The wind across the Scorch Ridge Basin was sharp and dry, like the breath of something old exhaling from beneath the earth.
Black sand crunched underfoot, and the air shimmered with residual heat. Ka'lenna had warned me: "The land here remembers fire. It does not forgive easily."
I didn't expect it to.
We were three days into the march—four warriors, two pack beasts, and one purpose. The vault's coordinates burned constant on my visor, pulsing like a beacon in my skull. Every kilometer brought us closer to something I couldn't quite name—an inheritance I never asked for, coded in flame and bone.
We reached it just after dusk.
Half-buried beneath a mountain's collapsed flank, the vault entrance jutted from the rock like a broken jaw. Massive obsidian doors stood sealed, scorched with a glyph I hadn't seen before—curved lines layered over a deep crimson spiral.
Ka'lenna studied it, face unreadable.
"What does it mean?" I asked.
She ran her fingers across the symbol.
"It means judgment."
I stepped forward and pressed my palm to the console embedded in the center.
It flared with heat. The same heat that lived inside my ash-mark. It recognized me.
CALIBRATION MARK CONFIRMEDWelcome, Candidate 0A–03: TAREKVault Access Granted
—OPENING THRONE OF CINDERS—
The doors shuddered, then slowly groaned open, revealing a tunnel lit by veins of red-gold plasma flowing through the walls like blood.
Inside, it was alive.
Unlike the last vault, this one hadn't been abandoned. It breathed with dormant purpose. Every step I took echoed with mechanical hums and old power stirring from its sleep.
A voice rang out as we entered the central chamber.
"Candidate recognized. Initiating Deep Protocol Access. Please proceed to Ascension Core for integration."
Ka'lenna's hand went to her blade. "What does that mean?"
I didn't answer.
I was already walking toward the glowing sphere at the center of the room—a raised platform surrounded by coils and conduits, with a high-backed throne carved from obsidian and lined with reactive alloy veins.
The moment I touched it, my vision exploded.
I fell into data.
A maelstrom of memories, blueprints, echoes—voices layered on top of each other, all fragments of the BABEL architects speaking at once.
"...planetary degradation is accelerating…""...genetic instability within leadership cohort 0A unacceptable…""...build successors not by birth, but by bond…""...integration required. Core resonance essential. Balance must be restored—"
My thoughts burned. My blood boiled. And then something clicked.
The throne wasn't just symbolic. It was a synchronization rig—meant to imprint planetary command authority into a single interface.
They'd built it to link one soul to the dying systems of a world.
To turn one person into the heart of a god-machine.
And I had just taken the first step.
When I came to, I was kneeling in front of the throne, chest heaving.
The ash-mark on my skin had spread—faint lines now webbed down my arms and over my spine like embered veins. My hands trembled, but not from weakness.
From power.
A new interface danced in the corner of my visor:
GENETIC INTEGRATION PROGRESS: 12%Partial access to planetary subsystems unlocked.Experimental Class: Prime Warden // Babellink Initiate
Ka'lenna approached, hesitant.
"You're… glowing."
I smiled weakly. "I think that's a good sign."
That night, as the others set up camp near the vault's outer rim, I remained in the chamber.
The throne had shown me glimpses of something more—a map of planetary nodes linked through a subterranean relay network, dormant biocores waiting to be awakened.
I wasn't the only one who could access them.
There were others marked—other candidates, maybe not even human anymore.
The BABEL system had contingency upon contingency.
And I had just tripped the one that would make the entire planet turn to look at me.
As I stared at the throne, I remembered Seela's voice.
"They said you sacrificed yourself."
I hadn't.
But now?
Now I would.
For something real.
Not for them.
For this world. For the ones who took me in. For the future I could rebuild with my own hands.
I would burn the past down to ash.
And from it, I'd build something divine.