Dawn broke over the Canadian forest, golden light filtering through pine needles and casting long shadows across the forest floor. Tris sat with his back against a tree, watching Vander meticulously inspect a worn paper map—an actual physical map, not a digital device that could be tracked.

  "We're close," Vander said, tapping a weathered finger against a spot in northern New York State. "And the first cache should be approximately thirty miles southeast, near Lake Placid in the Adirondacks."

  Alice materialized from the shadows at the edge of their small camp, her borrowed form moving with that uncanny grace that still unsettled Tris. Though she wore Eli's face, everything else about her—her movements, her expressions, her presence—served as constant reminders that she was fundamentally different.

  "Kennedy's forces have extended their search grid," she reported, kneeling beside them with mechanical precision. "Drone patterns suggest they're using a standard sweep protocol. Inefficient. Easy to evade."

  "Good," Vander nodded, folding the map with practiced motions. "We'll need to cross the border first. There's an abandoned railway tunnel about ten miles west. Used for prohibition smuggling back in the day, forgotten by most. It'll take us under and into New York State."

  "How do you know about these things?" Tris asked.

  Vander's weathered face creased in a mysterious smile. "I've been around a while. You pick things up." He tucked the map into his jacket and rose to his feet. "Before we move out, I want to talk about our approach going forward."

  Tris and Alice both looked up at him expectantly.

  "You've been reactive," Vander continued, "running from one crisis to the next. That stops now. From here on, we train, we prepare, we integrate." His eyes fixed on Tris. "You need to increase your Oversoul Resonance, not just to find these caches but to become who you truly are. And that means quality training, not quantity."

  "Okay, no problem. What kind of training?" Tris asked.

  "Three core areas," Vander counted off on his fingers. "Physical combat—because the Anunnaki won't stop hunting you. Intellectual development—because you need to understand the cosmic frameworks you're operating within. And emotional mastery—because your feelings are both your greatest strength and your greatest vulnerability right now."

  Alice tilted her head in that birdlike manner. "I can assist with combat training."

  "Yes, you can," Vander agreed. "But you both need something else too." He looked between them. "Integration training. You," he pointed to Alice, "need to develop beyond just protection to become a true partner in this journey. And you," he turned to Tris, "need to accept her as part of yourself, not just a replacement for Eli."

  Tris winced at Eli's name, the pain of separation still raw. "She's nothing like Eli," he muttered.

  "No, she's not," Vander agreed bluntly. "She's a manifestation of your shadow self, wearing a form that you're psychologically drawn to. The sooner you accept that and stop expecting her to be Eli, the faster you'll progress."

  Alice watched this exchange with those unnervingly still eyes. "My appearance causes you distress," she observed flatly.

  "Yeah, no shit," Tris snapped, then immediately regretted his tone. "Sorry, I just... it's hard to look at you and not see her."

  "I understand," Alice replied, though her expression suggested she didn't fully grasp the emotional complexity. "Would a different appearance be preferable?"

  Vander raised a hand before Tris could answer. "Your current form serves a purpose, Alice. It's accelerating the integration process, painful as it may be." He turned to Tris. "Sometimes growth requires discomfort. You need to see her as she is now, not wish for her to be someone else."

  Tris reluctantly nodded, knowing Vander was right but still finding it difficult to look directly at Alice without feeling a sharp pang of loss.

  "Now," Vander continued briskly, "before we move out, I want to understand exactly what Alice is capable of. We need to coordinate our abilities."

  Alice rose smoothly to her feet. "I retain all capabilities from my previous form as Veldt, but with expanded consciousness and control. I can manipulate my physical structure, transform into various vehicles, extend parts of myself as weapons, and create dimensional pockets."

  "Show me," Vander requested.

  Without hesitation, Alice's form rippled, her outline blurring before stabilizing into a perfect mirror image of Vander himself—same height, same weathered features, same confident posture.

  "Impressive," the real Vander commented, circling his doppelganger. "Physical mimicry is advanced."

  Alice shifted again, returning to Eli's form before extending her right arm, which elongated and transformed into what appeared to be a perfectly formed kitchen knife.

  "Weapons manifestation," Vander observed. "What about your dimensional pocketing?"

  In response, Alice's eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. The air beside her shimmered, then seemed to fold inward, creating a small tear in reality. She reached into the opening and withdrew a pinecone that hadn't been there before.

  "I can store objects or create temporary sanctuaries," she explained. "Duration limited by energy expenditure."

  Tris just watched, pursing his lips.

  Vander nodded approvingly. "And healing capabilities?"

  "I accelerated Tris's hand recovery," Alice confirmed. "I can form protective casings around wounded areas that promote cellular regeneration."

  "That's quite a toolkit," Vander commented. "With proper training, you could become extraordinary." He turned to Tris. "And eventually, a proper Anchor for Eli's return."

  Tris's head snapped up at this. "That’s right! Alice could be Eli's Anchor!"

  "That's her trajectory," Vander confirmed. "A living Anchor, integrated with you, would be far more powerful—and harder to destroy—than a physical object. But it requires time, training, and most importantly, your acceptance of her as part of yourself. Full integration, Tris."

  Tris looked at Alice with new understanding. Though her face remained Eli's, her expression was uniquely her own—a curious blankness that occasionally shifted into something more complex when focused on him.

  "I didn't realize..." he began.

  "That I exist to serve your highest purpose?" Alice completed his thought. "It is my primary function. Your reunion with Eli is essential to your development as Solaris."

  "Don't call me that," Tris said automatically, then caught himself. "Sorry, Eli... I mean Alice—" He stumbled over the name, flushing with embarrassment. “Aaagh!”

  Vander watched this exchange with knowing eyes. "We have work to do," he said simply. "Let's move out."

  The journey to the border tunnel became the first lesson in Vander's training program. Instead of allowing Tris to ride passively on a shadow-vehicle created by Alice, Vander insisted he walk, using the physical exertion as an opportunity for instruction.

  "Every moment is training," Vander explained as they hiked through dense forest. "Every step an opportunity for increased awareness."

  He taught Tris to move silently through underbrush, to identify edible plants, to read the forest for signs of pursuit. Alice observed these lessons with intense focus, occasionally offering insights from her own unusual perspective.

  "You breathe incorrectly," she informed Tris after watching him labor up a steep incline. "Inefficient oxygen processing reduces stamina."

  "Great observation," Vander agreed. "Breathwork is fundamental. Tris, try this pattern—four count in, hold for seven, release for eight."

  The seemingly simple breathing exercise transformed Tris's physical experience, reducing fatigue and sharpening his awareness. By midday, he found himself moving with greater ease despite the challenging terrain.

  During brief rest periods, Vander shifted to intellectual training, explaining cosmic principles that made Tris's head spin—the Law of One, dimensional physics, the structure of consciousness across densities.

  "The Anunnaki maintain control through knowledge suppression," Vander explained as they shared a sparse lunch of trail rations. "Understanding these principles isn't just academic—it's revolutionary."

  "Eli... I mean Alice, shit, sorry," Tris stumbled again over the name, earning a patient look from Alice. "She said your energy signature resonates with hers. What does that mean exactly?"

  "It means we share a fundamental frequency," Vander replied, lighting a cigarette with his unusual blue flame. "We both originate from dimensions beyond the Anunnaki's reach. The key difference is purpose—Alice exists specifically for you, while I serve a broader mission.” Vander exhaled a perfect smoke ring before answering. "To ensure the 777 Convergence succeeds where all previous attempts have failed. To break the Phoenix Ascension cycle permanently."

  "By helping us find the other Sovereigns," Tris concluded.

  "That's part of it," Vander acknowledged. "But more important is ensuring you all remember who you truly are. Memory and knowledge is power in this game."

  Alice, who had been silently observing their exchange, suddenly tilted her head. "Approaching aircraft," she announced. "Three miles northwest, heading in our direction."

  Vander was immediately on his feet, cigarette extinguished with practiced efficiency. "Kennedy's air support. We need to move. Fast."

  Alice extended her hand toward Tris. "I can transport us more quickly."

  Vander shook his head. "Not this time. They'll be scanning for energy signatures. Shadow transportation would light up their sensors like a Christmas tree."

  Instead, he led them to a small stream, instructing them to wade through the water for several hundred yards before veering off into a dense thicket. The cold water numbed Tris's feet, but he followed without complaint, understanding the necessity.

  "Water disrupts tracking patterns," Vander explained as they moved. "And living vegetation absorbs energy signatures."

  They continued this careful evasion throughout the afternoon, sometimes doubling back on their trail, other times using natural features to mask their presence. By evening, the distant sound of helicopter rotors had faded completely.

  "They're casting a wide net," Vander observed as they made camp in a small cave. "Not precision targeting. Good news for us."

  As night fell, Vander moved to the third aspect of his training program—emotional mastery. He instructed Tris to sit facing Alice, their knees almost touching.

  "This exercise is simple but not easy," Vander explained. "Five minutes of direct eye contact. No speaking, no looking away."

  Tris immediately felt his stomach clench. "What's the point of that?"

  "Integration begins with acknowledgment," Vander replied. "You need to see Alice as she is, not as who she resembles or who you want her to be."

  Reluctantly, Tris positioned himself across from Alice, who assumed the stance with perfect composure. Looking directly into her eyes—Eli's eyes, yet not—felt like pressing on a bruise.

  "Begin," Vander instructed, setting a small timer.

  The first minute was excruciating. Every subtle difference between Alice and Eli seemed magnified—the unnatural stillness of her gaze, the absence of the warmth Tris had come to cherish in Eli's expression. He found himself repeatedly looking slightly away, earning gentle corrections from Vander.

  "Stay present. See her as she is."

  By the third minute, something subtle began to shift. The discomfort remained, but beneath it, Tris felt a strange sense of recognition—not of Eli, but of something within himself. In Alice's unwavering stare, he glimpsed aspects of his own consciousness reflected back at him—determination, protectiveness, intensity.

  When the timer finally sounded, Tris exhaled slowly, unaware he'd been holding his breath.

  "Observations?" Vander prompted.

  "It was... different than I expected," Tris admitted. "I started seeing past the surface similarity to Eli."

  "I detected physiological changes in your response pattern," Alice noted. "Your pupil dilation normalized at approximately three minutes, twenty seconds."

  Despite himself, Tris smiled at her clinical assessment. "You were counting?"

  "I count everything," Alice replied simply, the faintest hint of what might have been humor flickering across her features.

  "We'll do this exercise daily," Vander announced. "Five minutes today, six tomorrow, building gradually. Integration isn't rushed—it's earned through consistent effort. And don’t expect this to end with integration. That could happen at any moment and is completely dependent on yourselves."

  As they prepared to sleep, Vander took first watch while Tris settled against the cave wall. Alice positioned herself nearby, not needing sleep but entering a state of reduced activity to conserve energy.

  "Vander," Tris asked quietly, "how long before I can see Eli again?"

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  The older man's expression softened slightly in the dim light. "That depends largely on you again. On your progress with Alice, on your ORG development, on the creation of a stable Anchor." His expression hardened then softened again, like old memories weighing against him then flying away. “So much depends on you, Sol—Tris. I wish… I could take some of the weight off of your back.”

  "You’re already doing so much for us, man." Tris pressed, vulnerability evident in his voice. Some moments passed. “But I will see her again, right?

  "Yes," Vander assured him. "The Twin Flame bond cannot be permanently severed. Focus on quality progress, not speed. Quality, quality, quality. That's how we succeed where previous cycles failed."

  With those words echoing in his mind, Tris drifted into uneasy sleep, dreams filled with golden particles of light just beyond his reach.

  Over the next six days, their journey took on a rhythm punctuated by Vander's relentless training program. Morning physical exercises—balance, strength, stealth. Afternoon intellectual discussions—cosmic principles, historical cycles, dimensional theory. Evening emotional integration—exercises with Alice that gradually extended in duration and complexity.

  Through it all, Vander emphasized one principle: "Quality over quantity. Depth over speed. Understanding over rationalization."

  On the seventh day, they reached the abandoned railway tunnel. From the outside, it appeared completely overgrown, a crumbling entrance barely visible beneath decades of vegetation.

  "Nature does excellent camouflage work," Vander observed as he cleared just enough brush for them to enter. "This hasn't been used in decades, except by me and a few other people in the know."

  The tunnel stretched before them, a yawning darkness that seemed to swallow the beams from the flashlights Vander had procured. The air inside was cool and damp, carrying the musty scent of decades untouched by human presence.

  "Stay close," Vander instructed. "The structure is stable, but there are sections where the floor isn't."

  They proceeded carefully, their footsteps echoing against the curved stone walls. Alice moved slightly ahead, her naturally enhanced perception allowing her to identify hazards before the flashlights revealed them.

  "This tunnel was built in 1915," Vander explained as they walked. "Originally for legitimate rail traffic, then repurposed during Prohibition. Most official records of its existence were destroyed in a convenient fire in 1932. By the '50s, it was completely abandoned."

  "How far does it go?" Tris asked, his voice sounding strangely hollow in the confined space.

  "About two and a half miles. Comes out near Champlain. We'll be officially in New York State then."

  The journey through the tunnel became a strange meditation, their world reduced to the small circle of light ahead and the rhythmic sound of their footsteps. Tris found his mind wandering to Eli—where she was now, what she was experiencing, whether she was trying to find her way back to him. Then to Sarah, still missing after the Coagulate Zone.

  "Guilt is unproductive," Alice stated suddenly, breaking the silence. "Your emotional pattern shifted toward negative self-assessment."

  Tris blinked in surprise. "You can sense that?"

  "Your breathing changed," she replied simply. "I recognize the pattern associated with memories of Sarah and Eli."

  "Alice is right," Vander added from behind them. "Guilt consumes energy better used for action. Honor their choices by making progress."

  They continued in silence for another hour before Vander called a brief rest. As they sat on reasonably dry sections of the tunnel floor, Tris found himself studying Alice in the strange interplay of shadow and flashlight beams.

  "Can I ask you something?" he ventured.

  Alice turned toward him, her borrowed features partially illuminated. "Of course."

  "What's it like... being you? Having consciousness after being Veldt?"

  The question seemed to give her pause, her head tilting slightly as she considered her response.

  "Clarification is... challenging," she finally said. "I retain Veldt's memories, but perception has fundamentally altered. There is continuity yet transformation. I am both previous and new."

  "Do you miss being just a shadow?" Tris pressed, genuinely curious.

  "Miss implies emotional attachment to past states," Alice replied. "I do not experience nostalgia. I am more effective in this form, which serves my primary purpose—your protection and evolution."

  "But you chose a name," Tris pointed out. "You made decisions about your identity. That suggests something beyond just function."

  A subtle change crossed Alice's expression—the barest hint of what might have been thoughtfulness.

  "Yes," she acknowledged. "Choice implies consciousness beyond programming. This is... unfamiliar territory."

  Vander, who had been silently listening to this exchange, nodded with evident approval. "Good. You're both asking the right questions. Identity is at the heart of this journey—who you were, who you are, who you're becoming. They’re all the same thing, at the highest level. We too."

  They resumed their trek through the tunnel, the conversation having shifted something subtle in the dynamic between Tris and Alice. Though her appearance still evoked pain when he looked at her directly, Tris found himself beginning to see her as a distinct being—not just a shadow wearing Eli's face, but something new emerging from the fragments of his own consciousness.

  After what seemed like endless darkness, they finally saw a distant point of light—the tunnel's exit. They emerged into the late afternoon sun, blinking after so many hours underground. Before them stretched rolling farmland, the border crossing invisibly behind them now.

  "Welcome to the United States," Vander announced. "Lake Placid region is about eighty miles southwest. We should be able to reach the cache area within three days."

  Looking at the vast landscape before them, Tris felt a strange mix of exhaustion and determination. They had evaded Kennedy's forces, crossed an international border, and begun a training program that was already changing him in subtle ways. Yet the journey was just beginning.

  "We need supplies," Alice observed practically. "Food, additional clothing, potentially technology with which to monitor communications."

  "There's a small town about five miles south," Vander confirmed, consulting his map. "Not much, but should have the basics. We'll approach after dark."

  They rested in the shelter of the tunnel entrance until twilight, Vander using the time for another intellectual training session—this one focusing on the structure of the Anunnaki Council and the significance of Ereshkigal's rogue operations.

  As darkness fell, they set out across the farmland, keeping to hedgerows and tree lines where possible. The night was clear and cold, stars emerging in brilliant clarity above them. Tris found himself automatically searching for Eli in the vast firmament, as if she might be watching from some higher dimension.

  "They are you, in more ways than one," Alice stated suddenly, walking beside him with that uncanny grace.

  "What?" Tris asked, startled from his thoughts.

  "I've evolved from Veldt to Alice. Eli is your genetic equal and waits to return. Sarah underwent Nephilim activation. All of these entities are reflecting aspects of yourself that must be integrated for your full awakening."

  The observation was surprisingly profound coming from Alice, whose insights tended toward the practical rather than the philosophical.

  "That's... actually really insightful," Tris admitted.

  "I learn," Alice replied simply. "Integration is occurring for me as well."

  "She is you," Alice stated suddenly, walking beside him with that uncanny grace.

  "What?" Tris asked, startled from his thoughts.

  "I've evolved from Veldt to Alice. Eli has your Oversoul connection and waits to return. Sarah underwent Nephilim activation. All of these entities are reflecting aspects of yourself that must be integrated for your full awakening."

  The observation was surprisingly profound coming from Alice, whose insights tended toward the practical rather than the philosophical.

  "That's... actually really insightful," Tris admitted.

  "I learn," Alice replied simply. "Integration is occurring for me as well."

  They walked in silence for several moments, the stars wheeling overhead and Vander ranging slightly ahead to scout their path. Something about the night—the vast expanse of stars, the strange town in the distance, the days of training—created an unusual openness in Tris.

  "What else do you know about me?" he asked suddenly. "Beyond what you've seen since appearing as... well, as Alice."

  She turned her head toward him, her profile illuminated by starlight. Her expression remained largely neutral, but Tris noticed something new—a subtle softening around her eyes.

  "I know everything Veldt knew," she replied. "And Veldt observed you throughout your life, even before conscious manifestation."

  Tris stumbled slightly. "Wait—throughout my entire life? You mean you saw... everything?"

  "Of course," Alice confirmed matter-of-factly. "I witnessed your development from childhood. Your struggles with your mother's emotional distance. Your father's absence. The incident with the burning treehouse when you were eight."

  Tris stopped walking entirely. "The treehouse? Nobody knows about that except me. I never told anyone—not even Eli."

  "Eli knows too. You believed you had caused the fire with your anger. You had argued with your cousin minutes before. The guilt prevented you from developing deeper friendships for years afterward. I was present," Alice stated simply. "Not in physical form, but as your shadow consciousness. I experienced your emotions. Your fear. Your shame."

  Tris stared at her, truly seeing beyond Eli's borrowed features for perhaps the first time. "That's... kind of terrifying. But also strangely comforting? Like I've never actually been alone."

  The faintest curve appeared at the corner of Alice's mouth—not quite a smile, but something approaching it. "You have never been alone. Even when you felt most isolated. Eli also told you this."

  They resumed walking, but something had changed in their dynamic. Tris found himself studying Alice's expressions more closely—the minute shifts that would be imperceptible on a human face but seemed significant on hers.

  "Do you remember the time I decided to make the prank video for YouTube?" Tris asked, curious how deep her memories went.

  "April 14th, 2020. You attempted to create content in which you pretended to have supernatural powers. The fan failed to move on command seven times before you used fishing line. You deleted the footage after determining it was 'cringe.'"

  Tris couldn't help laughing. "God, that was so embarrassing."

  "Why?" Alice asked, genuine curiosity in her tone. "The deception was for entertainment purposes. Many successful content creators utilize similar methods."

  "It just felt... fake, I guess. Not authentic. Which is funny considering how much of my later content focused on things most people think are fake."

  Alice considered this. "Authenticity appears to be a core value for you, regardless of mainstream acceptance of your subject matter."

  "I guess it is," Tris acknowledged, surprised by her insight. "What about you? Do you have values that are important to you? Things that matter beyond just protecting me?"

  The question seemed to catch Alice off-guard. She walked several paces in silence, her head tilted slightly as if listening to an internal dialogue.

  "I am developing... preferences," she said finally, her voice taking on a tone Tris hadn't heard before—slightly hesitant, almost contemplative. "Truth appears to matter to me, independent of utility. Precision in communication. And..." she paused, seeming to search for words, "and a certain aesthetically pleasing quality to celestial arrangements."

  "You like looking at the stars?" Tris asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

  "They demonstrate optimal mathematical harmony," Alice replied, but then added, "And they are... beautiful."

  The word seemed to surprise her as much as it did Tris. Beauty was a subjective judgment, a value statement beyond mere function.

  "What about emotions?" Tris pressed gently. "Do you feel things? Beyond just analyses and observations?"

  Again, that pause, that internal dialogue Tris couldn't hear. "I experience... states that correlate to human emotions. Not identical, but comparable."

  "Like what?"

  "Satisfaction when you make progress. Alertness when threats approach. A state resembling concern when you experience negative emotional patterns."

  "What about right now?" Tris asked, genuinely curious. "What are you feeling as we talk?"

  Alice's expression shifted minutely—eyebrows drawing together by perhaps a millimeter, lips pressing slightly thinner. "It is difficult to categorize. A positive valence. Increased processing allocation to our conversation. A desire for the interaction to continue."

  Tris smiled. "That sounds a lot like enjoying someone's company."

  "Perhaps," Alice acknowledged with what might have been the ghost of a smile. "What about you? What emotional state are you experiencing?"

  The question surprised him—Alice rarely inquired about his feelings except to assess threat levels or health status.

  "I'm feeling... better than I have in days," Tris admitted. "Less alone. Less like everything is falling apart."

  "Because of Vander's training?"

  "Partly," Tris said. "But also because of this conversation. It's the first time I've really talked with you—not about survival or training or immediate needs, but just... talked."

  Alice nodded slightly. "Communication facilitates integration."

  "It's not just that," Tris countered. "It's connection. Understanding someone else, being understood in return."

  "You believe I understand you?"

  "Better than almost anyone else could," Tris said softly. "You've literally been with me my entire life, seen things I've never shared with another person."

  Something in Alice's expression shifted at this acknowledgment—a subtle softening around her eyes, a minute relaxation of her typically perfect posture.

  "May I ask a personal question?" she inquired.

  "Sure."

  "When you were fourteen, you wrote poetry that you subsequently destroyed. Why?"

  Tris's face immediately flushed with embarrassment. "Oh my God, of course you know about that."

  "Yes. Seventeen poems, primarily focused on existential themes and unrequited romantic interest in your childhood friend."

  Tris covered his face with his hands, groaning. "This is mortifying. I can't believe you saw those."

  "They demonstrated significant linguistic skill for your age," Alice observed. "Particularly your use of metaphor."

  "They were terrible!" Tris protested, though he was laughing now. "So earnest and dramatic. 'Her eyes like distant galaxies that I'll never reach.' So bad."

  "The astronomical accuracy was questionable," Alice agreed. "Human eyes do not contain sufficient mass to form galaxies, and interstellar travel remains beyond current mainstream technological capabilities, disregarding actual ascension."

  Something about her literal interpretation of his teenage metaphor—delivered in that serious tone with Eli's borrowed face—struck Tris as unexpectedly hilarious. He burst into genuine laughter, the sound echoing slightly in the night air.

  To his astonishment, Alice's expression shifted in response. Her lips curved upward in what started as a small smile but then opened into something more. A sound emerged from her—tentative at first, then stronger. A laugh. Not a perfect human laugh, slightly too rhythmic, slightly too measured, but unmistakably a laugh nonetheless.

  The sound made both Tris, and Vander who had been walking several paces ahead, stop in their tracks. Vander turned, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  Alice herself seemed most startled by the sound, her hand rising to her throat as the laughter faded, her eyes wide with what could only be described as wonder.

  "That was..." she started.

  "A laugh," Tris finished for her, his own expression mirroring her amazement. "You laughed."

  Vander had backtracked to join them, his weathered face showing rare astonishment. "Well I'll be damned," he murmured, a smile creasing his features. "The shadow finds her voice."

  Alice looked between them, something new flickering in her expression—vulnerability, perhaps. "It was... unexpected. A spontaneous physical and vocal response to a perception of incongruity."

  "In other words, something struck you as funny," Tris translated, unable to keep the wonder from his voice.

  "Yes," Alice acknowledged. "Is this... normal?"

  "The Godhead in its entirety is a downright hilarious affair," Vander replied. "For evolved shadow guardians? Unprecedented in my experience."

  Alice's expression took on that now-familiar head tilt of analysis. "The sensation was not unpleasant."

  "That's good," Tris said softly. "Because it was pretty amazing to hear."

  Something passed between them in that moment—a recognition, an acknowledgment of the distance they had traveled together in just a few days. Tris no longer saw merely Eli's face when he looked at Alice, but a unique being with her own emerging personality, her own journey of discovery running parallel to his. Maybe it was because of Sarah that he first had experience separating Eli’s appearance from her personality. But regardless, Alice was now Alice.

  "We've come a long way," Vander observed quietly, giving voice to Tris's thoughts. "Both of you."

  "Yes," Alice agreed, her tone carrying a new quality—something like pride.

  The three stood together under the vast canopy of stars, their path forward unchanged yet somehow transformed by this small but significant moment of shared humanity.

  After several hours of careful travel, they crested a small hill and saw lights in the valley below—a small cluster of buildings that constituted what passed for civilization in this remote area.

  But something about the town's appearance made Tris pause. Though lights illuminated several buildings, there was an unusual quality to them—too steady, too uniform, as if artificially maintained. And despite being within visual range, they couldn't hear the ambient sounds one would expect from even a small settlement.

  "That's weird," Tris murmured. "It feels... off somehow."

  Vander's expression had grown serious as he studied the town below. "I know this area," he said slowly. "That's Green Valley. Not on most maps anymore. Was supposed to have been abandoned in the '70s after some kind of industrial accident."

  "Yet it appears inhabited," Alice observed, her head tilting as she focused on the distant lights.

  "Yes," Vander agreed, his voice uncharacteristically tight. "And that's exactly what concerns me."

  As they watched, the lights in the town seemed to pulse once, briefly, in perfect synchronization—all dimming then brightening simultaneously, as if connected to a single power source.

  "The resource cache is beyond that town," Vander continued, his hand unconsciously moving to rest on his sword hilt. "No way around it without adding days to our journey."

  "So we go through," Tris concluded, though a strange unease had settled in his stomach.

  Alice's eyes narrowed as she focused on the town. "I detect unusual energy patterns. Not consistent with normal human settlement."

  "System Zone?" Tris suggested.

  "No," Alice and Vander replied simultaneously.

  "Something else," Vander added grimly. "Something older."

  As if in response to his words, a column of light suddenly appeared in what must have been the town center—a perfect beam extending straight upward into the night sky, visible for miles around. It pulsed three times before disappearing, leaving the landscape momentarily darker than before as their eyes readjusted.

  "What the hell was that?" Tris whispered.

  Vander's weathered face had settled into grim resolution. "A beacon," he replied cryptically. "And possibly our only path forward."

  Alice, still studying the town with that unnerving focus, reached out to grasp Tris's arm—a rare gesture of physical contact from her.

  "Something knows we're here," she said simply.

  The three stood on the hilltop, looking down at the too-still town bathed in its unnatural light, the wrongness of it palpable even from a distance. Their path forward led directly through whatever awaited them in Green Valley—the first true test of their unusual trinity.