The grove remained behind him, its silent trees watching as he left. The farther Aouli walked from their circle, the more he felt their weight lingering in his chest, like the imprint of a voice that hadn't stopped speaking even after the words were gone.
He and Elysia descended from the memory grove into lower jungle terrain, where thick mist hugged the ground and the canopy arched like a vaulted ceiling. The light here was dimmer, mottled, the filtered sun falling in fractured patterns over the soil. With each step, the rhythm of the forest shifted again—less precise than before, less artificial. It was growing unstable.
"The archive was incomplete," Aouli said, not breaking the quiet for the first time since emerging.
"No archive is ever complete," Elysia replied. "Especially one still evolving."
They walked in silence a while longer. Then, as they reached a broken stretch of old pathway—a crumbling road half-consumed by roots and moss—Aouli felt a sudden twist in the air, a friction of reality that was becoming familiar.
Someone else was here.
Elysia sensed it too. She slowed, then stopped entirely. Her glow dimmed, as if cloaking her presence. Aouli followed suit, instinctively masking his own light.
There was a figure crouched beside the carcass of a collapsed structure—a former observatory, by the look of it. Its domed roof had buckled under centuries of vineweight, and its exterior panels now hung open like broken ribs. The figure was half-inside the wreckage, pulling something out with quiet precision. Tools lay beside him—well-used, worn to the grip. A rifle hung loosely at his side.
Kaero.
Of course it was him.
He looked exactly the same as he had in the Crossroads—gritty, composed, and absolutely at home in a place that looked like it wanted to eat him.
Aouli stepped forward. "Are you following me?"
Kaero didn't startle. He looked up calmly, a grin already playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Not exactly," he said. "Let's just say we run in the same current these days."
He stood, holding a long rod of black metal, humming faintly with internal power. He flipped it once, then slid it into his satchel.
"This planet is shedding old skin," he said, nodding to the wreckage. "The good stuff's under the rot."
Aouli folded his arms. "You're scavenging."
"Scavenging," Kaero repeated. "Salvaging. Extracting value from collapse. Pick your word. I'm not the one who broke it."
"That's convenient," Aouli said, narrowing his eyes.
Kaero's grin faltered just a bit. "Careful. You're starting to sound like a zealot."
A low rumble echoed from deep underground—distant, but firm. The ground beneath them shivered slightly. Aouli's attention snapped to it.
"What was that?"
Kaero's expression sobered.
"Core disturbance," he said. "Chain-reaction buildup. The tech buried under this region? It's syncing out of phase. If the next regulator cluster collapses, the thermal pressure it's been redirecting could release through the crust."
Aouli stared at him. "That would… kill everything."
Kaero nodded. "Locally? Absolutely. Possibly even crack the biome open wide enough to render the equator uninhabitable. Fun times."
"Then why are you still here?"
Kaero shrugged. "Because someone else will be by soon to strip the wreckage clean. And because I thought I'd run into you. Which, hey—looks like I was right."
Aouli felt a knot forming in his core. "You knew this would happen?"
"I knew something would happen. Planets this far gone don't stabilize. They cycle faster, more violently. And the people left behind usually try something desperate."
He took a step closer, gaze suddenly sharp.
"And you're not going to stop them."
Aouli stiffened. "You don't know that."
"Yes," Kaero said, "I do. Because you're still thinking like someone who believes your presence is the gift that tips the scales. You're still feeling. Which is admirable. It's also what gets people killed."
"I'm not here to abandon them," Aouli said, heat rising in his tone.
"You're not here to save them, either," Kaero snapped. "Not unless you plan to take this world apart molecule by molecule and rebuild it from memory."
Another tremor shook the air. This time, closer.
Elysia finally spoke. "He must decide for himself, Kaero."
Kaero turned, surprised. "Didn't see you there. Hiding in the glimmer again?"
"I hide nothing," she said. "But not all things benefit from confrontation."
"Yeah? And how's that working out for Tellurin?"
He turned back to Aouli.
"Look," he said. "I get it. You're new. You feel responsible for every flickering leaf and wounded sky. But this world is not waiting to be saved. It's doing what worlds do when their caretakers fail—they collapse. Best thing you can do is watch, learn, and maybe—maybe—not repeat the same mistakes next time."
"And what are you doing?" Aouli asked.
"Surviving," Kaero said simply. "And collecting pieces of dead futures before they get buried."
He slung the satchel over his shoulder.
"I'll be nearby," he said. "When the ground starts splitting and the air turns to flame."
Then, with a wink, he turned and disappeared into the jungle, leaving only the faint impression of his footsteps and the quiet hum of the salvaged relic.
Aouli stood motionless.
Above, the clouds were beginning to spiral.