Morning didn't arrive.
It was assigned.
A dull, mechanical chime echoed through the building—soft enough to be ignored once, precise enough to become unbearable by the third repetition. It seeped through walls, through sleep, through thought itself, until it became less of a sound and more of a condition.
Wakefulness was not a choice here.
It was compliance.
Aster opened his eyes before the third chime.
He didn't move.
For a few seconds, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling above him. The cracks were still there—thin, branching lines spreading across the surface like veins frozen in place. He had traced them so many times with his eyes that they felt almost deliberate now, like a pattern someone had designed rather than decay that had simply… happened.
The fourth chime rang.
Aster exhaled slowly, dragging a hand across his face.
"Alright," he muttered, voice rough. "I'm up."
The room was small, but it held everything it needed to. A narrow bed. A metal table. A flickering terminal mounted into the wall that hadn't displayed anything useful in months. A window that opened just enough to let in air, but never enough to forget where you were.
Efficiency.
That was the word they used.
From the other side of the wall came the quiet rhythm of movement—utensils against metal, the low hiss of heat, the kind of sounds that didn't demand attention but anchored the space nonetheless.
His mother.
Already awake.
Of course.
Aster pushed himself up and stepped out into the main room, rolling his shoulders slightly as if trying to shake the weight of sleep from his body.
The smell reached him first.
Simple food.
Warm.
Familiar.
She stood by the stove, her back turned, sleeves rolled just below her elbows. The faint marks along her arms caught the light—not fresh, not raw, just remnants of something that had long since passed but never quite disappeared.
Work left traces.
Some visible.
Some not.
"You're late," she said without turning.
"I'm early," Aster replied, leaning lightly against the doorway.
A quiet scoff escaped her.
"That's what you said yesterday."
"And I was right yesterday too."
She turned slightly this time, just enough to glance at him over her shoulder. There was no real annoyance in her expression.
Just familiarity.
"Sit," she said, placing a plate on the table. "You've got a shift."
Aster walked over, dropping into the chair with a soft exhale. He pulled the plate closer and stared at it for a moment before picking up the utensil.
"Yeah," he said. "I heard."
They ate in silence for a while.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… routine.
"You shouldn't be on that site," she said eventually.
Aster didn't look up.
"Everyone's on that site."
"That doesn't make it safe."
"Nothing is."
The words slipped out sharper than he intended.
He paused.
So did she.
Aster rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small breath.
"…sorry."
She shook her head slightly, turning back to the stove.
"You don't have to apologize for telling the truth."
That somehow made it worse.
"They opened a new layer," she added after a moment.
Aster's hand stopped mid-motion.
"What?"
"Deeper than the last one."
"They didn't announce that."
"They don't announce things like that."
He leaned back slightly, frowning.
"How deep?"
She hesitated.
That was enough to tell him.
"Deep enough," she said quietly.
Aster let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Great. So same pay, more risk."
She didn't respond.
Because there wasn't anything to say.
He pushed the plate away once he was done, standing up and stretching slightly.
"I'll be fine," he said, more for her than for himself.
She turned fully this time, studying him.
"You always say that."
"And I'm still here."
"That's not the same thing."
Aster met her gaze for a second.
There was something in it.
Something heavy.
Unspoken.
"I'll come back," he said, quieter now.
She nodded.
Not because she was convinced.
Because she wanted to be.
"Don't be reckless," she said.
Aster smirked faintly.
"When have I ever been reckless?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"…don't answer that," he added quickly, grabbing his jacket.
He stepped toward the door, pausing just before opening it.
"For what it's worth," he said, glancing back, "your food's still better than anything in the city."
A small smile touched her lips.
"Then don't go to the city."
Aster huffed.
"Yeah. I'll just tell Bluegem I quit. I'm sure they'll understand."
He stepped out before she could respond.
The air outside was cooler.
Not clean—but real.
The settlement was already awake. Workers moved along the narrow pathways between buildings, some in groups, others alone, all heading in the same direction.
Toward the site.
Aster fell into step with the flow, hands in his pockets, gaze drifting occasionally toward the horizon.
The city was still visible from here.
Always was.
Even in daylight, it glowed.
Not as brightly.
But enough.
He stared at it for a moment.
Then looked away.
"Still thinking about running off there?"
The voice came from his side.
Aster glanced over to see a familiar figure catching up.
Riven.
Same age. Same routine. Same exhaustion—just worn differently.
"Depends," Aster said. "They giving out free lives now?"
Riven snorted.
"Yeah. Right next to the free Ather."
They walked in silence for a few steps.
"You hear about the new layer?" Riven asked.
"Yeah."
"People are saying it's unstable."
"People always say that."
"Yeah, but this time they're saying it quietly."
That made Aster glance at him.
Riven shrugged.
"You know how it is. Loud rumors are nothing. Quiet ones… those stick."
Aster didn't respond.
But he didn't dismiss it either.
The site came into view soon after.
Massive.
Open.
Carved into the earth like something had taken a piece of the world and simply… removed it.
Machinery lined the edges—cranes, platforms, descent rigs. Lights hung overhead in rigid formations, illuminating everything in harsh clarity.
Everything except the bottom.
Because the bottom wasn't meant to be seen.
Aster stepped onto the platform, grabbing a helmet from the rack and securing it in place.
The hum of machinery filled the air, constant and low, like a heartbeat buried beneath layers of steel.
"Let'sget this over with," Riven muttered.
Aster stepped onto the descent lift with him.
The platform jolted once.
Then began to lower.
The light above them stretched.
Then thinned.
Then faded.
Artificial lamps flickered on as they descended deeper, casting long shadows along the rough walls.
The air changed.
Heavier.
Denser.
Aster shifted slightly.
Something felt… off.
"You feel that?" he asked.
Riven frowned.
"Feel what?"
Aster hesitated.
"…nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
The deeper they went, the stronger it became.
Not a sound.
Not a vibration.
A presence.
The platform stopped.
"Alright, move!" a supervisor barked as the gates opened.
Workers stepped out, spreading across the newly opened excavation zone.
Aster followed—
then stopped.
The Ather deposits were visible here.
Embedded in the rock.
Glowing faintly.
But not steady.
They flickered.
"…that's new," Riven muttered.
Aster stepped closer.
The glow shifted slightly.
Then—
just for a second—
it bent.
Toward him.
He froze.
"Aster?" Riven called.
The light snapped back.
"…yeah," Aster said slowly.
But his eyes didn't leave the crystal.
Because for a moment—
just a moment—
it had felt like something had looked back.