The air shifted when he appeared.
Velor didn't walk. He descended—slow, deliberate, like gravity itself had accepted him as part of its design. There was no echo to his steps, no scuff of boot or shift of cloth. Just presence. His robe, deep gray with threads of blood-red, trailed behind him like a shadow with intent. The air around him smelled faintly of metal and myrrh.
Lana felt the silence stretch too long. Not empty, but weighted. Her fingers twitched at her sides before she could stop them. She'd seen danger shaped like monsters, but this man didn't wear a shape. He wore purpose. And it was terrifying in its precision.
Velor's face was too perfect. Symmetrical to a degree that made him feel wrong. Like a statue someone kept polishing after the soul had gone. His eyes held no flicker of recognition or warmth. Only stillness. And when he spoke, it was like sound was doing him a favor.
"You made better time than we expected," he said, eyes never leaving Lana. "But I suppose time bends for the corridor-born."
Jason instinctively stepped between them, his chest puffing in defense even though his fingers trembled around the hilt of the scavenged blade. "We're not here for your creepy cult welcome party."
Velor blinked once, slowly. "Then you'll be pleased to know there is no party. Only facts. And consequences."
Kieran's claws pressed against his palms beneath his coat. He didn't raise them. Not yet. But every muscle in his body had shifted subtly. Lana could feel it.
Velor shifted his gaze ever so slightly, like someone acknowledging an insect. "You've done well to get this far, Kieran. But you already know you're losing the thread, don't you?"
Kieran didn't respond. His silence was darker than a threat.
Velor turned fully to Lana. "You're leaking."
Lana stiffened. "What?"
"Your DNA. Your corridor-pulse. The second heart inside you is active. It's broadcasting." He stepped closer. "Every breath you take leaves a trail. Every footprint whispers to the Queen's network. You are a beacon now."
Jason's eyes snapped to her. "Tell me he's lying."
Velor didn't smile. He didn't have to. "Your presence has already triggered three awakenings in cities you passed through. A mining colony collapsed into feral chaos yesterday. Twenty-four hybrids woke up screaming your name."
Nyx stepped forward slowly, her eyes dimmer than before. "He's not lying."
She lifted her shirt slightly. Her skin glowed beneath it—veins lit with faint blue light that flickered like static.
"I thought it was feedback," she said. "From the corridor. But it's replication. We're still changing."
Kieran groaned low in his throat. He gripped his arm and stepped back. Beneath his skin, something moved. Bones shifted against tendons. Lana heard the sound—a wet, grating pop. Kieran's shoulders hunched, and his breath came sharp.
"I can feel it," he muttered. "Like my blood is listening to something I haven't heard yet."
Velor didn't flinch. "That's the call. The corridor wasn't a tunnel. It was a gestation chamber. You walked out too early."
Jason turned to Lana. "We need to go. We have Nyx, we have each other. We don't need this."
Velor tilted his head slightly. "You're too late to turn back. Three things will happen if you try."
He held up a finger. "First, Nyx will not survive past the third night. Her integration is incomplete. The Queen's code is still binding itself to her organs. Without the stabilizing pulse, she'll collapse inward. Her death will not be gentle."
Another finger.
"Second, Kieran will stop being Kieran. The corridor's imprint wasn't designed to sit dormant. It was meant to evolve. He'll stop fighting it. He'll stop choosing. And when that happens, he'll kill someone he loves."
A third finger.
"Third, Lana. You will doom every settlement you enter. You'll awaken sleepers, send dormant codes flaring across miles. Your body is a transmitter. A weapon wrapped in skin."
He lowered his hand. "Unless you stay."
Kieran staggered toward a wall and leaned against it, breathing hard. "He's bluffing."
Nyx turned to him. "He's not."
Jason shook his head, backing up a step. "You're talking about mutation like it's a prophecy. But it's just infection. Right? We get it out, we go home. Done."
Velor's voice remained calm. "You don't understand. You can't just excise evolution. You can only steer it."
Lana hadn't spoken.
Her heart thudded once—her real one—and then again, deeper. The second pulse answered it. She clenched her fists.
Velor turned toward her fully. "You can remove the corridor from your blood. The Rite of Reversal is ancient. Surgical. But it comes at a cost. Your speed, your strength, your clarity—all of it will vanish."
He stepped closer, eyes dark as oil. "Or you can complete the Queen's Cycle. Accept your place in the lattice. Become something they'll never touch."
Jason's breath hitched. "She didn't ask for this."
"No one ever does," Velor replied.
Kieran stepped forward suddenly. "And if she says no?"
Velor's expression didn't change. "Then your blood will undo a hundred years of suppression. And you'll watch yourselves become the Queen's echo without ever seeing her face."
Lana finally spoke. "Why are you helping us?"
Velor's mouth twitched. "I'm not. I'm observing. Because once, I stood here. And I said no. I want to see if you'll say yes."
From behind him, a figure approached. Not walking. Floating slightly. A woman—if she was a woman—shaped like light passed through flesh. Her eyes were white. Her mouth didn't open, but her presence did.
Velor gestured. "Elian. My Second. She will escort you to the Sanctum. You have until sunset to choose."
Jason looked at Lana. "We don't have to go. We don't. Say the word."
Nyx touched Lana's shoulder. Her hand was warm. Too warm.
"She's already part of it," Nyx said softly. "You all are."
Kieran's claws scraped the stone behind him. His jaw clenched. "We need a cure, not a ceremony."
Velor turned. "Then walk away."
No one moved.
Elian stood still.
Lana stared at the horizon. The wind picked up, soft and dry. She could hear her heart again—both of them.
They weren't in sync.
Yet.
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time, she wished they were.
As the wind whistled through the gaps in the distant spires of Noctis, silence returned. But it wasn't peaceful. It was full. Heavy. Everyone knew that walking forward would mean giving up something they could never get back. And walking away might already be too late.
Velor turned his back to them, robe flowing like spilled ink behind him. "The Sanctum is ready."
Elian extended her hand, not in welcome—but in expectation.
And Lana, standing there between a love she could break, a self she could lose, and a power she was starting to crave—didn't step forward.
Not yet.
But she didn't step back either.