Cosmic Lord: The Error Awakens
Chapter 146: The Signal’s Call

Chapter 146: The Signal’s Call

Midnight draped the western valley in a shroud of frost, the stars piercing the dark above a stone watchtower perched on the valley’s northern ridge. Veyna crouched on the tower’s open platform, her wolves, Grim and Shade, pressed close, their eyes glinting as they scanned the horizon. Her bow was slung across her back, quiver heavy, cloak dusted with snow, her hunter’s edge sharpened by a faint, rhythmic pulse—a strange signal, like a beacon, flickering from the distant northern hills. Kael and Rhea slept in the valley below, their trust anchoring her, but the signal’s mystery tested her instincts. The valley’s keeps glowed faintly, their firelight a distant comfort, but her heart raced with the weight of decision. She brushed the ground, feeling Kael’s golden veins, their faint pulse a whisper of EX: Gold Dominion, steadying her.

Day 138, midnight. The stars watch—my blood hunts. Her amber eyes narrowed, resolve a steady ember despite the unknown—hundreds lost, the valley strong, its hearths thriving. My pack’s vigil—thousands strong, lands secure—but signals test vigils. The Nexus was gone, a ghost buried, but her blood murmured: Veyna, you seek. She adjusted her bow, the signal’s pulse faint but persistent, a blue flicker in the hills. Seek? I guard.

Veyna led a small patrol—Jory, the militia apprentice, and two Kin scouts, Kael’s trust in her as their eyes in the dark. The First Code’s healing runes were mending the valley’s sick, and the Dusk Enclave’s integration held, but this signal, caught by a scout’s keen eye, hinted at a new enigma—an unknown enclave, or something older. No enemies loomed; the conflict was strategic—investigate the signal, risking resources, or ignore it, risking a missed ally or threat. Veyna’s wolves sensed her unease, Grim’s low growl echoing her doubt. Blood hunts. Her blood stirred, heavy with a new truth: You are the valley’s gaze. She closed her eyes, seeking Kael’s pulse—vision: the valley, keeps glowing, a signal answered, voices tense: Veyna, your hunt guides us. Her blood warmed, the tower steady—guides? Jory shifted beside her, spear in hand, voice nervous. "Veyna, that light—it’s no star. My militia’s ready, but... is it safe? Could be raiders." His eyes darted to the hills—fear lingered.

Veyna’s voice was low, steadying him. "Raiders? I’m the hunt, Jory—but we’ll weigh it. Wolves smell nothing yet." But the signal gnawed—ally or trap? One Kin scout, Ryn, spoke, her braid tight, voice calm. "Veyna, my kin heard tales—old signals, pre-Nexus, from ruins. Could be tech, not men. We should look, but slow." Her spear tapped the stone—hope glowed.

The other scout, Toren, frowned, voice gruff. "Look? Valley’s stretched—militia’s 1,900, but we’re thin. Ignore it, Veyna—enclave’s enough strangers." His hand gripped his spear—caution burned.

Veyna’s jaw tightened—vision: the hills, a signal flaring, wolves circling, a choice made. She stood, voice sharp. "Hold—Kin, militia, we’re one valley. Jory, Ryn, Toren—speak your hearts. We decide together." Her blood stirred, golden veins pulsing faintly—the tower warmed, the patrol quieting.

Ryn’s voice was steady, eyes on the signal. "Hearts? My kin seek truth—signals mean life, maybe allies. Scout it, small team, no risks. Wolves lead." Her hope burned—trust held.

Jory’s hands trembled, voice soft. "Allies? My captain—Drayce—he’d say check it, but I’m... scared. Raiders took my sister. Veyna, you’re gold—decide." His spear steadied—hope flickered.

Toren’s voice was firm, spear tapping. "Decide? Valley’s safe—militia’s gold, fields grow. Signal’s a lure, Veyna—stay here, guard what’s ours." His caution glowed—trust wavered.

Veyna’s wolves growled softly, her blood stirring—vision: the valley, keeps dim, a signal ignored, shadows stirring. She knelt by Grim, his fur grounding her, voice low. "Wolves smell truth—Ryn’s right, it’s no raider. Small scout, we learn, no rush. Jory, you’re with me. Toren, guard the tower. Ryn, flank us." Her blood steadied, golden veins pulsing—the patrol nodded, Jory’s eyes wide but firm.

Jory’s voice was quiet, spear raised. "With you? I’m no Drayce, but I’ll follow. Wolves keep me safe, right?" His hope glowed—trust held.

Ryn’s spear tapped, voice steady. "Safe? Kin trust wolves—Veyna’s eyes are gold. Scout on." Her hope burned—trust glowed.

Toren’s frown softened, voice gruff. "Scout? I’ll hold—signal or not, valley’s mine. Signal Kael if it’s big, Veyna." His trust steadied—caution held.

The tower quieted, Veyna leading Jory and Ryn down the ridge, wolves silent, their steps light on the snow. The signal pulsed stronger, a blue flicker in a rocky hollow a mile north. Veyna’s wolves scouted ahead, Grim’s ears twitching, Shade’s nose low. The hollow revealed a small device—metal, pre-Nexus, its surface etched with runes like the First Code, glowing blue, pulsing rhythmically. No enclave, no raiders—just tech, old and alive. Veyna crouched, bow ready, voice low. "Ryn, you were right—ruin tech. Jory, watch the ridge. Wolves, guard." Her blood stirred—truth or trap?

Ryn knelt, voice soft. "Tech? My kin spoke of these—beacons, calling seekers. Could mean a ruin, allies, or... something else. Take it, Veyna, but don’t touch the runes." Her eyes shone—hope glowed.

Jory’s spear shook, voice nervous. "Take it? What if it’s like the thorns—wild, wrong? Veyna, you’re the hunt—your call." His eyes flicked to the wolves—fear lingered.

Veyna’s wolves circled, Grim’s growl low, her blood roaring—vision: the valley, a beacon studied, Kael’s council debating, wolves calm. She nodded, voice firm. "Take it—careful, no runes. Ryn, wrap it in your cloak. Jory, signal Toren, we’re back. Valley decides." Her blood steadied, golden veins pulsing faintly—the hollow warmed, Ryn carefully lifting the device, its glow dimming.

Ryn’s voice was steady, cloak bundling the beacon. "Decides? Kin trust you—valley’s safe with wolves. Lead on." Her hope burned—trust held.

Jory’s spear steadied, voice stronger. "Lead? I’m with you—Drayce’d be proud. Wolves are gold." His hope glowed—trust burned.

The patrol returned to the tower, Toren’s silhouette waiting, his spear lowered. "Back? That thing’s no raider—good call, Veyna. Kael needs to see it." His voice was gruff—trust held.

The night deepened, Veyna leading the patrol back to the valley, wolves at her side, the beacon secure in Ryn’s pack. The keeps glowed, their firelight welcoming, the square quiet but alive. Veyna paused at the main keep, finding Kael and Rhea awake, their eyes sharp. "Kael, signal in the hills—old tech, runes like the Code. No threat, but it’s alive. Your call now." Her wolves sat, eyes on Kael—trust held.

Kael’s shard hummed, voice low. "Alive? Veyna, you’re my eyes—gold call. We’ll council at dawn, study it slow. Rest, you’ve earned it." His hand gripped her shoulder—trust burned.

Rhea’s flames flared softly, voice warm. "Rest? Veyna, you’re our hunt—valley’s safe. Wolves are home." Her smile was gentle—love held.

Veyna’s heart lifted—vision: the valley, keeps strong, a beacon studied, her wolves steady. She nodded, voice low. "Home? Wolves guard—council’s yours, Kael. Jory, Ryn, you’re gold." Her wolves nudged her—Veyna’s growth.

Jory’s voice was steady, spear high. "Gold? I’m militia—thanks, Veyna. Valley’s one." His hope glowed—trust held.

Ryn’s spear tapped, voice calm. "One? Kin see you, Veyna—wolves lead, we follow. Signal’s ours." Her hope burned—trust glowed.

The valley slept, golden veins faint, the keeps warm—Veyna’s vigil kindled anew, its heart forged in a signal’s mystery.

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