Astiron stirred, rousing himself from a nap that had been far longer than he'd anticipated. His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the artificial light of the Sim-Hall, a sprawling illusion of endless hills and softly waving flowers. Except… something wasn't quite right. The scenery flickered, glitching slightly above the horizon, where the once-perfect sky met the earth. The hills, bathed in odd hues, discolored at their edges, seemed off. The breeze that should have swept through the vibrant field had stalled, leaving the flowers frozen in place, as if held hostage by time itself.
He sighed. Outdated models.
Astiron muttered a curse under his breath, running a hand over his face. He was the one who'd built this damned simulation in the first place, so the glitches were particularly irritating.
"The nap was nice though," he murmured to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. His body felt creaky, weighed down by the limits of his avatar. He rose slowly, each movement measured as he straightened his spine and cracked his neck. His eyes narrowed as he glanced down at his hands. The edges of the avatar's form were blurring, the fine details unraveling as though the digital frame was losing cohesion.
"Already hitting the limit?" he mused aloud, flexing his fingers. Twelve hours—had it really been that long?
His gaze drifted to the far side of the Sim-Hall, where that stood, silent and unmoved.
The Arstra. Still in the same damn spot. It hadn't shifted a millimeter since he'd last glanced at it. For all the complications, for all the time spent in this waiting game, the blasted thing seemed annoyingly content to remain inert.
Astiron scowled, his irritation bubbling over. "What's taking him so long?"
By now, if the timeline held, Nornesh's transfer should have already begun. He knew the timing for the sequence.
First: the elemental's essence embedding itself into Aedhira, sparking the chain of events to bring the system online.
Second: all sub-systems and primary systems would activate, the ignition rune flaring to life like a match to dry kindling. After that, it was all mechanical—well, mechanical in the esoteric way these things worked.
Then, of course, there'd be the final meeting, the one Astiron had been thinking of most—the introduction of Aedhira to the third anchor: the so-called "grandfather figure."
That part of the plan had always been a bit of a long shot. Two anchor points—Nornesh and himself—were more than sufficient to stabilize the integration. Still, three? That would be ideal. Three was always better. Three. Would. Be. Good.
He let out a weak, almost defeated sigh.
Optimism wasn't his strong suit. Not anymore. Not after the last iteration of Project 51 had collapsed into failure. The memory of it still gnawed at him, a dull ache that he tried not to let fester for too long. The last one… it had gone wrong in ways that had forced him to rethink the entire approach. This time, he'd forsaken flesh as a concept altogether, taking a gamble on something far more difficult, far more volatile.
There were no trial runs this time. No safeties. The materials required were too scarce, too dangerous to handle more than once. Everything had to be perfect—perfect on the first attempt, with no room for error. So far, Aedhira had been reporting that things were moving according to plan, barring a few hiccups. Well… barring one particular hiccup.
The refugees.
Astiron huffed, his fingers drumming against his arm. That was a wild card he hadn't accounted for. Aedhira, in his well-meaning naivety, had saved a group of them. The act itself wasn't entirely unexpected—Aedhira had always leaned towards compassion, something Astiron hadn't exactly built into him but couldn't quite eliminate either. No, the unexpected part was how it had spiraled out of control. The refugees weren't part of the plan. Not this one, anyway.
Still, Astiron couldn't blame anyone for that. The Union's Civil War was something everyone saw coming, even if no one knew when. The unfortunate timing was just that—unfortunate. He'd already made contingencies for certain unexpected events, so the war itself wasn't a direct problem. At least, not yet.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the tension building there. Everything had been going smoothly, more or less, up until this point. Now, though, things were beginning to drift out of his grasp. It wasn't that he lacked control, but rather that something had shifted in the system—a change that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
He glanced back toward the Arstra.
Unmoving. Unchanged. Annoyingly steadfast in its stillness.
"Come on, kid," he muttered under his breath. "Hurry it up."
Astiron couldn't tell what was happening "in there," wherever "there" actually was. That was part of the problem. The layers of systems, interlocking pieces of magic and technology, had been designed to communicate seamlessly, but this in-between phase? It was always tricky. Even for him.
Astiron clenched his jaw, trying not to dwell on the growing uncertainty. He'd spent countless years piecing together this version of the project, taking the failures of the past and building upon them with a determination that bordered on obsession. This had to work.
This had to be different.
And yet, for all his meticulous planning, there were always variables. Always the unknowns.
He straightened, shaking off the momentary lapse into doubt. It was too early to start second-guessing. Aedhira was strong, resilient, capable of navigating the unpredictable twists of this process. He had to be. The success of everything hinged on it.
"Maybe this time," Astiron muttered, his voice quiet, almost as if he didn't fully believe it himself.
For now, though, all he could do was wait. The system would either stabilize, or it wouldn't.
Astiron's attention flickered back to the Arstra as he took in the situation. The pale blue energy that crackled around it was unlike anything he'd ever seen within the confines of the Sim-Hall. Despite the outdated models, this particular simulation wasn't supposed to behave like this. The Arstra, that annoying weapon, shouldn't have been reacting like that either—not unless something external was interfering. The red-hot scars left by the blue energy continued to glow, searing faint markings into the blade.
For a split second, panic surged through him. Aedhira had already attracted too many unsavory presences, and if something had latched onto him, like a parasite from the deep ether of the universe, things could spiral out of control fast.
He took a step forward, determination in his every movement. If it meant sacrificing the Avatar body to stabilize things and protect Aedhira, then so be it. This thing—whatever was happening—needed to stop. But just as he prepared to intervene, an unseen force halted him in his tracks. His body stiffened, and before he could react, a familiar voice drifted through the shaking air.
[Still so rash, I see, Astiron.]
The voice was distorted, warbled by the flickering instability of the simulation, but Astiron immediately recognized it. The tension in his muscles released in an exasperated sigh. Of course. He should've known.
"Elysium..." Astiron muttered under his breath. "Figures you'd pull a stunt like this."
The sparks intensified as if responding to his irritation. Astiron grumbled, still frozen in place. He tried to move again, but the force holding him was relentless. "You know, if this Sim-Hall gets ruined because of you, I'm adding it to your tab."
[Brat! After all these years, the first thing you say is that? Are you that shameless?!]
"Yes," Astiron replied without hesitation, the deadpan tone laced with sarcasm. "Shamelessly."
[Brat!]
"Old man!"
[Brat!]
"Old man!"
The back-and-forth volley of insults ricocheted through the glitching space, until Astiron finally ran out of breath. He huffed, leaning against an unseen force as if it could offer him support. The sparks surged and crackled more violently than before, their brilliant, chaotic light reflecting off the Arstra.
Elysium's laughter—boisterous and annoyingly full of itself—echoed across the hall, the space around them shimmering more violently with every burst of sound.
[Ah, Astiron... if only you could see yourself now. Without your real body, you wouldn't stand a chance against me.]
Astiron clicked his tongue, irritation bubbling up as he clenched his fists. "If I had my original body, you wouldn't be laughing so hard right now."
[Dream on, kid. You're an amusing dreamer. Keep dreaming!]
Astiron rolled his eyes, though there was a slight smirk tugging at his lips. The sparks around the simulation began to settle, their erratic flashes dimming slightly. He watched carefully as the space around the Arstra still rippled with the pale blue energy. This was no ordinary interference, even if Elysium's presence was here to manage it.
"What's your angle, old man?" Astiron muttered, though he wasn't expecting a straight answer. He knew better than that by now.
Elysium's response was almost drowned out by another violent surge of sparks. [You really think I'd show up for fun, brat? There's a reason, as always. But don't worry. This time, it's not you in the hot seat.]
Astiron raised an eyebrow. "Aedhira?"
[Keep up, will you? What else would I be here for?]
Astiron groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The last thing he needed was more cryptic nonsense, but it seemed that was Elysium's favorite currency. "If you've got a point, now's the time to get to it."
[Patience, Astiron. Patience.]
Elysium's voice crackled through the air, a faint hum of amusement lacing his words. The sparks had dimmed somewhat, but there was still an undeniable energy simmering between them, threatening to flare at any moment. Astiron crossed his arms, irritation pulsing behind his composed exterior.
[You've really outdone yourself this time.] Elysium's tone was more impressed than Astiron expected. [Whatever you did with the boy… it's working. His soul is stupidly robust. Sturdy. And—by the gods—huge.]
Astiron blinked, processing Elysium's words. There was a ripple of confusion on his face. "His soul?"
[Don't play dumb, Astiron. You know exactly what I'm talking about.] The spark of excitement in Elysium's voice was matched by the brief flare of light around the hall. [Given where the boy's soul originates from, I had some expectations, sure. But to find it this… resilient? That, I didn't expect. Especially not this quickly. It's barely been ten days since the 'Conception,' and yet... here we are.]
Astiron furrowed his brows, perplexed by the praise. He hadn't done anything extraordinary as far as Aedhira's development was concerned. "I have no idea what you're going on about," he replied. "I made sure his awakening was as smooth as possible—calm, peaceful, controlled. The most 'traumatic' event he's had was the Hordemother encounter, and honestly, he treated that like an errand, not a battle for survival. He even reported it back to me with barely any concern. The kid wasn't afraid or even rattled. If anything, it was a minor inconvenience."
Elysium chuckled, the sound sharp, like metal scraping against metal. [That's true. The boy's emotions are written all over him, after all. Wears his feelings on his sleeve, plain as day.]
Astiron couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him, nodding as he leaned back against the shimmering wall of energy. "Right? It's almost endearing how easy he is to read."
There was a rare smugness in Astiron's tone as he began recounting his first encounter with Aedhira. It had only been a dozen hours ago, but the way he spoke about it, you'd think it was a fond memory years in the making. Astiron regaled every little detail—the way Aedhira had stared up at him with wide-eyed confusion, the naive enthusiasm with which he approached everything, the slight awkwardness that had peppered their conversation. Astiron's pride in his creation shone through, though in a way that only a doting father could muster.
[You really like hearing yourself talk, don't you?] Elysium snapped, a bright spark flaring in annoyance as Astiron's smirk deepened.
"Jealous, old man?" Astiron replied, leaning into the taunt, his smirk widening just to irritate Elysium further.
[Jealous? Hardly.] Another spark. [But since you're so eager to brag, let me tell you about my little chat with the boy.]
The light around them flickered, and the room's already unstable energy surged as Elysium launched into his account of his own meeting with Aedhira, this time in the strange space of Aedhira's soulscape. Astiron listened carefully, though inwardly, he felt a stab of irritation at the thought of anyone else encroaching on Aedhira's mind. Still, what Elysium described was nothing like the Aedhira Astiron had spoken to just hours ago.
The boy Elysium spoke of sounded… different. Cooler, perhaps. Definitely less flustered, more collected. More... confident?
That last part gnawed at Astiron's mind. Confidence wasn't something Aedhira lacked per se, but it was raw, unrefined, and often came across as the brash impulsiveness of youth. Yet here was Elysium, describing someone more composed, measured—someone who seemed to have developed a subtle but tangible shift in demeanor.
It didn't make sense. People didn't change that fast. A few hours? It was impossible, especially for someone like Aedhira, whose emotions usually played out like an open book.
Astiron mulled over it as Elysium continued speaking, though his focus drifted. What could have triggered that shift in such a short time? The Hordemother encounter, while strange, didn't seem like enough to account for this kind of rapid development. It felt like something deeper, something far more profound, had occurred. Something Astiron wasn't seeing.
He frowned, glancing back at the Arstra, still sparking faintly in the distance. The connection between Aedhira and the blade was still an enigma, too. There were layers to this that even he, with all his expertise, couldn't fully grasp yet.
But as the pieces began to click in his mind, one thing became certain—Aedhira wasn't just growing. He was evolving. Faster than anticipated. Faster than anyone could have predicted.
"Confidence, huh?" Astiron muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Elysium.
[What was that?] Elysium's voice cut through, slightly more relaxed now that he'd finished his own boasting.
"Nothing," Astiron replied, though the thought continued to linger. Something had ignited in Aedhira, and whatever it was, it was more than just raw potential. It was something far more dangerous.
And Astiron had no idea what it meant for what came next.