy. When Kael entered the camp, conversations stopped.

An old woman stepped forward, her face lined by years of sun and smoke. “You’re him,” she said softly. “The one from the fortress.”

Kael lowered his hood. “I’m no one special. Just someone who listens to the fire.”

She shook her head. “Then listen to this—the ground’s moving. The rivers are boiling. Our crops ignite at night. Whatever balance you brought, it’s breaking again.”

Sera looked at him sharply. “The Mother Core’s influence is spreading faster than we thought.”

Kael knelt, placing his hand on the soil. It was warm—not destructive, but restless. He could feel thousands of resonance points awakening beneath the crust, forming a network that spanned continents.

“It’s not breaking,” he said slowly. “It’s transforming. The world’s remembering what it was before machines caged its heartbeat.”

“But people aren’t ready for that,” Sera said. “They’ll panic. They’ll fight the fire again.”

“Then we have to teach them not to.”

That night, Kael gathered the refugees around a bonfire—the first natural one most of them had seen in years. He spoke quietly, not like a leader, but like a storyteller.

“Fire isn’t an enemy,” he told them. “It’s the first friend we ever had. It taught us how to see, how to build, how to survive. But when we tried to own it, it turned on us. Now it’s giving us a second chance. Don’t fear its warmth. Learn from it.”

The people listened, their faces lit by orange light. Even the wind seemed to calm.

Sera watched him from a distance, arms crossed. “You sound like a preacher.”

Kael smiled. “I’m just repeating what it told me.”

Suddenly the ground shook. Flames erupted from the horizon—massive plumes stretching miles into the sky. The night turned crimson as shockwaves rippled across the desert.

“The Core’s releasing energy pockets,” Sera shouted. “It’s starting a chain reaction!”

Kael stood, feeling the storm surge through him. His veins glowed brighter, resonating with the tremors. “It’s trying to speak—but no one’s listening.”

He turned to the crowd. “Get to Nova Pyra. Tell Lira the fire’s awakening everywhere.”

Sera grabbed his arm. “What about you?”

He looked toward the horizon where the flames danced like living giants. “Someone has to answer.”

Before she could stop him, Kael ran into the storm. The fire swallowed him whole, his body dissolving into light.

Sera shouted his name, but her voice vanished in the roar.

From within the inferno, Kael opened his eyes. The world around him shimmered, every spark connected, every heartbeat visible. He could see the Mother Core’s rhythm pulsing through land and sky. And somewhere far away, he heard Lira’s voice whispering through the flames: We still believe.

Kael smiled. “Then let’s burn brighter.”

The fire rose higher, spreading across the horizon like dawn breaking for the first time.