The sublevel chamber was dim, aglow with soft amber from containment fields and the pulsing heart of the Purpose Core. The air smelled faintly of ozone and sterilized metal. Elira stood alone within the inner chamber, eyes fixed on the floating core suspended in its magnetic cradle. It pulsed slowly—listless, like a heartbeat in hibernation.
Beyond the glass, through one of the transparent viewing windows, she could see Fenrir. Reclined in a diagnostic pod, his body bathed in light and laced with fine-threaded sync cords. The pattern matrix behind his containment display glowed red and gold—brilliant, chaotic, advancing.
And behind him, the dragon-like projection of the Scientist stood still as stone, luminous scales refracting data like a living prism.
"I'm not getting through," Elira muttered, still staring at the core. "It reacts, but only faintly. As if it doesn't trust me."
"That's because you still don't trust yourself," came the voice over the intercom—calm, cutting. The Scientist didn't look up from the display surrounding Fenrir.
"I've been trying," Elira said, her tone tight. "This chamber, the core, your tests. I'm doing what you asked. But don't you think I should know what the hell is happening outside while I'm locked down here? The blackout, the human vanishings—"
"Dray is managing it."
Her jaw tightened. "And if he fails?"
The dragon finally turned toward her, slow and deliberate. "Then you'll fail, too. Which is why your time is better spent here, instead of pretending your half-formed senses can affect planetary-scale threats."
Elira flinched slightly, but stood straighter. "You said awakening was about belief. Progress. That's what I'm doing."
"You're crawling," the Scientist replied. "While Fenrir—" his glowing eyes flicked toward the pod "—is surging."
A fresh diagnostic burst flared behind Fenrir's head, red streaks crawling up the pattern waveform.
Elira stepped back from the core field, eyes darting between the two of them. "What happens if he overtakes me?"
Silence.
She repeated the question louder. "What happens if Fenrir fully awakens before I do?"
The dragon's head tilted, almost like a sigh made into a motion. "He becomes what he was designed to be."
"And me?"
The response came slower. "If you are not his equal by then, you will become his first sacrifice."
Elira's breath caught. For a moment, she couldn't speak. The hum of the core filled the silence between them.
"I don't believe that," she said quietly, more to herself than to him. "He would never—"
"You believe in Fenrir. That is not the same as believing in yourself." The Scientist's voice dropped low. "You think the core is rejecting you? No. It's waiting. Just like I am. Waiting for you to decide who you are. Not what role you're supposed to play. Not what Dray wants. Not what Fenrir needs. But what you are."
She turned back to the Purpose Core, its glow dim and unbothered. "You stripped my original purpose," she whispered. "And told me to find another."
"Yes."
"Then tell me how."
"I already did," he said. "Get your shit together."
Behind her, the diagnostic display above Fenrir's pod let out a sharp tone—his pattern saturation now breaching another threshold. Another layer unlocked. Another wall falling away inside him.
Elira's hands curled into fists.
Time was running out.