Echoes of time

The Aether God's massive hand remained extended, its metal fingers trembling as though the very act of reaching out defied the weight of history. Kainen hesitated only a moment before grasping it. The touch was unexpected—warmer than the cold steel he had braced for, as if remnants of something living still lingered beneath the layers of rust and ruin.

As their hands met, a surge of energy pulsed through Kainen's arm, an ancient frequency slipping past his senses and into his mind. A vision unfurled behind his eyes—blinding flames, skies darkened by warships, and titanic figures waging battle across vast cities reduced to rubble. He gasped, staggering backward as the images faded. The Aether God's glowing eyes studied him, the weight of millennia pressing into the silence between them.

"You see now," the machine rumbled. "I was not always a god."

Kainen's pulse steadied. "Then what were you?"

The Aether God looked toward the horizon, where the last light of day flickered like dying embers. "A builder. A guardian. One of many." Its voice crackled, as if the words had rusted over time. "Before we became weapons, we shaped worlds."

Kainen wiped the dust from his brow. "And yet, you were betrayed."

The machine exhaled a sound like grinding metal. "We were repurposed. Turned against the ones we swore to protect."

The words settled over Kainen like a lead weight. He had spent his life clawing through the carcasses of the old world, searching for remnants of forgotten brilliance. But to stand before one of its last, lingering gods—to hear regret in the voice of a machine that once ruled the sky—was something else entirely.

"Why did they do it?" he asked.

The Aether God turned to him. "Because they feared us."

The wind howled, whipping the sands into spirals of shifting gold. Kainen ran his fingers along the intricate engravings on the machine's arm, symbols now illuminated by the faint glow of the Divine Core.

"Then it's time to remember who you were before the war," Kainen said. "You wanted to build, not destroy. Let's start there."

The Aether God regarded him for a long moment before answering, "Then we must seek the others."

Kainen's brow furrowed. "Others?"

The machine's core pulsed. "I was not the only one left behind."

The words sent a chill through Kainen. If there were more remnants of the old gods, what would they be? Dormant like this one, waiting for redemption? Or lost beyond repair, twisted by the centuries of neglect and war?

"Where do we begin?" Kainen asked.

The Aether God turned its gaze to the north. "Beneath the ruins of the Iron Spire. That is where the first of my kin was cast into slumber."

Kainen exhaled sharply. The Iron Spire. A graveyard of technology and despair, a place where only the most desperate scavengers dared to tread. Yet, something in him stirred—a curiosity, a purpose he had never quite grasped before.

"Then we move at first light," he said.

The Aether God's gaze softened, the glow of its core flickering in quiet agreement. And so, as the desert night stretched its cold fingers across the dunes, an alliance was forged in the ashes of forgotten time.