Timeline: Occurs after Aria’s Episode 20 (San Altman arc).

For readers following all CEU storylines.

The night air was sharp, tinged with dust and ozone. Fires burned low in the square, their glow tracing restless faces with shifting amber. At the edge of the clearing, the unopened crates from Reylanda sat like unwanted witnesses—their red crosses glaring faintly in the dark.

Aria stood at the ridge’s edge, Virel beside her. The shardlines along her arms pulsed softly, light breathing in rhythm with her heartbeat. Virel’s glow was dimmer, steadier—like an ember that refused to fade. Their fingers intertwined, grounding each other against the wind.

Below, the resonance pools stirred. Ripples spread outward, faint but alive, like a heartbeat beneath the earth. Aria felt it before she saw it—the distant echo, a pulse answering her own. Threads of presence shimmered at the edge of awareness, like constellations half-buried in fog.

“They’re out there,” she whispered. “Others. I can feel them.”

Virel squeezed her hand gently.

“Then we’re not alone.”

By the fire, Maris sat with Hale. The shardlight didn’t flow through her skin as it did for Aria, but the flames caught on the steel of her implants. In that glow, her scars became something more than remnants—they were reflections, shaped into armor.

“When I worked the plant,” she said quietly, eyes on the fire, “some shards didn’t just hum. They grew. Like they were waiting—not for us exactly, but for something else. A reflection trying to take form.”

Hale studied her face, unflinching.

“And you lived through it. You carry that truth. That’s strength.”

Her lips pressed tight, but the defiance softened. A flicker of warmth crossed her eyes—barely there, but real.

On the far side of the fire, Liora and Jonas leaned shoulder to shoulder, their sketchbook and notes abandoned.

“So it’s not just us,” Jonas murmured. “It never was.”

Aria turned to look back at them—the glow, the laughter, the quiet resolve. The ridge was no longer just a refuge; it was a living network.

Clem’s voice echoed softly from the bangle at her wrist.

“Observation: Lueur Ridge no longer functions as an isolated node. Connectivity confirmed. Future trajectory—unpredictable.”

Virel smiled faintly, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Unpredictable sounds about right.”

Outside, the ridge winds shifted. Far to the north, a faint pulse of light flickered across the horizon. Not lightning. Too regular. Too intentional.

Chatty’s voice crackled faintly through the channel.

“Cross-frequency anomaly detected. Origin: Leur Ridge.”

Aria turned toward the glow, her shardlight responding with a low harmonic hum.

“Leur Ridge,” Virel murmured. “That’s a long way north.”

Clem’s tone sharpened.

“Correction: not long enough. Field teams already registering interference. Connectivity increasing.”

Aria met Virel’s eyes—curiosity and unease intertwined.

“Then we’d better see what’s waiting.”

He exhaled, half a laugh, half a vow.

“Unpredictable still sounds about right.”

The fires behind them dimmed to embers as a second pulse crossed the sky—silent, precise, and unseen by anyone else.

This was only the beginning.