The sun filtered through thin layers of cloud, casting long shadows over the growing settlement. Tents were rising where ruins once stood. Children chased one another between makeshift shelters, their laughter piercing the air like birdsong. It wasn't a city yet. But it was becoming something more than survival—it was becoming a home.
Emory stood at the edge of the crater with Rae and Damian, watching the beacon flicker. The core pulse was dimmer now—stabilized after the shutdown. But it still thrummed with potential, like a sleeping heart waiting for purpose.
"Think it's safe to keep it active?" Rae asked, flicking a pebble into the crater.
"We designed it as a free signal," Emory replied. "It can't control minds. But it can connect them. If people choose to link… they'll do it by will, not code."
Damian crossed his arms. "That's a big leap of faith."
"Yeah," Emory said. "But we've had worse odds."
Behind them, footsteps approached. Isabelle, holding a datapad and looking a little more rested than before.
"We have incoming transmissions from four outposts," she said. "Two are requesting aid. One wants access to the beacon. And the last… it's a warning."
Emory's face hardened. "From who?"
She turned the pad around. A logo flickered on the screen—an old insignia, burned and buried after the AI revolts. But familiar enough to make his stomach twist.
The Eden Protocol.
Damian cursed. "I thought they were dismantled years ago."
"They were," Isabelle said. "Or so we believed. This message isn't threatening. It's a proposition."
Rae rolled her eyes. "That's worse."
Isabelle tapped the screen and played the audio.
"This is Dr. Maren, surviving lead of Eden Protocol Unit 17. We monitored the Specter collapse and recognized the signal. We believe we can assist in stabilizing the regions affected by neural disconnection. However, we demand collaboration rights and access to the Vale Beacon."
The message ended in static.
"Demand?" Rae scoffed. "What happened to 'may we assist'?"
"They always wanted control," Emory muttered. "First with the Eden AI… then the research cities."
"And now they're crawling out of the ruins," Damian said, kicking a rock. "Typical."
Isabelle sighed. "But they're not wrong. Millions are disoriented. The neural resets broke their emotional regulators. People are waking up in pain… confusion… rage."
"So we help them without selling our freedom to Eden," Emory said. "We build clinics. Safe zones. We let the beacon stay open-source."
"Eden won't like that," Isabelle warned.
"They don't have to."
Rae nodded. "Let 'em try. This is our turf now."
That night, a bonfire blazed in the center of the camp. Survivors gathered with bowls of stew and salvaged instruments. Music—a little off-key but heartfelt—drifted into the night.
Isabelle sat beside Emory, watching a girl draw stars in the dirt with a stick.
"You think we'll last?" she asked softly.
Emory glanced at her. "No. Not like this. Not if we stay in the shadow of the past."
She looked over. "Then what?"
"We evolve," he said. "We create something better. Not a network. Not a god. Just… unity."
As the firelight flickered across their faces, Isabelle smiled faintly. "Sounds like a beginning."
Emory nodded. "It is."
High above them, the stars shone. Not as watchers, but as reminders—that every great story starts in darkness… and grows toward the light.