Chapter Four: Parallel Pulse
Part Five
Date: Maelis 26, Year 204 PCR
Location: Caervale Ridge — Mission Droppoint Alpha
Time: Sunset, pulse fog rolling over lower ravines
The Veilclouds curled low over Caervale like breath being held too long.
Not storm. Not wind.
Just stillness—too quiet for resonance.
Too focused.
Two squads approached the edge of the ridge from opposite paths—neither briefed that the other would be there.
Cantare Unit moved first.
Sylie led with her hand pressed to her pendant, glyph half-glowing as she muttered pulse-stabilizers beneath her breath.
Behind her, Nima munched quietly on some kind of scroll-wrapped dumpling.
Liora was checking her healing inventory again, muttering about "protocol gaps."
Luma had stopped talking entirely—she'd been walking stiff for twenty minutes.
Elari walked barefoot again. No one stopped her.
From the ridge's opposite spine, Staccato Unit appeared.
Mino spotted the movement instantly. Raised a hand.
Vessa flanked left. Kellian didn't draw, but his glyph started flaring faintly.
Rhea stood tall—unshaken. She could feel them.
Torr slowed.
"You seeing what I'm seeing?" Kellian asked under his breath.
"Medic squad," Vessa confirmed.
"No Doctrine sync warning. No relay echo." Mino's voice went tight.
"That's intentional," Rhea murmured.
Sylie and Mino met at the midpoint.
Didn't shake hands.
Didn't bow.
They just watched each other like generals in a war neither had agreed to fight.
"You weren't briefed either," Sylie said.
"Negative," Mino replied. "Pulse beacon auto-redirected three miles out."
"We received a sealed packet five minutes before deploy. No details. No map."
Both turned slightly, scanning the foggy basin beyond the ridge.
The glyph that shimmered in the mist matched neither of their scrolls.
"Echo's in there," Sylie said.
"So are we," Mino answered.
Nima squinted down the ravine.
"Smells like fried crystal down there. That means Echo cooked something bad."
"Or something cooked them," Kellian muttered.
"I'll take bets," Luma said flatly.
Elari raised a hand and pointed—not toward the fog. Toward the sky.
The clouds weren't swirling.
They were pulsing.
Light. Rhythm. Like someone's Veilmark was still casting—over and over again.
"That's not a trace," Elari whispered.
"That's a message."
From the far east, wind carried the faint sound of a roar.
It didn't belong to a Crestborn.
Or a Riftborn.
It was something in between.
"Form task units," Mino called.
"Pulse-lock field protocol. We move silent."
"No beacon. No echo. We find Echo—if there's anything left."
Sylie turned back to her girls.
"This isn't triage," she said. "This is silence protocol."
Luma flared. Nima nodded—mouth full. Liora activated her wrist-bound Veilwrap.
Elari smiled slightly.
"Can we take the pulse?"
"We're not here to take," Sylie said. "We're here to hear what was left behind."
Both squads moved down together.
Separate paths. Same hum ahead.
And none of them noticed…
That the glyph in the mist blinked once.
And changed shape.