The notes from the silver flute didn't just hang in the air; they felt like they were weaving through the static in my brain. Each vibration of the hollow metal caused the "Gardener" drones—those small, luminescent spheres—to pulse with a rhythmic, crimson light. They drifted closer to the rig, their soft glow illuminating the "Hollow Man."
He was thin, almost skeletal, his suit a patchwork of pre-Collapse fabrics held together by copper wire and luck. His eyes were wide, milky white with cataracts, but he didn't need sight to find us. He was listening to the "Noise."
"Stop," Elara whispered, her hand tightening on my shoulder. "Leo, don't move. The drones... they aren't just lights. They’re micro-pollinators. If they touch you, they’ll try to 'resequence' your cells into the vault’s eco
