The front gate creaked open as Kyle stepped into the yard. Rain still clung to the earth, and the scent of wet soil mixed with oil and old wires from the shed out back.
Vane Arven sat on the porch, pipe in one hand, a rag in the other, polishing an old handheld scanner that hadn't worked in twenty years. His eyes, faded but sharp, locked on Kyle the moment he stepped forward—accompanied by the silent Fragment floating behind him.
"…So," Vane muttered, pipe clenched between his teeth. "The lab didn't kill you."
Kyle grinned, eyes bright. "Nope. But I think I broke it."
The old man arched a brow. "Go on."
Kyle dropped to his knees and launched into it—the Core shattering, the storm of light, the creature with no name. The Resonance. The voice that whispered in his mind. Every detail.
Vane didn't speak until the very end.
When Kyle finished, the old man leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "A Fragment," he muttered. "And you bonded without dying. That's… absurd."
Kyle hesitated. "You know what it is?"
Vane stood up slowly, walked into the house, and came back with a weathered black case. He opened it in front of Kyle without a word.
Inside were tools. Strange gloves made of dull blue fiber, a cracked communicator, an injection kit with color-coded capsules, and a field journal marked with the faded sigil of an old division—R-Class.
"This was mine," Vane said. "Back when I was still registered. Before they wiped us."
Kyle looked up at him. "You were… an X-Resonant?"
The term was old. Practically erased from public knowledge. X-Resonants weren't just Tamers—they were people who had bonded with Echoes that weren't supposed to exist. Forbidden Echoes. Fragments. Class-Z threats.
"I was twelve when I got mine," Vane said. "But I left home when I was six. Same as you. Same damn day. Hell of a thing, isn't it?"
He knelt in front of Kyle and handed him the gloves. "These'll keep the bond stable. That Fragment's power will spike at random—it might overwhelm you if you don't stay centered."
Kyle stared at the gloves. "You're… letting me go?"
"Letting you?" Vane laughed softly. "Kid, I have to. You've got a Fragment now. There are three paths for people like us: run, hide, or walk straight into the fire."
He stood up again, pipe back in his mouth. "You're already on the path. So walk it."
Kyle's eyes burned—not with fear, but with something fierce. Purpose. Hope. Resolve.
"Where should I start?" he asked.
Vane looked to the horizon.
"Five continents. Hundreds of Echo species. And more legends than I can count. But if I were you?" He pointed west. "Go to Delrahm. That's where the first Progenitor Echo was seen."
Kyle nodded. "Got it."
"And Kyle," Vane said, as the boy turned to go. "One last thing."
"…Yeah?"
"If anyone ever tells you Fragments are evil—don't believe them.
What they fear… is power they can't control."
The Fragment hovered closer to Kyle, as if responding to the old man's words.
Kyle stepped past the gate, the first drops of sunlight breaking through the clouds.
He was six years old. Armed with a forbidden Echo. With no memories and no guarantees.
But he had a goal.
Tame them all. Every last one.
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