Viren didn't speak.
He couldn't—his body wasn't ready for speech.
But inside his mind, entire languages were forming. Not just words or syntax, but conceptual languages—systems that blended logic, resonance, emotion, and geometry. Patterns that lived in sound, in color, in movement.
And somewhere deep inside, he knew:
Words were not enough for what he would one day need to say.
---
The cube Aurex had given him was different.
Not bound by safeguards.
Not tailored for children.
This one responded to everything: his focus, his heartbeat, the drift of his thoughts, even his breath. It was blank when first opened—an empty slate of folded dimensions, layered like an origami star.
But when he touched it—just lightly, with the edge of his mind—it began to take shape.
It didn't show simulations.
It didn't offer toys.
It reflected.
And what it reflected was him.
---
On the first day, it formed a mirror.
Not a physical one.
A metaphysical projection—outlining his internal pathways, showing how Devourflux had laced itself through his nervous system like molten wires. How Arcanoforge rested dormant beneath his lungs like a slow-cycling forge.
And something else.
Still unnamed.
Still quiet.
A third current—barely visible, yet vibrating beneath the others.
Not destructive. Not creative.
Observing.
Waiting.
He watched the mirror for hours, learning the shape of his own existence.
Not with arrogance.
But with fascination.
He wasn't just growing into power.
He was evolving into something new.
---
By the third day, the cube began forming questions.
Not prompts.
Questions.
Strange, for an artifact.
They didn't appear in words.
They appeared as choices.
One sequence of shapes might lead to growth.
Another to stillness.
A third to mutation.
It was learning from him—and it was making him choose.
Even though he didn't fully understand the implications, he could feel it: every path selected added weight. Added direction. Like throwing stones into the current of time.
He began to wonder:
Was this still just a cube?
Or was it part of something older?
A fragment of the force that had offered him the thread of fate in the void before his rebirth?
He didn't know.
But it felt alive.
And it was watching him too.
---
That evening, Nael returned.
Sneaking in again, no doubt having bypassed three layers of warding glyphs.
She was taller than before—or maybe just bolder. She wore a grin that never quite reached her eyes anymore.
"You're still quiet," she said, flopping down beside the cradle.
She held up two small orbs—one cracked, the other intact.
"I brought puzzle cores. Old ones. Thought you might like a challenge."
Viren blinked once.
Nael chuckled. "I'm gonna pretend that means thanks."
She passed them to him, one at a time.
Viren reached—not with hands, but with thought.
The cracked core hummed first. Threads unraveled. The internal lattice was exposed.
Then, Devourflux activated.
He absorbed the pattern, disassembled it within his mind, and isolated the flaw—an instability in the kinetic threading that caused power loops to overload.
He corrected it.
Not just repaired—improved.
The second orb—intact—he didn't absorb.
He modified it.
He fused a layer of sub-harmonic resonance across its core, allowing it to change shape depending on ambient mana fields.
Both glowed gently by the time he finished.
Nael whistled. "Okay. You're officially freaky."
She didn't say it with fear.
She said it with respect.
And something else.
Curiosity.
---
That night, Virelle arrived again.
But not alone.
This time, she brought someone.
A young man—older than Nael, barely into his teens. Red-eyed. Sharp-jawed. Dressed in ceremonial armor threaded with nullsteel and oath-glyphs.
He was a trainee of the Warden Ascendants.
And he looked at Viren like one might study a flame too close to dry parchment.
"A test?" he asked Virelle.
She nodded once. "But only a light one. Observe how he reacts to intention."
The boy took a step forward.
Power gathered subtly around him—not hostile, but definitely poised.
Viren felt it before it formed.
He didn't lash out.
He didn't defend.
He simply watched.
> [Passive Thread Alignment]
Intent Detected: Probative Aggression
Matching Response: Null Construct Echo – "Mirrorflame"
Constructing...
Light shimmered in the air beside Viren.
A floating glyph construct formed—barely the size of a fist. It pulsed once, stabilizing as a perfect reflection of the boy's rising aura.
And then—
It collapsed.
Not violently.
Efficiently.
Reducing his mana projection to ambient levels.
The boy gasped. Stepped back.
"That's not a defense," he whispered. "It's... a reset."
Virelle's smile was faint.
"Impressive."
Lysara entered then, calm but sharp-eyed.
"No more games, Virelle."
Virelle didn't argue.
But she didn't apologize either.
As she left, she looked back at Viren.
"He's learning faster than I predicted."
---
That night, Viren dreamt again.
The cube was in his dream—open, but no longer reflecting him.
Instead, it showed a horizon.
Dark.
Starless.
And at the edge of it stood three shapes.
The first—a burning man made of golden ash.
The second—a woman cloaked in thunder and ruin.
And the third—a child whose face Viren could not see.
But whose heartbeat mirrored his own.
They stood at the threshold of a fractured world.
And in the silence between the stars, something whispered:
> "All power is memory.
All memory is fire.
And you… are kindling yet unlit."
---
Viren woke with a slow breath.
He didn't cry.
Didn't stir.
Only watched the light from the ceiling crystal.
Waiting.
Processing.
Becoming.
And far beneath the estate, deep in the silent root chambers beneath House Virelin…
That third node?
It glowed.
Just once.
But it glowed.
---