Roots of Doubt

The jungle had a way of blurring time. Days folded into nights, the drip of rainwater through the canopy marking hours like a broken clock. Since discovering the mural, Lira had barely spoken to me—or to Kaelis. She spent her days carving paths through the undergrowth, returning with herbs, fruit, and a simmering distrust that even the humidity couldn't soften.

Kaelis, meanwhile, doubled down on my training. Today's lesson was precision.

"Again," they said, their golden-lit arm crossed over their chest.

The automaton in front of me—a spindly, bird-like machine with talons the length of my forearm—twitched as I channeled Aetherium into its core. The gauntlet's violet light spilled into its chest cavity, threading through gears and wires like liquid lightning.

*"Catalyst,"* it chirped, its voice oddly melodic. *"The roots remember."*

"Ignore it," Kaelis snapped. "Focus on the task."

The task: make the automaton fly.

I gritted my teeth. The Aetherium flowed easier now, but the gauntlet's whispers had grown louder, more insistent. It wasn't just the machines that spoke—it was the jungle itself. The vines, the stones, the water. All of it hummed with a low, resonant frequency that made my bones ache.

"I'm trying," I muttered.

The automaton's wings shuddered, lifting it a foot off the ground before it crashed into a pile of moss-covered rubble.

Kaelis sighed. "You're distracted."

*No kidding.*

Lira's discovery of the mural hung between us like a blade. The Sleeper's prison, Kaelis's betrayal, the Catalyst's role in it all—none of it fit with the noble "teacher" act they'd been selling. But every time I tried to ask, Kaelis deflected.

"Let's take a walk," they said abruptly, turning toward the Sanctum's eastern tunnel.

"What about the automaton?"

"Leave it. You've done enough damage."

---

**The Heart of the Sanctum**

The tunnel sloped downward, the air growing colder and thicker with every step. Kaelis's golden light glinted off walls embedded with war-era relics—rusted blades, shattered glass lenses, the skeletal remains of machines I couldn't name.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To the source," they said cryptically.

The tunnel opened into a cavern so vast its ceiling vanished into shadow. Below us, a lake of black water stretched into the darkness, its surface perfectly still. At its center stood a stone pillar, its peak crowned with a pulsing Aetherium core—the same one I'd touched during my first vision.

"The Sanctum's heart," Kaelis said. "And the anchor of the Sleeper's prison."

The gauntlet trembled, its violet veins brightening.

"You said the Sleeper was buried beneath a mountain," I said, eyeing the core.

"Symbols, child. The mountain is here." They tapped their temple. "The mind. The soul. The Sleeper is not a *thing*—it is a force. A hunger. And your gauntlet is the key that could unbind it."

I stepped back. "Then why train me? Why not destroy it?"

Their golden gaze flickered. "Because the Church will not stop hunting you. Because Lira's kingdom marches toward war. Because sometimes, to protect the world, you must first understand how to break it."

The words settled like poison.

"You want me to control the Sleeper," I realized.

"I want you to survive it."

---

**Lira's Discovery**

I found her at dusk, crouched in the mural chamber. She'd scraped away more moss, revealing a new panel: robed figures kneeling before a tree with roots that coiled into a humanoid shape.

"They worshipped it," she said, not looking up. "The Sleeper. Or whatever it really is."

"Kaelis says it's a force. Not a god."

"Kaelis lies." She pointed to the humanoid tree. Its face, though eroded, bore a striking resemblance to the shadowy figure in the earlier mural. "This isn't a prison. It's a shrine. The Veiled Hand didn't bury the Sleeper—they *fed* it. Aetherium. Machines. People."

The gauntlet pulsed, warm against my skin. "Why tell me this?"

"Because you're still listening to them." She stood, wiping grime from her hands. "Every time you use that gauntlet, you're playing their game. And I'm starting to think Kaelis isn't the only liar here."

Her mechanical eye fixed on me, cold and unblinking.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She tossed a rusted locket at my feet. It was engraved with a symbol—a gear entwined with a serpent. "Found it in the tunnels. It's your family crest, isn't it?"

The gauntlet flared, its light reflecting off the locket's surface. My chest tightened.

"You knew," she said. "Your ancestors weren't just relic hunters. They were Veiled Hand."

The truth hit like a fist. The visions, the gauntlet's bond, Kaelis's interest in me—none of it was chance.

"I didn't—"

"Save it." She shouldered past me. "Just stay out of my way."

---

**The Unseen Thread**

That night, I couldn't sleep.

The gauntlet's hum had become a chorus, harmonizing with the jungle's whispers. I wandered the Sanctum, tracing the murals Lira had uncovered. The tree with human roots. The black sun. The Catalyst.

In the heart chamber, the core's light pulsed like a beckoning finger.

*Touch it*, the gauntlet whispered. *Learn the truth.*

I pressed my palm to the stone pillar.

The vision struck like a fever dream.

*Kaelis, younger and whole, standing before the core. A woman in violet robes—my ancestor—arguing with them. "The Sleeper demands a Catalyst," she hissed. "A vessel. Would you sacrifice another child?"*

*Kaelis's face twisted. "I sacrifice no one."*

*"Then you condemn us all."*

The vision shattered.

I stumbled back, gasping. The gauntlet's veins blazed violet, its light refracting off the black water in jagged shards.

Footsteps echoed. Kaelis stood at the chamber's edge, their golden eyes narrowed.

"What did you see?"

"Enough," I said, clenching the gauntlet. "Who was she? The woman in the vision."

Their silence was answer enough.