**
---
The journey to the heart of the pulse felt like an eternity before Sora even set foot on the path. The ship had shifted course, its course now directed by the rhythm of the pulse, which surged through its core like a living heartbeat. Every turn, every flicker of light on the ship's walls, resonated with the deep pulse that had chosen Sora. The air inside the vessel hummed with energy, a constant reminder of the power he carried—though whether it was power or burden was something he could no longer discern.
The Echoes were coming. He could feel them in the very air, a distortion in the fabric of the universe itself. The captain, though ever-present in its form, had been eerily quiet ever since their last conversation. Sora couldn't shake the feeling that the ship's presence had become distant, as if it, too, was reluctant to face what lay ahead.
He walked alone in the corridors of the ship, the steady hum of the engines beneath him a constant reminder of the vast distance between him and the heart of the pulse. It was in a place so deep that even the stars themselves seemed dim in comparison, a hidden nexus of energy that had shaped everything—time, life, the universe itself.
What was the pulse, really? And what role was he meant to play in all of this? The answers remained as elusive as ever.
As Sora approached the central command deck, the pulse inside him shifted again, vibrating with an intensity he had never felt before. The rhythm was quickening, as though something—or someone—was drawing near. The ship's automated systems blinked red, warning lights flashing across the walls. The creatures that powered the ship had stopped their rhythmic hum, their forms frozen in place. It was a silence so deep, it felt as though time itself had stopped.
"Sora," a voice echoed through the command deck, a soft whisper that seemed to come from every direction at once. It was the captain again, but this time it sounded different—distant, uncertain. "They are coming."
Sora's heart skipped a beat. He had known this moment would come, but hearing it spoken out loud, in such finality, made it all the more real. The Echoes were drawing closer. And now, more than ever, he had to know what they wanted with the pulse.
Without waiting for further instructions, he reached for the central console, tapping into the ship's systems. It was time to prepare, but as his fingers grazed the interface, the console flickered, displaying a cryptic message:
*"The Heart of the Pulse is not a place. It is a choice."*
Sora stared at the message, feeling a strange sense of deja vu wash over him. *A choice?* What did it mean? Was the heart of the pulse something he could reach, or was it something he had to awaken within himself?
As he pondered the cryptic message, the ship lurched. A violent tremor ran through its hull, throwing him off balance. The ship's hum rose to a crescendo, then abruptly fell silent. Panic flared in his chest as he gripped the nearest rail to steady himself.
The captain's voice filled the command deck once more, but this time it was urgent, almost frantic. "They are here. The Echoes have found us."
The walls of the ship trembled as a massive energy signature flared from within the heart of the pulse. It was drawing them in, like moths to a flame. Sora could feel the pull, a magnetic force, pulling him toward it, urging him to move forward, to face what was coming.
For a long moment, Sora hesitated. He had no idea what lay ahead, but every instinct in his body told him that he had no other choice. The Echoes were on their way, and if they reached the heart of the pulse before him, everything would be lost. The universe itself would unravel.
Steeling himself, he turned toward the ship's core. As he moved through the winding corridors, the ship seemed to grow darker, the lights flickering in and out. It was as though the vessel itself was aware of the impending arrival of the Echoes, and it was struggling to hold itself together.
Finally, he reached the heart of the pulse. The room before him was unlike anything he had ever seen. The air crackled with energy, the very walls shimmering with a strange, ethereal glow. At the center of the room was a vast, swirling mass of energy—an orb, but not one made of light or matter. It was something else, something that transcended both. The pulse was alive, its energy pulsating in rhythmic waves, casting strange shadows on the walls.
Sora took a tentative step forward, feeling the weight of its presence pressing in on him. The pulse called to him, urging him to approach. As he drew closer, he could feel the energy inside him responding in kind. The rhythm of the pulse inside him grew louder, its beats aligning with the pulsing energy in front of him.
Suddenly, the walls of the room seemed to ripple, and Sora heard a sound—low, guttural, like the opening of a door into a different reality. The Echoes had arrived.
From the shadows, they emerged—figures made of darkness and starlight, their forms flickering like fading memories. They were the architects, the creators, the forgotten beings who had once shaped the very fabric of existence. And now, they had come for what they had lost.
The largest of them stepped forward, its voice deep and resonant, echoing through the very air. "Sora, heir of the pulse, you have done well to reach this place. But you must understand—this is not your fight. You are a pawn in a game far older than you can comprehend."
Sora's pulse quickened in response, but he stood his ground, meeting the figure's gaze. He had come this far—he could not turn back now.
The Echoes continued, their voices intertwining like a choir of the dead. "The pulse is ours to command. We are its true heirs. You are nothing more than an illusion, a temporary vessel."
Sora clenched his fists, feeling the pulse surge within him. "I'm not here to be your pawn," he said, his voice steady but filled with determination. "I am the heir. And I will not let you take control of it."
The room seemed to darken, the energy of the pulse swirling around them, but Sora held his ground. He could feel it now—the choice he had been given. The pulse was not just a force of creation or destruction—it was a choice. And he was the one who would decide what came next.
The Echoes moved forward, their hands raised as if to claim the pulse for themselves. But Sora stood firm, his pulse resonating louder than ever, a force of will stronger than any cosmic power.
The heart of the pulse was his, and he would protect it with everything he had.
---
**
..........................
"Don't miss the chance to get advanced chapters of my novel for FREE! Just copy the link now and start reading!"
https://shorturl.at/3DZhG