The Line Beneath the Sand
The old watermill made a dull, irregular clattering sound whenever the desert wind remembered it existed. It was a thoroughly peculiar thing to find in the middle of an ocean of sunburned dunes: a crooked wooden structure with half-warped blades, a narrow stream trickling past its foundations and enough stubborn vegetation nearby to suggest that somewhere beneath the sand, water had refused to surrender completely. Nobody complained about the oddity. After yesterday's escape from Eidon, an inexplicable watermill was considerably less troubling than another army. The group had made camp around it almost immediately, claiming every scrap of shade they could find while their Aetherkin partners slept, ate or recovered from the exhausting series of evolutions and battles that had carried them through the desert. The stream was barely deep enough to soak one's feet in, but after days of sand it had been received with the enthusiasm normally reserved for miracles.
It was the following afternoon when Misaki found Shun sitting cross-legged beneath the mill's deepest patch of shade, his laptop balanced on his knees and his Resonance Linker connected to it by a short cable. Greenish light reflected from his glasses as lines of information scrolled steadily across the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard with the peculiar nervous energy of someone whose mind had already reached the end of a problem while his hands were still struggling through the middle.
"Hey, Shun."
He did not react immediately.
Misaki waited.
"Shun."
His head jerked upward.
"Oh. Misaki." He blinked twice. "Sorry. I was reviewing some of the records from the arena."
Misaki crouched beside him, resting her forearms across her knees. "That's actually what I wanted to ask you about."
Shun glanced sideways.
"Do you think you can contact Elder Kairo again?"
His fingers stopped.
That got his attention.
Elder Kairo had been the strange old man who had somehow known far more about their arrival in this world than anyone else they had encountered. He had contacted them only a handful of times, usually through their Resonance Linkers or whatever communication systems happened to be available, delivered several answers in a manner which generally produced twice as many questions, and then disappeared again before Shun could demand proper explanations.
Misaki had developed mixed feelings about him.
Shun had developed a list.
A very long list.
"There are things we need to ask him," Misaki continued. "About evolution. About Haruto. About Eidon. About what we're supposed to do next."
Shun adjusted his glasses.
"Contacting him might not be impossible."
Misaki's eyebrows rose.
"Seriously?"
"Possibly."
She waited.
Shun returned his attention to the laptop.
Misaki frowned.
"Would you like to explain the part between 'possibly' and actually doing it?"
Shun gave a quiet hum.
"I think I can use the black conduits."
"The what?"
He turned the laptop toward her.
A rough diagram filled the screen. It showed the ruined arena they had passed through earlier, several underground lines, a cluster of symbols and enough handwritten notes around the edges that Misaki suspected Shun could no longer distinguish between useful information and simply writing down everything he thought.
"After the Gravefang incident," he explained, "I went back to examine the arena."
Misaki's expression changed slightly at the name.
Gravefang.
Nobody liked talking about that.
Shun noticed but continued.
"I found several black cables running beneath the place where the corrupted creature had been standing. One was torn apart during the battle, so I followed it."
"And?"
"The other end terminated in a modular interface."
Misaki stared.
Shun sighed.
"A plug."
"Oh."
"The same basic architecture as several ports my laptop can use with an adapter."
Misaki looked again at the diagram.
"So Eidon connected those creatures to some sort of computer network?"
"Not exactly a computer network. At least, I don't think that's all it is."
His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard and brought up several captured readings.
"The conduits carry energy, but they also carry structured resonance signals. Commands. Location information. Possibly surveillance. Maybe even temporary enhancement."
Misaki's face tightened.
"So the corrupted creatures are being controlled."
"Some of them probably are. Others might only be monitored or influenced." Shun paused. "I don't have enough information yet."
He turned and pointed beyond the shade of the mill.
An old stone well stood several dozen metres away, its circular mouth rising from the sand like the remains of something buried long ago.
"I found another conduit running through there this morning."
Misaki looked from the well back to Shun.
"You think they're connected."
"I think Eidon has built a communication web underneath a large part of this region. Possibly the entire continent."
For a moment Misaki said nothing.
The wind pushed weakly at the watermill.
One warped blade moved.
Creeeak.
Then stopped.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Shun looked down at his laptop.
His expression changed.
"I wasn't sure."
"Shun."
"I wasn't."
She waited.
Eventually he sighed.
"After what happened with Haruto, I didn't want everyone expecting me to understand something I didn't."
Misaki's irritation disappeared.
Shun stared at the screen.
"If I'd announced that I found a hidden network, everyone would've expected me to use it. And if Eidon detected us while I was inside..." He hesitated. "Those corrupted creatures didn't get that way naturally. If the network can manipulate resonance deeply enough, I don't know what it could do to us. Or our partners."
The wind shifted through the old beams overhead.
Misaki remembered the arena.
She remembered the empty eyes of corrupted Aetherkin and the way their bodies moved with purpose but without anything recognizable behind those movements.
She understood why Shun had hesitated.
That did not make their current situation any better.
"Can you get inside without being detected?"
Shun rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Maybe."
Misaki waited again.
He seemed to realize she was not going to accept that as a complete answer.
"Eidon's servants must access the system somehow. Every network needs trusted users. If I imitate one of their signal patterns, the system might treat my laptop as an approved terminal."
"And if it doesn't?"
"We find out how good its security is."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't intended to be."
Shun brought up another screen.
"If there's a password or some form of active resonance authentication I can't duplicate, I'll disconnect immediately. The only reason I think this might work is because nobody seems to expect an outsider to use the network."
Misaki's mouth twitched.
"So the plan depends on Eidon being arrogant."
Shun considered it.
"Essentially."
"That actually makes me feel better."
Shun almost smiled.
Then he began explaining.
Misaki regretted encouraging him approximately twenty seconds later.
Words such as signal masking, relay architecture, access logs, routing tables and authentication handshakes began pouring out of Shun with increasing enthusiasm. Misaki understood perhaps one sentence in five. After another minute, she understood one word in ten. By the time he reached something involving rerouting traffic through a false terminal identity, she was fairly certain he had begun speaking some ancient formation language known only to scholars, machines and people who had forgotten what ordinary conversation sounded like.
She let him finish anyway.
Because underneath all the caution and complicated terminology, she noticed something she had not seen in Shun for a while.
Hope.
Small and uncertain, perhaps, but real.
He believed this could work.
At the moment, that was enough.
"Try it, Shun-kun."
His fingers stopped.
He looked at her.
Misaki folded her arms.
"I'll take responsibility."
His eyes widened.
"Misaki—"
"I'm not saying it's safe."
"That isn't particularly reassuring."
"I learned from Caelan."
Shun actually laughed.
Misaki's expression softened.
"We can't just keep wandering until Eidon finds us again. Yesterday we only survived because Luminel appeared. We need information."
She glanced toward the rest of the camp.
Haruto sat near the stream with his knees pulled up, staring into the water. His partner remained close but did not disturb him. Renji was pretending not to watch from farther away. Daichi had wrapped one wrist after the previous day's fighting. Yuto and Airi were talking quietly near the mill, both considerably less energetic than usual.
Everyone was tired.
Everyone was frightened.
They were merely expressing it differently.
"We can't keep doing this forever," Misaki said.
Shun slowly closed the laptop.
For several seconds he simply sat there.
Then he nodded.
"Very well."
Misaki smiled faintly.
"But," Shun added, "don't expect Kairo to answer. I'm becoming accustomed to failing to contact him."
"Then we'll be disappointed together."
"That's a terrible motivational speech."
"It worked."
A short while later, Shun lowered himself into the dry well.
It was much cooler beneath the surface. The old stone walls blocked the worst of the desert heat, surrounding him in a narrow cylinder of shadow while the opening high above showed a painfully bright circle of sky. Misaki remained near the top, occasionally leaning over far enough for her face to appear against the sunlight.
Shun crouched beside the black conduit.
Up close, it looked less like an ordinary cable and more like something halfway between technology and a living vein. Its surface was smooth and dark, but faint pulses travelled beneath it at regular intervals.
He connected the adapter.
His laptop chimed.
The Resonance Linker beside it flickered.
Shun took a breath.
Then began typing.
Click. Click-click. Click.
Commands moved across the screen.
The conduit responded.
A signal handshake appeared.
Accepted.
Shun froze.
"No authentication request?"
Nothing.
He stared.
Then carefully proceeded.
The connection opened.
Information flooded the screen.
Shun's breath caught.
The network was enormous.
Relay points extended throughout the desert, then outward far beyond it. Some were clearly attached to settlements. Others followed underground routes. Several connected to mobile signals that were almost certainly creatures or vehicles. Whatever Eidon had created—or taken control of—was not merely a handful of cables beneath an arena.
It was an empire's nervous system.
Shun opened another layer.
Then frowned.
There was security.
A great deal of it.
Locked partitions.
Authorization systems.
Counter-intrusion programs.
Encrypted routes.
Enough protection that Shun would ordinarily have disconnected immediately.
Except most of it was inactive.
The walls existed.
Nobody was guarding them.
It reminded Shun of a fortress whose gates had been left open because its owner could not imagine anyone being foolish enough to approach.
Why?
Arrogance?
A trap?
Something else?
He did not intend to remain connected long enough to discover which.
Shun began moving quickly.
He spoofed the terminal identification, redirected his traffic through several existing nodes and altered the access logs behind him. It was not perfect, but when he was finished the system would have considerable difficulty proving that anyone unfamiliar had ever connected.
He was preparing to disconnect when the laptop chimed.
PING.
Shun stopped.
A new message had appeared.
Sender:
AXIOM — FOUNDRY SETTLEMENT
Shun stared.
Axiom.
The mechanical Aetherkin they had encountered much earlier in their journey—the one they had freed after discovering a corruption device controlling his body. Axiom had helped them escape the industrial settlement afterward and had promised to continue monitoring communications in the region.
Shun opened the message.
I've informed Elder Kairo.
Eidon's network interference prevented him from reaching your Linkers directly. Your intrusion disrupted several relay functions long enough to open a channel. He should be able to contact you now.
Shun read it twice.
Then three times.
He had done it.
Or at least accidentally done enough.
Relief moved through him so suddenly that he had to lean back against the stone wall.
After days of questions, uncertainty and running from enemies who always seemed to know where they were going before the children did, they finally had a connection to someone who might possess answers.
Above him, Misaki's head appeared over the edge.
"Shun?"
He looked upward.
"Anything?"
Shun smiled.
"We've got a message."
Misaki disappeared.
"What does it say?"
"He can contact us!"
There was a brief silence.
Then Misaki's voice returned considerably louder.
"WHY ARE YOU STILL DOWN THERE?"
Shun blinked.
"Good point."
By the time he climbed out, Yuto was already running toward them.
"Shun! Misaki!"
He nearly slipped on the dry grass beside the stream.
"Kairo's here!"
Shun's eyes widened.
"Already?"
"Come on!"
They followed.
Shun carried his laptop under one arm, thoughts moving considerably faster than his feet. One sentence from Axiom continued bothering him.
Your intrusion disrupted several relay functions.
He had not deliberately disrupted anything.
At least, he didn't think he had.
Perhaps masquerading as one of Eidon's terminals had forced the system to reroute something. Perhaps an old protocol had conflicted with his laptop. Perhaps—
He nearly walked into Misaki.
"Stop thinking while walking."
"I can do both."
"You just proved otherwise."
Behind the watermill stood an enormous cactus whose shadow had become one of the camp's favourite gathering places. Everyone had assembled beneath it.
A pale blue projection hovered above the sand.
Elder Kairo.
He appeared exactly as Shun remembered him: an elderly man in simple robes, hands folded behind his back, wearing the faintly amused expression of someone who knew considerably more than he intended to explain.
Haruto stood directly in front of him.
His voice cracked across the camp.
"Why?"
Shun slowed.
He had clearly arrived halfway through something important.
Kairo regarded Haruto calmly.
"So your partner evolved."
Haruto's fists tightened.
"That's not what was supposed to happen."
"No," Kairo agreed. "It wasn't."
Haruto flinched.
Kairo's expression remained gentle.
"There are many paths of evolution. More than you currently understand. A different form does not automatically mean a wrong one."
Haruto looked up.
"Gravefang was wrong."
"Gravefang was uncontrolled."
The distinction made Haruto pause.
Kairo continued.
"Your partner's evolution reflects more than accumulated strength. Your bond matters. Circumstances matter. Emotion matters. Intent matters. And you..."
His voice softened.
"...are still inexperienced."
Haruto looked as though the word physically struck him.
"Inexperienced."
"Yes."
Haruto swallowed.
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
The question came out smaller than he intended.
"What do I have to change?"
Kairo smiled faintly.
"Grow."
Haruto's expression immediately became frustrated.
"How?"
"I'll send someone who can help you."
Everyone straightened.
Airi leaned forward.
"A trainer?"
"Something like that."
Kairo nodded.
"His name is—"
The projection flickered.
Shun's heart sank.
"No."
Static tore across the image.
"Kairo?"
The old man's voice distorted.
".…."
The picture jumped.
"...listen carefully to what he sa—"
"Kairo!"
The projection collapsed into a shower of pale fragments.
Then nothing remained.
Shun stared at the empty air.
His shoulders dropped.
"No."
Airi looked at him.
"You okay?"
"I had fourteen questions."
Renji raised an eyebrow.
"Only fourteen?"
"Fourteen urgent questions."
"Ah."
Airi looked toward Flora.
"So he really is sending us someone."
Flora nodded thoughtfully.
"That's what he said."
"A trainer could be useful."
Daichi folded his arms.
"A bodyguard would be more useful."
Nobody disagreed with that.
Haruto remained quiet.
His partner sat beside him.
The others gradually began discussing Kairo's message—what he meant by evolution paths, who the trainer might be and whether they should remain near the watermill long enough for whoever was coming to find them.
Above them, sitting on one of the mill's broad wooden beams, Caelan listened without joining the conversation.
Sparky sat beside him, tail curled around his paws.
Caelan had deliberately stayed out of the discussion.
These children had history with Kairo.
He didn't.
They had been travelling together long before he appeared in the desert. Their partners, their Linkers, their evolution problems and whatever relationship they had with the mysterious old man belonged to a part of their journey Caelan had never experienced.
So he listened.
Nothing more.
The sun had disappeared below the dunes while Kairo spoke, leaving the desert beneath a clear night sky. Without the daylight, the world seemed completely different. The sand turned silver beneath the stars, the windmill became a dark crooked silhouette and the little stream reflected thin ribbons of moonlight.
Sparky looked upward.
"It's beautiful."
Caelan followed his gaze.
"Yeah."
For a while neither spoke.
The others' voices drifted upward from below.
Then Sparky looked at him.
"You're thinking about home."
Caelan's expression changed slightly.
"What makes you say that?"
"You've been staring at the same star for five minutes."
Caelan looked away from it.
"Maybe I like that star."
"Do you?"
"No."
Sparky waited.
Caelan sighed.
"Yeah. I'm thinking about home."
He leaned backward against the old wood.
He had only been gone a short time.
It felt longer.
His palace came first to mind—not because of its enormous halls, its training grounds or the formations woven into practically every stone, but because of Han Shuren. The old head butler had served Caelan's family for longer than Caelan had been alive and had long ago passed the point where the word servant meant anything useful. Han Shuren was the person who knew whether Caelan had eaten without asking, who could tell from the way he entered a room whether training had gone badly and who possessed the extraordinary courage required to tell Caelan Ardyn to stop being an idiot when everyone else was too polite.
Family, in every way that mattered.
Then Caelan thought of a much smaller place.
A modest restaurant he continued visiting despite having an entire palace kitchen available to him.
Lin Rue would probably laugh at him for somehow getting lost in another universe. Then she would hit him over the head for worrying everyone. Then she would put food in front of him before allowing him to explain anything.
She had treated him like a troublesome younger brother for as long as he could remember.
Caelan smiled faintly.
He missed that.
He thought of Chen Hao, his old Mortal Realm class teacher. Spirit Transformation Realm, like every proper teacher within the Heavenly Flame Sect, and far too willing to turn lessons into lectures whenever Caelan did something reckless. Chen Hao had never quite behaved like an ordinary teacher around him. Somewhere between classes, training and years of arguments, he had become another older brother Caelan had never officially asked for.
And then there was the Sect Head.
His father's former rival.
A man powerful enough that entire regions listened when he spoke, yet somehow always found time when Caelan genuinely needed him. He had helped him train, advised him, argued with him and stood by him through things most people preferred not to discuss.
Caelan had grown up without his parents.
That had never meant he had grown up without people who cared whether he came home.
That thought hurt more than he expected.
What were they doing now?
Han Shuren would have realized something was wrong almost immediately.
The Sect Head would be furious.
Chen Hao would probably be involved in the search whether anyone asked him to be or not.
Lin Rue...
Caelan could already imagine her expression.
Sparky nudged his leg.
"You miss them."
Caelan looked down.
"Yeah."
"Do you think you'll get back?"
Caelan looked across the moonlit desert.
He still had no idea what universe this was.
No idea why its creatures could somehow be recreations of beings from elsewhere.
No idea who had managed to move him beyond the Heavenly Flame Sect's formations.
And no idea what sort of laws governed this place.
But uncertainty was not the same thing as impossibility.
"Of course."
Sparky's ears lifted.
Caelan smiled slightly.
"I just need to figure out where 'back' is from here."
Below them, Airi began arguing with Renji about whether Kairo's mysterious trainer would be handsome.
Renji loudly asked why that mattered.
Airi loudly informed him that everything mattered.
Caelan glanced down.
Then back toward the stars.
Home felt impossibly far away.
But for the first time since arriving in this strange universe, he had begun to understand that being far from home and being alone were not quite the same thing.