The unseen wounds

The first priority was the Serenity. Guided by Elias, Aris, and Kael descended to the jetty, leaving the injured Vance and the younger woman, Lena, in the makeshift warmth of the lantern room. The battered research vessel presented a stark picture of cosmic trauma. The patches Aris had spoken of were visible in the morning light: shimmering, translucent sections of hull where metal and circuitry had simply ceased to be, replaced by a visual paradox – a visible void.

"These are not holes," Aris explained, tracing the edge of one such scar with a gloved finger. "They are areas where the fundamental bonds of matter have been unraveled. The void isn't destructive in the traditional sense; it's negating. It reduces existence."

Elias recognized the unsettling signature. It was identical to the deep corruption he had purged from the Lighthouse's Root, only larger, more widespread. "Can it be cleansed?"

Aris bit her lip. "We don't know. Our instruments can't even register it. It's… anti-matter, but not. It's anti-existence. But your light… your Echo… it clearly pushed back. It reversed the process in the lighthouse's stone. Perhaps it can do the same for manufactured materials."

He pressed the orb against a void-scar on the hull. The emerald light flared, met by a faint, chilling hiss. The void-scar pulsed, trying to absorb the light, to expand, but it was too weak, too dissipated. Slowly, a microscopic shimmer began on the edges, a barely perceptible filling of the nothingness. It was incredibly slow, agonizingly subtle.

"It works," Elias breathed, a wave of relief washing over him. "But it will take forever. The ship is massive."

"And time is precisely what we don't have," Aris confirmed grimly. "These scars will spread. They'll unravel the ship's internal systems, its structural integrity. We probably only have days, maybe a week, before it becomes irreparable."

"Then we need to amplify the cleansing," Elias declared. "Like I did in the Root." He thought of plunging his hand into the emerald pool, of becoming a conduit for the pure Echo. But he couldn't do that for the entire ship.

Aris, meanwhile, was meticulously documenting the scars, her researcher's instincts overriding her fear. She pulled out a small, specialized sensor, its readings flickering wildly in the presence of the void-scars. "These aren't just holes," she murmured, tracing faint energy signatures around the corrupted areas. "They're… pathways. Residual conduits of the void's touch. Like an invisible network of infection."

Elias's mind clicked. "If they're pathways, can the Echo flow through them? Can we infuse the entire ship?" He thought of the way the lighthouse had channeled the Echo, becoming a resonating chamber.

Aris's eyes widened. "It's audacious. Potentially suicidal if the ship can't handle the energetic fluctuations. But… if the Echo is truly an affirmation of existence, perhaps it could 'affirm' the ship's molecular structure, essentially making it immune. It would be like… giving the ship an immune system against the void."

"Show me the central systems," Elias said, a plan forming. "The core where the power channels converge. If we can introduce the Echo there, perhaps it will flow through these 'pathways' and cleanse the whole vessel from within."

Kael, the engineer, though still shaken, quickly understood the concept. "The quantum drive core. It distributes energy to every system on board. If you can channel your light through that… it's our best shot."

They descended into the belly of the Serenity, a claustrophobic maze of dark, damaged corridors and sparking conduits. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and burnt electronics. The void-scars here were worse, insidious tendrils of nothingness snaking through wiring and pipes. The temperature dropped abruptly near them, a palpable, chilling cold.

They reached the quantum drive core, a massive, cylindrical chamber, now dark and inert. Aris explained its basic function, its complex energy pathways.

Elias placed the orb against the core. It felt inert, dead. He closed his eyes, extending his consciousness. He felt the cold, lingering imprint of the void throughout the ship, a vast, silent parasitic presence. It was weakening the vessel, preparing it for the final unraveling.

He began to channel the Lighthouse's Heart through the orb, pushing the pure emerald light into the Serenity's core. At first, nothing happened. Then, a faint tremor ran through the massive cylinder. A low, grinding sound began, as if something ancient was being forced awake.

The ship groaned around them, a sound of immense strain. The void-scars on the inner walls flared with a sickly, malevolent light, trying to push back, to resist the infusion of pure existence. The air grew frigid, and the whispers of the Collectors, though distant, seemed to echo in the confined space: No… resist… consume…

"It's working!" Aris cried, pointing at a flickering console nearby. "The energy readings! They're off the charts! It's reacting!"

Elias gritted his teeth, pouring more energy. He felt the pure, vibrant Echo spreading through the ship's internal network, flowing through the void-scars, pushing back the nothingness. It was like watching a wound heal in fast-forward, but on a massive scale.

With a final, shattering crack that echoed through the ship, the largest void-scar on the inner hull near the core simply vanished, replaced by solid, gleaming metal. A wave of warmth washed through the ship, and the air lost its chill.

"Incredible," Aris whispered, awe in her voice. "It's… regenerating the material. It's actively affirming its existence!"

Elias pulled the orb away, breathing heavily, but a profound sense of satisfaction filled him. The ship was not just cleansed; it was reaffirmed. Its very being infused with the Echo. It would be an anchor, a secondary beacon.

But the immediate task wasn't over. Elias still had to consider the unseeable scars. His own.