Zane sat on the edge of a makeshift cot in the corner of the train car, the Cipher Core resting cold and inert in his lap. The hum of the generator and the occasional beeping of Rhea's monitors were the only sounds, but in his head, there was nothing but noise. Her words from earlier echoed like the sharp crack of breaking glass: "The Core doesn't make you stronger. It makes you vulnerable. And if you're not careful, it'll take everything."
He glanced at the Core, its faint glow barely illuminating his trembling fingers. The thing felt heavier now as if the weight of Rhea's warning had seeped into it. He wanted to throw it across the room, hear it smash into useless shards against the metal wall. But deep down, he knew it wouldn't break. It wouldn't let him go that easily.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Kade said, leaning against a console with his arms crossed. His tone was casual, but there was an edge of concern in his voice.
"Feels more like I'm carrying one," Zane muttered, not looking up.
Kade chuckled dryly. "Welcome to the Cipher Core club. Membership's mandatory, and the benefits are nonexistent."
Rhea, seated at her terminal across the room, didn't even glance back. "He's thinking about quitting."
Zane flinched at how matter-of-fact she sounded, like she could read his mind. "I never said—"
"You don't have to," Rhea interrupted, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. "The fear is written all over your face. You're wondering if you can just walk away from this. If you can hand the Core to someone else and pretend none of this ever happened."
Zane clenched his jaw but didn't deny it. She was right. The thought had been gnawing at him since she'd told her story. The Cipher Core wasn't just a tool—it was a parasite. And he was supposed to go toe-to-toe with something as powerful as the Echo, armed with a weapon that might destroy him before it even touched his enemy? The odds felt impossible.
"Can I?" he asked quietly, the question directed more at himself than anyone else.
Rhea stopped typing and turned to face him, her expression as sharp as a blade. "You could try. But here's the thing about running from the Core—it doesn't care. You could drop it in the deepest trench or bury it in the hardest rock, and it would find its way back into someone's hands. Maybe Eidolon's. Maybe the Echo's."
Kade chimed in, his voice softer than usual. "And if that happens, you think this city's bad now? Try living in a place where the Core is being used to amplify Eidolon's control. Where the Echo doesn't just adapt—it dominates."
Zane exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping. "So, I don't have a choice."
Rhea's lips twitched into something resembling a smile. "You always have a choice. You just don't like the options."
For a long moment, Zane said nothing. His gaze drifted to the monitors on the wall, where the words "Echo proximity: 10 kilometers" glowed ominously. The numbers were counting down, a silent reminder that time wasn't on their side.
"You know," he said finally, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "when I found this thing, I thought, 'Hey, maybe I've just won the scavenger lottery.' Figured I could sell it, buy myself a quiet life somewhere in the Dregs, and never have to think about the Lumina or Eidolon again."
Kade barked out a laugh. "Yeah, the Core's great at making you feel like you've hit the jackpot. Then it flips the script and turns you into the city's most wanted."
"Why me, though?" Zane asked, his frustration boiling over. "Why did it have to be me? There's nothing special about me. I'm not a soldier or a hacker or some genius engineer. I don't even know how to use this thing!"
Rhea stood, her movements deliberate as she walked over to him. She stopped just short of the cot, looking down at him with an intensity that made him squirm. "Do you think the Core chose you because you're special?"
Zane hesitated, unsure how to answer. "I don't know. Maybe?"
"It didn't," Rhea said bluntly. "The Core doesn't care about you. It doesn't care about anyone. It's a tool. It ends up in the hands of whoever's desperate enough to grab it. And right now, that's you."
"Wow," Zane said, the bitterness in his voice impossible to miss. "You really know how to make a guy feel like a hero."
Rhea smirked faintly. "Heroes are a myth, scavenger. What you are is necessary. That's what matters."
The words hung in the air, heavier than the Core in his lap. Zane wanted to argue, to yell, to demand a better explanation. But he couldn't. Deep down, he knew she was right. He hadn't been chosen because he was special. He'd been chosen because he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time—and now the Core was his burden to bear.
Still, the fear gnawed at him. The thought of losing himself to the Core, of becoming like the people Rhea had described, made his stomach churn. Could he really do this? Could he fight an enemy as powerful as the Echo without losing who he was?
He looked at Kade, who was watching him with an expression that was almost—almost—sympathetic. "Did you ever think about quitting?"
Kade shrugged. "Every day. Still do, sometimes. But like Rhea said, once you're in, there's no getting out. You either keep fighting, or you let the city burn."
Zane swallowed hard, his throat dry. "And you think I can do this? You really think I can… beat it?"
Kade's grin returned, lopsided but genuine. "Honestly? I have no idea. But I know this much—you're tougher than you look. And if anyone's got a shot at figuring out how to make that Core work, it's you."
Zane managed a weak smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but I'll take it."
Rhea stepped back, her expression softening just slightly. "Fear's not a bad thing, Zane. It's what keeps you alive. Just don't let it paralyze you. The Core might not care about you, but the people you're fighting for? They do."
The words settled in his chest, a strange mix of comfort and pressure. He wasn't sure he believed her—not completely. But for now, it was enough to get him back on his feet.
Zane stood, slipping the Cipher Core into his pocket. The faint hum of the monitors continued, joined by the distant sound of machinery in the rail yard outside. The countdown on the screen ticked lower, a reminder that the Echo was still out there, waiting.
"Alright," he said, his voice steady. "I'm in."
Kade clapped him on the back, a broad grin splitting his face. "That's the spirit."
Rhea nodded, her approval subtle but unmistakable. "Good. Now let's get to work."
The words were simple, but they carried a weight Zane couldn't ignore. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with danger and doubt. But for the first time, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—a spark of hope. It was faint and fragile, but it was there.
And as the Echo crept closer, he knew one thing for certain: there was no turning back now.