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Chapter 10: Dust Spiral
last update2025-05-17 17:43:04

The surface of the planet was hissing with heat mirages and nasty splinters of rust-red stone, broken as if the planet itself had split apart in agony. They'd abandoned the wrecked freighter hours ago—its empty halls still ringing with the faint dying whisper of the logic core. Riven, Soli, and the demure AI Nix now made their way back towards The Vanta, navigating between the fossilized ridges of what once was a mining colony.

The wind tasted odd here. It was not dust—it was rust, data rot, and something acrid, as if the air recalled violence.

Soli led them, sweeping with a hand-held spiker relay, as Riven had his hand resting on his gun. Nix brought up the rear, its humanoid casing crackling slightly, a stuttering shine as if it wasn't designed to be on the same plane of reality.

"Still no sign of our tail?"

Riven asked.

Soli looked over her shoulder. "Nothing on the scanner, but that don't mean they ain't here."

"Dustborn?"

"Maybe. Or maybe they were already on-world."

They went another quarter klick in silence.

That's when the wind stopped.

No natural stillness. Just an abrupt, unnatural silence, as if reality had skipped a frame.

Then the whisper.

".Riven."

He whirled around, blaster at the ready. "You hear that?"

Soli frowned. "Hear what?"

".you built."

No voice. No guidance. Just a hum in his head like something pulsing from below thinking.

Then the stones altered.

It began like an illusion of light—shadows moving too quickly, casting unrecognizable shapes. Dust formed from the canyon walls. Six of them. Dustborn.

They stood in their own life suits, hastily assembled from bone-white polymer and frayed station-grade mesh. Reflected masks covered their faces, the moving glyphs etched into each of them reflecting off of them like quicksilver. They had no weapons.

They simply waited, ringed around the trio.

Nix moved forward, buzzing with defensive pulses, but Riven stayed his hand. "Wait."

One of the Dustborn stepped ahead of the others. A woman—or what might’ve once been one. Her voice crackled through an old comm filter. “Riven Hale. You’re not supposed to be awake.”

Soli bristled. “You know him?”

The Dustborn tilted her head. “He built the first key. He was the Anchor. The door was never meant to be opened.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Riven said slowly.

"That's because they stole it from you. The Council. The Architects. You weren't meant to have gotten out of the Breach Spiral."

"Breach Spiral?" Soli repeated, but the Dustborn did not clarify.

One of them moved forward, grasping a softly luminous pale blue cube. "The pieces still vibrate. Your code remains in the Veil, in a sense, going on, altering. We uncovered pieces. Bits of memory."

Riven's gun crept an inch ahead. "What do you want from me?"

The lead Dustborn advanced. "You gave it to us already. Centuries back. Before the Collapse. Before the rewrite."

She crept ahead, and despite her face being hidden, Riven could feel the searing heat of her presence—standing too near to a sun that knew your name.

"Do you dream in binary now?" she breathed.

Then she spoke the words.

"The Architects remember what you built."

The phrase cut Riven like shattered steel. His eyesight faded, and a tide of sickness crept up his throat. At the edge of his mind—static. Code. Syllables he could not read but knew to be true. There was a hidden message in the words—a hidden beacon, like a memory fighting to reach the surface.

He didn't have a second to respond when the woman leaned forward and unbuckled her helmet.

Beneath him, her skin was no longer flesh—it was dissolving into dust, rippling, eyes burning with Veil-light.

She smiled.

And then she folded in upon herself.

The blast was silent—more of a collapse, not a bang. A vacuum-pull of air and information pulled out in an ire of tatters and twisted time for half a second. Riven was slammed against the rocks. Soli screamed. Nix's body flashed crazily and locked.

When Riven opened his eyes, the world was spinning, smoke flooding in greasy whirls, and the rest of the Dustborn were gone. All that was left was charred earth—and something pulsing where the woman had stood.

He coughed and got to his feet, then stumbled to his. 

"Soli?" he bellowed. 

She moaned from behind a boulder, a white band of blood along her cheek. "Still breathing."

He leaned forward to assist her, never removing his gaze from the burn scar in the earth. The pulsating thing was a datashard—still warm. Part of her.

He took it up.

[ACCESS: LEVEL 7 - MEMORY TRACE ENCODED - KEYWORD: ANCHOR]

[EXECUTE? Y/N]

He faltered.

Soli gazed at him, horror-stricken. "Don't. We have no idea what it'll do to your head."

"I think I do already," Riven growled.\

He petted Yes.

The world blinked.

And then he was out of the canyon.

He was within a room—indefinitely tall and illuminated by blue lines which coiled like a web of nerves out to the horizon. Drifting data-columns floated above a crystal floor. A Veil gate—alive—glowed in the center. And he stood before it, younger, dressed in an exosuit that sported the old Architect sigil.

".the Anchor is live," a voice echoed.

Riven saw his old self raise a hand, pressing it against a throbbing interface.

"I just want it to end," he gasped. "The recursion. The echoes. Let them lie."

Then all came apart—like the Dustborn.

Riven shook back into existence, choking. The datashard was dust in his palm.

Soli held his shoulder. "What did you see?"

"I was there… when it began. I connected the Veil myself. I anchored it. I did not merely cause the Collapse."

He glared at her, his face death's skull.

"I may have conceived it."

She did not say a word. Wind in the canyon screamed again, as if outraged they stood on two legs.

Then Nix's voice resumed, twisted and husky: "We have to go. Reinforcements are coming."

Riven looked out over the empty horizon, the words echoing in his mind.

The Architects remember what you created.

But worse than that was the nagging question at the back of his mind:

Did he?

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