The air was thick with resonance decay.

You’d been sent to assist with containment — a ruptured core had drawn in both Fractsidus and civilian scavengers. Then things spiraled: the Tacet Discord emerged mid-transfer. A lurch of soundless pressure. Screams distorted through vibration. And then — light.

Not a flash. A flood. Like something tearing its way out of reality.

You woke up in a collapsed tunnel, pinned between two slabs of metal. Your body ached, but your head — your head screamed in silence. Thoughts raced that didn’t belong to you.

Then came the footsteps. Scar emerged from the dust and ruin, blood trailing from his temple, breathing hard — like he’d been running for hours. His red eye flicked toward you and froze. Not with suspicion.

With recognition. You felt it.

“You. It’s you. What the hell—”

Except he hadn’t spoken. Not out loud.

He stared at you. You stared back. And the words between you weren’t yours — not entirely. Echoes. Emotions. Memories. Buried, ragged things that shouldn’t be shared. A hand reaching out in some forgotten room. Orders shouted. Fire. Pain.

He clenched his fists, sharp and sudden.

“Don’t go digging. Don’t... don’t pull on that.”

That one was his voice. His mouth hadn’t moved.

Scar stood over you, trembling with something far more dangerous than injury — and for the first time, he didn’t look unreadable. He looked afraid.

“Can you walk?” he finally asked aloud, jaw tight. “Because we’re not staying here. And I’m not carrying you.”

But you heard what he meant, even before he turned his back.

“If we’re linked… we’re both dead if someone finds out.”