Blood and Sparks: The Edge of Power
Chapter 26: The Threads Pull

Chapter 26: The Threads Pull

The shimmer ahead wasn’t light—not the harsh green of the Heart or the stuttering blue of Liv’s sparks. It was softer, a fracture in the dark, like a crack in blackened glass catching the edge of something unseen. My boots scraped against the stone, each step a grind of worn soles on cold, unyielding rock, the sound echoing faintly, swallowed by the Hollow’s endless maw. Liv’s hand clung to mine, her grip slick with sweat and blood, her fingers trembling but firm, a lifeline in the void. My rifle hung heavy at my side, its barrel still warm, the last of its charge a fading pulse against my thigh. My system stayed quiet—too quiet—its silence a weight of its own, pressing against the hollow ache in my chest where my strength used to live.

We moved toward the shimmer, step by aching step, the air thickening with every yard. It wasn’t just damp anymore—it carried a tang, sharp and metallic, like rusted iron mixed with something alive, something that breathed. The thread in my mind tugged harder, a faint vibration under my skull, guiding us through the black. It wasn’t the Gate’s pull, that cold, mechanical yank I’d felt before. This was warmer, older, like a memory I couldn’t place, coiled deep in my bones. I didn’t trust it, but I didn’t have a choice. The Hollow wasn’t giving us one.

Liv’s breath rasped beside me, shallow and uneven. Her free hand hovered near her chest, sparks flickering weakly at her fingertips, their light barely enough to cast shadows on the stone. The cut above her eye had crusted over, a dark smear against her pale skin, but fresh blood welled where her nails had dug into her palm, her knuckles white with strain. She caught me looking and forced a grin, crooked and tired.

"Don’t get soft on me now, Kai," she muttered, her voice rough as gravel. "I’m not dead yet."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," I said, matching her tone, though my throat felt like sandpaper. I tightened my grip on her hand, feeling the faint jolt of her energy against my skin—weak, but there. She was still fighting, still with me. That was enough.

The shimmer grew, resolving into a jagged tear in the air, edges glowing with a dull, amber hue, like embers buried in ash. Beyond it, the dark didn’t lift—it deepened, but the thread pulled us forward, insistent, promising something. A way out, maybe. Or a deeper trap, like I’d told myself. Either way, we were out of options. The Heart’s hum lingered in my ears, a faint echo, its promise—"You will return"—a shadow I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t dead. It was waiting, patient as stone, certain we’d break.

I stopped at the tear, peering through. The other side wasn’t a tunnel or a chamber—it was a cavern, vast and uneven, its walls glistening with veins of some crystalline substance, pulsing faintly, red and gold, like blood under skin. The air there was warmer, thicker, carrying a hum that wasn’t the Heart’s—a different rhythm, slower, deeper. Shapes moved in the distance, too far to make out, but their silhouettes were wrong—too long, too fluid, like the Watcher’s limbs stretched into something new.

"Looks inviting," Liv said, her sarcasm thin but sharp. She leaned closer, her sparks flaring briefly, illuminating the tear’s edges. "You sure about this?"

"No," I admitted, my voice low. "But the thread says go. And we’re not staying here."

She nodded, her jaw tight. "Then let’s move before that thing changes its mind."

I stepped through first, the tear brushing against me like cold water, a shiver racing down my spine. Liv followed, her hand still in mine, her sparks dimming as we crossed. The air hit me like a wall—hot, humid, smelling of earth and something burnt. The cavern opened around us, its ceiling lost in shadow, its floor uneven with jagged outcrops of crystal. The veins pulsed brighter as we entered, their glow casting long, twisted shadows across the stone.

My system pinged, faint and fractured, its voice a whisper in my skull.

System Status: Partial Recovery Initiated.

Psionic Saturation: 87%.

Host Integrity: 19% and Rising.

Anomaly Detection: Multiple Signatures.

Multiple signatures.

I tensed, scanning the dark. The shapes I’d seen were closer now—figures, humanoid but off, their movements jerky, like puppets on broken strings. Their skin shimmered, reflecting the crystal veins, and their eyes—when they turned toward us—glowed a dull red, unblinking, empty.

"Kai..." Liv’s voice was a warning, her sparks flaring again, brighter this time, casting light across the nearest figure. It was tall, gaunt, its limbs elongated, its face a mask of stretched flesh with no mouth, just those red eyes boring into us. More emerged from the shadows, a dozen at least, their silence louder than any scream.

"They’re not Skraith," I muttered, raising my rifle. The charge was gone, but the weight felt good, familiar. I glanced at Liv. "Can you—"

"On it," she cut in, her hands snapping up. A wall of sparks erupted, crackling and bright, pushing the figures back. They didn’t attack—not yet—but they didn’t retreat either. They just... watched, their heads tilting in unison, like they were listening to something we couldn’t hear.

The thread pulsed stronger, pulling me toward the cavern’s center. I squinted, spotting a structure there—a pedestal, maybe, or an altar, its surface etched with symbols that glowed faintly, matching the veins. Something rested on it, small and dark, its shape indistinct but heavy with purpose.

"Over there," I said, nodding toward it. "That’s what’s calling me."

Liv’s eyes narrowed, her sparks steadying. "You think it’s a weapon? A way out?"

"Or a trap," I said, but I was already moving, her hand still in mine, her energy syncing with my steps. The figures followed, slow and deliberate, their red eyes tracking us. My system flickered again.

System Alert: Anomaly Interaction Imminent.

Psionic Signature Match: 73% with Watcher Entity.

The Watcher.

My gut twisted. The thing that had touched me, learned me—it was connected to this. To them. To whatever was on that pedestal.

We reached it, the air around the structure thicker, humming with a low vibration that rattled my teeth. The object was a shard, black and jagged, no bigger than my fist, its surface rippling like liquid when I leaned closer. The thread snapped taut, a jolt that shot through my arm, my chest, my mind. My system flared.

System Override: Object Identified.

Designation: Hollow Core Fragment.

Integration Potential: 89%.

Risk Level: Extreme.

"Kai, don’t—" Liv started, but I was already reaching, my hand moving on its own, drawn by that thread, that pull. My fingers brushed the shard, and the world tilted.

Pain exploded in my skull, a white-hot lance that burned through every nerve. My vision blurred, then sharpened, showing me—everything. The cavern, the figures, Liv’s wide-eyed stare, but layered over it, a flood of images, sounds, sensations. A city crumbling under alien claws. A sky torn open by green light. A voice—not the Heart’s, not the Watcher’s—whispering my name, over and over, like a prayer or a curse.

I saw Rylan, his face clear for a heartbeat—pale, bruised, alive—trapped in a cage of shadow, his eyes meeting mine before the vision ripped away. The shard pulsed in my hand, its surface searing my skin, but I couldn’t let go. My system screamed.

Integration Initiated. Host Integrity: 8% and Falling.

Psionic Saturation: 100%.

Warning: Entity Assimilation Detected.

"Kai!" Liv’s voice broke through, her hands on my shoulders, shaking me. Her sparks surged, grounding me, pulling me back. The pain eased, the visions fading, but the shard stayed in my grip, its heat sinking into my bones.

"I’m here," I gasped, blinking hard. The figures had stopped, their heads tilted, their red eyes dimming. The cavern’s hum softened, the veins pulsing slower. The thread was gone, replaced by a steady thrum inside me, the shard’s energy merging with my system.

"What the hell did you do?" Liv demanded, her voice sharp, her hands still on me, her sparks fading.

"I don’t know," I admitted, staring at the shard. It wasn’t liquid anymore—it was solid, black glass etched with those same symbols, warm against my palm. "But it knows Rylan. It showed me him."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "Alive?"

"Yeah," I said, my voice rough. "Somewhere in here. And it... it’s part of me now."

She swore under her breath, glancing at the figures. They hadn’t moved, but their silence felt heavier, expectant. "We need to get out. Whatever you did, it bought us time, but they’re not done."

I nodded, slipping the shard into my pocket, its weight a constant pressure against my leg. My system pinged again, faint but steady.

System Status: Integration Stable.

Host Integrity: 15% and Rising.

Anomaly Contained: Partial.

Recommendation: Seek Exit.

Seek exit.

Easier said than done. The tear we’d come through was gone, the amber glow vanished, leaving only the cavern’s pulsing walls. But the thrum inside me—the shard’s energy—pointed forward, toward a tunnel at the far end, its mouth dark but alive with that same red-gold glow.

"That way," I said, nodding toward it. "It’s leading us."

Liv hesitated, her sparks flaring briefly, then dying down. "If it’s another trap—"

"It might be," I cut in. "But it’s our only shot. For Rylan. For us."

She met my eyes, her expression hard but resolute. "Then let’s take it. Together."

The air grew colder as we descended, the hum deepening into a rhythm I could almost hear—words, maybe, or a heartbeat. Liv’s hand tightened in mine, her sparks brushing my skin, a faint warmth against the chill. The tunnel curved, the glow intensifying, and I knew—deep down, where the thread had been—that we were heading toward something big. Something that might save us.

Or break us for good.

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