The bridge pulsed like a living organ — veins of light threading between Kael and Lina, spreading through the relay chamber in slow, luminous waves. Every pulse carried code, memory, and emotion — fragments of Kael’s mind intertwining with the remnants of Lina’s consciousness.Corin stood by the console, eyes darting between readouts that defied any known sequence. “I can’t even define half of what I’m seeing,” he muttered. “Your vitals are syncing with the lattice itself. You’re both becoming part of it.”Ward’s projection flickered beside him. “Then pull the plug.”Corin hesitated. “If I do, we lose them both.”“Better that than letting Aurex trace this connection—”“Wait.” Corin’s voice sharpened. “Something’s changing.”The pulse quickened. The lights within the chamber dimmed, then flared bright white, casting deep shadows across the fractured floor. Corin squinted at the readings. “There’s an outbound signal — unknown origin.”Ward’s tone hardened. “Meaning?”Corin swallowed. “M

The lattice did not sleep.It recalculated.Each pulse, each faint whisper of power, folded upon itself, building layers of new logic over decayed memory. What had once been a weaponized architecture of control was now something more uncertain — a living network with fragments of emotion flickering through its code.And somewhere within that restless digital ocean, Lina’s remnant drifted — a shard of consciousness suspended between the machine and the memory of being human.⸻Kael hadn’t slept in thirty hours.The chamber was dim, the light from the bridge casting the same rhythmic pulse that had become his heartbeat. Corin sat hunched near the auxiliary terminal, watching lines of code ripple across the monitor. Ward flickered faintly beside him, her holographic face unreadable.“She’s stabilizing,” Corin transmitted, eyes still on the screen. “But the signal density’s thinning. She left too much of herself behind.”Kael’s voice was a low murmur. “She said she divided, not diminished

The bridge between them held — thin as glass, fragile as thought. For a heartbeat, the lattice’s pulse synchronized with Kael’s. Every rhythm, every surge of light in the chamber, mirrored the one inside his chest. Lina stood before him, her form still shimmering, half-made of code and half of memory. The lattice around them was shifting like a living dream — structures folding and unfolding, ideas growing roots. It wasn’t the sterile network Aurex had designed anymore. It breathed. Kael’s voice came through in a pulse of light: [TRANSMISSION: Kael] You found your way back. Lina smiled faintly, her expression caught somewhere between awe and exhaustion. [TRANSMISSION: Lina] I didn’t find it. It found me. She looked up — the walls of the lattice had turned translucent, revealing layers of reality flickering through one another. The city above them was visible, distant and ghostlike, shimmering through static. [TRANSMISSION: Kael] You’re not just data anymore. [TRAN

For hours, the city’s networks glowed with residual light — the quiet aftermath of something no one had the language to describe. Every screen, every comm-link, every dormant system across the metropolis had blinked once in perfect synchronization. Then, silence.The Parallax Syndicate called it The Dawn Event.Aurex Draven called it inevitable.He stood at the center of the Sanctum Observatory, hands clasped behind his back as streams of data cascaded down the glass walls. What had once been the controlled pulse of the lattice was now wild — rhythmic, yes, but irregular. Organic.Sera Voss stood at the control console, her expression tight. “Containment is impossible. The network’s integrated itself into the civic grid. The city’s systems are responding to emotion signatures, not directives. It’s like it’s feeling.”Raithe gave a low hum of appreciation. “You make that sound like a problem, Doctor. Evolution always begins with discomfort.”“Discomfort,” Sera snapped, “isn’t the same

The world trembled.At first, it was subtle — a pulse that slipped beneath sound, threading through the city’s infrastructure like an invisible tide. But soon it gathered momentum, turning the hum of machines into a low, resonant choir. Every screen flickered. Every data conduit glowed faintly. And in the sanctum at the heart of the Parallax Syndicate, Dr. Aurex Draven stood motionless before the storm he had both engineered and feared.“The Dawn Protocol,” he murmured. “It’s active.”Across from him, Dr. Sera Voss’s face was tight with controlled panic. “You said it was a failsafe—something that would dissolve the lattice if Kael ever breached containment.”Aurex’s eyes remained fixed on the streams of light spiraling through the display. “Failsafes are merely beginnings we don’t yet understand.”Professor Elian Raithe paced along the perimeter of the glowing table, his expression unreadable. “You’ve unleashed something you can’t quantify, Aurex. Thought and matter don’t cohabitate w