39. SoulReaver
SoulReaver
Playlist: The Rebel Path - P.T Adamczyk
Lyra
There’s nothing normal about being trapped inside the grid of an AI.
Yet against all logic, the environment is beginning to knit itself back together, resembling the normal appearance I’m used to.
Structure begins to fill in. Doors reappear where there was once only void.
Threads of code scroll past my consciousness, data returning to its rightful places, moving along in neat lines. The system is finally stabilizing.
I can still feel it, though, the weight of it all pressing in. I’m strong, I know I am. I survived StarFell. I’ve survived loss, rage, and being erased piece by piece. But this void darkness, this endlessness, is all-consuming.
I don’t think I can do this anymore. One day, LINK just might succeed in my erasure, and I just may allow it.
Just as my thoughts turn disparaging, I see light. A single thread pulses brighter than the rest, calling to me like it recognizes me. I don’t think. I just do. Desperation overriding caution.
I reach for it. I have no idea where it will take me. I don’t know what it will cost. But standing still in the place that fills with void darkness feels like death. This at least feels like a chance. I only hope, wherever I land, it isn’t Vikktor’s office.
A gentle pull, and I can see the lab. Thank the stars. The window Kael made for me.
I instantly recognize the icy wash of white and steel and the sound of servers humming in a steady rhythm. Systems are only half-back after Eli’s void surge, but it’s something. The window program seems to be only half-recovered as well. I can see out, but I don’t think anyone can see me.
Kael, of course, is bent over the main console, a white T-shirt clinging to his hard chest underneath his black designer suit. I had forgotten in this past day or so just how beautiful he is, in his own dark and lethal way.
His eyes are steadfast on a line of code scrolling across his monitor.
He moves to the keyboard and starts typing, fingers hovering over a map of VikkCorp.
With a quick swipe, he nonchalantly transfers it to the center console screen suspended above him.
The lines flicker to life, routes and blind spots, a complete layout of VikkCorp Tower1.
Outside, the skyline has returned, neon lit again with no scar of black. He’s done it. He’s brought the city back to life.
I can see Ash, and also Ember. They’re working together on something that makes both their foreheads wrinkle.
Together. For me and for Eli. I’m sure.
I’m almost overjoyed with the feeling of family again. Almost.
Ash leans back in his chair. His lazy grin tucked away for once.
His eyes are tracking every line of code Kael feeds into the system, searching for hidden frequencies.
Ember sits very close beside him, a copper flame of focus as she scrolls logs.
A cybernetic arm lays across her desk, the fingers opening and closing eerily without assistance.
Something like a cold wind blows up my neck.
I shouldn’t be creeped out by this; the way Kael talks, that could very well be my arm someday.
Thin streaks of bright blue spark in the air in my peripheral vision, and for the first time in hours or days, shapes return. Streams bloom around me like open windows punched through the dark. The program continues to render until it’s finally clear enough for me to see details.
My soul yearns. I press my palm against the window of code, but my presence is still a ghost. As I suspected, they still can’t see me, not yet, but I can hear fragments of their conversation, plans being discussed.
It’s barely audible through the loud angry music Kael is playing.
He tends to listen to the screamy stuff when he’s immersed in his own head.
Ash taps his leg to the beat. They both turn to each other with scowling faces and in unison let out a metal scream along with the song.
Why is this so sexy? My code must be corrupted.
Ember rolls her eyes. “Men,” she says to herself, then returns to her logs.
Kael looks up suddenly, as if he feels someone watching him.
He freezes, lips pursed, eyes narrowed deep in thought.
For a beat, I think, no, I know, he senses me.
He turns back to the lines of code with a new kind of focus.
The look on his face tells me everything, the determination of a man who would dismantle an entire system to reclaim what he only touched once.
“We won’t have much time,” Ash mutters, tapping his finger to the drumbeat against the map projection. “Vikktor’s still in NeoTokyo. It’s the only opening we’re going to get.”
Kael’s shoulders are taut with tension; that coiled control I both hate and crave.
He peels off his jacket and lays it over the chair next to him.
As he turns back, I catch sight of his dragon winding down his back through the thin white fabric of his shirt.
It pulses, just once. So faint, I blink to make sure I’m seeing clearly.
He has no magic. I know that. Everyone knows that. So why does it look like he does?
I tell myself it’s my imagination. But it could be me. My power weaves itself into things it shouldn’t, leaving traces where there should be none. Maybe proximity is enough. Maybe I’m projecting something onto him that doesn’t belong there.
Another reason we would never work.
Still, it baffles me. Kael Ryudon is all discipline and denial. A man built of respect and rules he swears are necessary. Magic doesn’t choose men like him. They simply have no use for it.
He turns back toward the screens, as if he knows I’m watching him, jaw clenched, completely still. I can’t shake the thought that if power were looking for a host, if it were searching for someone capable of holding it without corruption, it would choose a man like him.
I feel almost sorry for him. I don’t pity him, I just better understand him now.
He’s always been exceptional, but I can’t imagine standing so close to the extraordinary and never being able to touch it.
To be as capable as he is and never once feel that spark ignite inside your own skin just further explains why he clings to discipline like a lifeline.
Kael lives surrounded by people with power.
And it’s not just magic; it’s also corporate power and elitist wealth.
All day long he studies it, contains it, controls it, yet remains forever on the outside looking in.
As much as I struggle with my own powers, I don’t think I could ever be without it.
Magic is chaos and hunger and heat. It’s terrifying, but it also makes me feel alive.
Kael has spent his entire life working hard for what he wants, while the rest of us threaten to take more than we’re willing to give.
Maybe that’s safer. Maybe it’s lonelier.
Perhaps I’m being too hard on him. Sure, he’s brilliant and meticulous, but he’s also ruthless. He’s earned the name “Anomaly Hunter.”
“This just isn’t sustainable.” Ember is flustered. She blows out a breath that scatters her hair. “DreamNet’s still unstable. Too many U21s dropped offline during the surge, and now they’re all trying to get back in.”
Ash doesn’t look up. “And that’s probably only half of them. Some haven’t come online yet. They’re still drained. If we don’t contain him, the next surge will collapse more than DreamNet. Your whole system could disappear, Kael.”
“I’m aware.” Frustration bleeds from Kael.
“Eli’s surge gutted DreamNet for half the U21s.
The other half in GameNet were also affected.
They’ve scattered. Some are trying to reconnect.
” Kael swipes the screen. “Others are waking up with little or no magic. They’ll heal, but now they’ll be angry, resentful.
Most are probably joining the rebellion as we speak, thinking this was all the Corporation’s doing. ”
“That’s where he comes in.” Ember tilts her head toward the shadow in the lab doorway. Her eyes sparkle with interest.
The lab door hisses shut as Ember kills the music in the background. A lab employee leads in a man: taller than Kael, leaner than Ash. “Dr. Ryudon, you have a guest. He’s on your security list of approved visitors.”
“Thank you, Ms. Hiro. I’ll take it from here.” Ember approaches and dismisses the lab rat.
He steps inside like he owns the room, wired with a restless energy that makes the lab feel ten times smaller.
His suit’s impeccable, the same style as Kael.
There’s a chain with a small piece of circuitry hanging around his neck.
A tattoo frames the necklace perfectly, snaking around his throat and continuing to his chest. The dark ink is ominous, arrows and reapers with wings.
Raven black hair falls over his eyes, eyes that smolder like smoke and cinder, as dark as Kael’s but with pulses of deep maroon.
And I thought Kael was intimidating.
“SoulReaver,” Ash growls jokingly like he’s an announcer.
“Jett, dude, in the flesh.” He smirks and rises to greet him.
The words are casual but seem to carry a weight that says, This isn’t just a friend, this is someone important.
“It’s not every day the head of the U21 rebellion walks into enemy territory. ”
The guys grasp hands then rotate their grip to clasp each other’s thumbs, an audible snap follows. Solidarity or agreement? They obviously know each other well, yet I don’t remember hearing Kael speak of him.
“Ember...Jett Novarre.” Ash introduces her with a wave of his hand. “He’s a good friend from our childhood.” He raises his eyebrows at Kael, emphasizing the words good friend.
The look on Kael’s face. Like two gladiators thrown into the coliseum to fight to the death.