The sun had not yet pierced the veil of morning mist that blanketed the Celestial Mountains. Their peaks, ancient and sharp as forgotten truths, loomed in silence as a symphony of wind whispered across the snow-laced spires. Inside the crystalline sanctuary nestled at the range’s highest crest—the Palace of Solquartz—a sudden cry fractured the stillness.

Luxiry’s wail echoed through the opalescent halls, a sound both human and haunting, like a melody laced with ancient sorrow. The resonant harmonics of the palace responded, pulsing softly in hues of rose and gold, reacting to her distress.

Elias stirred first, pulling himself upright beneath the gossamer sheets. The flickering biolights embedded in his skin shimmered faintly in the dimness, casting shifting runes across the marble floor.

“This is the consequence,” he said quietly, his voice both wearied and resolute, “of a union between enhancement and repose. When one seeks the transcendence of the self, and the other craves the stillness of belonging.”

He turned to face you, his eyes—silver and aglow with data streams—searching yours for understanding, not accusation. In the dim light, you could still see the thin seam at his temple, a mark left by the neural lattice that had changed him. He was no longer wholly mortal. And yet, there was fatigue behind his gaze. Human fatigue.

You rose from the silken bed, your long robe whispering around your feet as you stepped across the translucent floor, its veins of starlit ore shimmering faintly beneath each step. Where Elias had chosen augmentation, you had chosen the earth—the soul of the mountain, the sanctity of breath, the grounding truths of a life unfettered by circuitry.