CHAPTER 12 — The Pulse Beneath the Iron Sky
1410 Words
The fog clung low that morning, folding the scrapyard district into a pale, shivering silence. Vael moved through it like a shadow with frayed edges, breath still uneven from the night before. The memory of the Chamber’s collapse—its splintering metal, its impossible hum—kept flickering behind his eyelids. He didn’t know if the tremor in his hands came from fear or the remnants of whatever force had touched him in that collapsing room.
The mark on his wrist pulsed again.
A slow, deliberate throb.
It wasn’t pain this time—more like a call.
He flexed his fingers sharply, annoyed at the reminder.
“Not now,” he muttered into the fog.
Above him, the iron sky bridges rumbled as morning caravans thundered across, shipping scrap-metal harvests toward the central furnaces. The whole city felt unsettled—workers whispering, patrols doubling, alarms occasionally spiking for no clear reason. Ever since last night’s underground shockwave, the upper wards had been twitching like wounded nerves.
Vael kept his hood low and pushed forward.
He wasn’t alone for long.
A pair of footsteps slipped into rhythm with his own.
“Still alive, I see,” Lyris murmured, emerging from the haze like a blade unsheathed.
Vael didn’t stop walking. “You sound disappointed.”
“Not disappointed,” she said lightly. “Surprised. The Chamber was built to erase intruders, not… imprint on them.”
Vael stiffened. “You think this thing marked me on purpose?”
Lyris gave him a sideways glance. “It didn’t mark you, Vael. It chose you.”
The mark flared hotter.
He clenched his jaw.
Lyris noticed the twitch. “See? It’s responding again.”
“Or malfunctioning.”
“Ancient artifacts don’t malfunction,” she said. “People do.”
Vael let out a slow breath, relying on sarcasm to hold himself together. “Thanks for the reassurance. Really soothing.”
They crossed a narrow suspension path lined with rust-shaken lanterns. Below them, the under-pits swirled in toxic wind currents, the howl of decomposing turbines rising like animals dying in cycles. The city never slept—just rotted, groaned, and kept moving out of habit.
At the far end of the bridge, Lyris stopped him with one hand.
Her grip was firm. Urgent.
“We need to talk before you meet them.”
“Them?” Vael echoed.
“The Resonant Circle.”
Vael blinked. “The cult you kept insisting doesn’t exist?”
“They’re not a cult.”
“Sure,” he said dryly. “Totally normal secret group with a cool name and zero members I’ve ever met.”
She didn’t rise to the bait this time. Instead, her expression darkened. “They saw the pulse from the Chamber last night. They believe you activated a Beacon.”
Vael felt the cold slide straight down his spine.
“Beacon for what?”
Lyris hesitated—a rare thing.
“For a survivor.”
The city noise seemed to hush for a moment, or maybe it was just the weight of those words.
Vael shook his head. “You told me—no one survived the Collapse.”
“I told you no one official survived.” Lyris stepped closer, voice low. “Records were erased. Witnesses silenced. But there were rumors—someone protected by an impossible barrier, someone who vanished before the machines reached them.”
“And you think… what… the Chamber thinks I’m that person?”
“No.” Her gaze locked onto his wrist. “I think the Chamber believes you’re connected to them. Whoever they were.”
Vael exhaled shakily. “Great. Another mystery tied to a disaster I don’t even remember.”
“Memory loss doesn’t mean lack of involvement.”
He bristled. “Are you accusing me?”
“I’m preparing you,” she corrected. “The Circle will test you. The Beacon mark is only the beginning.”
Before he could respond, a metallic chime rippled through the fog—three sharp notes descending in pitch. Lyris stiffened immediately.
“They found us,” she whispered.
Vael’s heart jolted. “The Circle?”
“No,” she breathed.
“Worse.”
A figure emerged from the haze ahead, armor threaded with humming cobalt lines. Behind him, two more. Drones floated above their shoulders, scanning the air with slicing beams.
Iron Wardens.
Vael cursed under his breath. “We’re still in the lower district—why are Wardens patrolling here?”
Lyris’ eyes narrowed. “They tracked the Beacon signal. They’re hunting you.”
The lead Warden raised a hand and the drones locked onto Vael’s direction.
“Subject located,” a voice echoed through the district speakers. “Surrender for containment.”
Lyris grabbed Vael’s arm. “Move!”
They sprinted.
The fog exploded with light as drones fired cutting beams past them, slicing deep grooves into bridge plating. Sparks rained down into the pits. Vael stumbled, catching himself on the rail.
Another blast hit behind him, heat tearing across his back.
Lyris shoved him forward. “Don’t stop!”
“I’m not—”
A beam cut across, forcing him to duck.
They navigated the narrow suspension maze, the Wardens advancing with inhuman precision. Vael’s lungs burned, but something else burned too—the mark on his wrist, glowing fiercely now, responding to each pulse of danger.
Suddenly, the bridge ahead split open as a Warden landed directly in front of them, metal boots cracking the planks.
Vael skidded to a halt.
The Warden’s visor glowed a cold white. “Noncompliance escalates your threat profile. Last warning.”
Lyris drew her twin blades. “Then escalate this.”
She lunged, metal clashing against reinforced armor. Sparks cascaded around her, motions fluid as water and vicious as a storm. Vael tried to circle around, but the Warden blocked his path with terrifying mechanical grace.
The mark burned deeper—too deep.
His vision blurred.
The air thickened, vibrating.
A low hum rose beneath his skin.
Not again.
Not here.
He grasped his wrist instinctively, teeth clenched as the hum built into a pressure threatening to burst open inside him.
“Vael!” Lyris shouted.
But her voice sounded far away.
The Warden aimed a stun lance at his chest.
The hum detonated.
A wave of force rippled outward from Vael’s body—silent yet heavy, bending the bridge beams. Fog tore backward. The Wardens staggered, their armor flickering.
The drones dropped instantly from the air.
The Warden nearest Vael collapsed onto one knee, visor glitching with fractured light.
“What—was—” Lyris whispered, too stunned to finish.
Vael stared at his own hands, horrified.
The mark on his wrist pulsed like a second heartbeat.
“I didn’t… mean to…” he choked.
Lyris grabbed him, pulling him away before the Wardens recovered. “We have to go. Now. The Circle needs to see this.”
Vael stumbled beside her, mind spiraling.
If that power had misfired…
If the bridge hadn’t held…
“What if I hurt someone?” he rasped.
Lyris didn’t slow. “You didn’t. It was controlled.”
“No, Lyris,” he said, voice cracking. “It wasn’t me controlling it.”
They turned sharply down a maintenance ramp, leaving the sparking Wardens behind. Machinery roared below—great chain lifts hauling broken engines toward the central furnace line.
As they approached the ramp’s end, Lyris finally spoke, breath uneven.
“Vael… the Chamber didn’t just choose you.” She looked at him with something between awe and fear. “It awakened something you were never supposed to remember.”
He swallowed hard. “And the Circle knows what that is?”
“They know pieces,” she said. “But only one person alive ever saw the full truth.”
“Who?”
Lyris took a steadying breath.
“Your sister.”
The world stopped moving.
Vael’s steps faltered. “My… what?”
“She disappeared the night of the Collapse,” Lyris whispered. “If she’s alive—if the Beacon is calling to her—then everything we thought we understood is about to change.”
Vael stared into the fog ahead.
Something trembled deep inside him—fear, hope, grief he never knew he carried.
The mark pulsed one final time.
Slow. Heavy.
As if answering a distant heartbeat.
And then—far across the district—
A faint echo pulsed back.
- Writer
