The path Kael led was less a trail and more a scar in the ancient rock. It switchbacked violently up the cliffs, a vertical labyrinth carved by generations of the Aethelguard. The air grew thinner with altitude, but the electric hum intensified, vibrating beneath Elara’s skin like an anxious internal clock. The mist clung to them, blurring the line between the sky and the sea below.
"How many people live here?" Elara asked, needing to break the oppressive silence that Kael seemed perfectly comfortable with.
"Forty-two," he replied without looking back, his voice clipped.
"A small settlement."
"We prefer it that way. Keeps the mainland from noticing us too much."
"They noticed me," Elara pointed out.
"You're a necessity, not a resident." He stopped suddenly at a small plateau where the path widened into a defensive gate made of reinforced driftwood and metal. "We need a new assessment of the energy core's stability. Our instruments are failing. The corporation you work for—the ones footing the bill—they want data before they commit to... anything further."
"I'm a scientist, Kael, not a corporate spy," Elara said, adjusting her heavy pack. "My goal is to understand and map, not to exploit."
Kael finally turned, his gray eyes narrowing. "They always say that, Dr. Vance. They said it fifty years ago when the first drills arrived. They said it thirty years ago when the first generators were installed. They only stop saying it when the damage is done."
He gestured for her to follow him through the gate. They entered the settlement: a cluster of sturdy, dome-shaped homes built directly into the side of the cliff, mimicking the natural rock formations. Children played a quiet, intense game with polished stones; elders repaired fishing nets, their faces weathered by the salt and the constant mist. Everyone stopped to watch the newcomer. Elara felt a hundred eyes analyzing her, judging her purpose.
Kael led her to the central hub building—a large, communal mess hall and laboratory combined. Inside, the hum was a low thrum that rattled the cutlery on the tables. A large map of the island, crudely drawn on aged vellum, was tacked to the wall, covered in handwritten annotations about "dead zones" and "hot spots."
"This is your base of operations," Kael stated. "Your mapping equipment is linked to this console. You start in the outer sector tomorrow at dawn."
Elara set her data-slate down and activated it. Immediately, a clean, digital map overlaid the vellum one. "I can use my scanners to get a preliminary reading of the main source right now."
"No." Kael’s hand came down hard on the table. "You don't scan the core until you understand the risk. The core isn't just power, Elara. It's the heart of this place. And it bleeds memories."
"Memories?" Elara looked confused. "Energy residual? I’m here to measure joules and frequency, not emotions."
"Then you’re measuring the wrong thing," a new voice said.
Elara turned to see an older woman with silver hair pulled back tightly from a kind, but serious, face. She carried a tray of food.
"This is Maeve," Kael introduced gruffly. "She tends the core's history."
"Welcome, Dr. Vance," Maeve said warmly, setting the food down. "Kael is a bit rough around the edges, but he means well. He just doesn’t trust outsiders."
"Smart man," Kael muttered.
"The echoes are residual consciousness," Maeve explained, taking a seat. "When people live and die here, especially violently, their energy doesn't dissipate. It sinks into the ground and the core absorbs it, then releases it at random intervals. The stronger the emotion, the clearer the echo."
Elara stared at them both. "You’re talking about ghosts."
"We're talking about physics the mainland doesn't acknowledge," Kael retorted. "Your corporation wants to tap the energy without acknowledging the cost: ripping thousands of souls from their resting place to power a thousand coffee makers in the arcologies."
Elara processed this. Her advanced scientific instruments detected high levels of neuro-electrical signatures, which she had assumed were just anomalies caused by the raw energy field. Residual consciousness.
"Show me," Elara said, her skepticism warring with her scientific curiosity. "Show me an echo."
Kael looked at Maeve, a silent communication passing between them. He finally nodded. "Tomorrow. In the deep quarry. It's the strongest point outside the core perimeter."
That night, alone in her small, Spartan living quarters, Elara couldn't sleep. The hum of the island was louder than ever. She lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, listening not just to the hum, but to the faint, ethereal whispering that seemed to ride on top of it—like distant voices on a strong wind, speaking a language she couldn't quite decipher.
Elara sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding. The whispering stopped abruptly. The air felt cold.
She was starting to believe in ghosts. And her mission was to map the source of their endless night.
A sudden, sharp image flashed behind her eyelids: not a memory of her own, but a feeling of intense, crushing grief and the smell of burning wood
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