A New Beginning

From the Diary of Prim Historian, Ramua Nid, Year 370 After the Awakening of the Werren:

The technology of the Werren was gifted to humanity as an invaluable treasure, its worth not only derived from its functionality but, above all, from the sacred harmony it carries within. Any interference that disrupts the integrity of their gifts is therefore considered heresy and a direct attack on the sovereignty of Werren wisdom. It is not humanity's role to create something new or untested, but to honor the perfection that has been bestowed upon them. Every attempt at change is seen as an act of ingratitude, a sign of the recipient’s lack of respect toward the giver.

Ela, Beacon, City of Prim

Year 382 After the Awakening of the Werren, 45th Day of Dryseason

Ela leaned against the glass observation terrace just below the peak of the Beacon. She loved this place, where she could watch the entire city of Prim unfold before her. She could feel the pulse of the city itself, living its own life down below. Until recently, she had been a part of it—but now? Now she was here, at the very top.

Her eyes instinctively found the area where, just half a year ago, the ruins of the Institute had stood. The place where she had once lived and worked. Now, only a freshly leveled surface remained, along with a towering monument bearing 1,896 names. That was exactly how many had perished that day in the fire and beneath the collapsing rubble.

Meco, the small ornament she wore on her ear, positioned to touch her temple, vibrated—a reminder that the time had come. She touched the spiral-like structure to silence it and sighed. The mental communicator was supposed to link its wearer to the Beacon’s system, but so far, she had not been able to figure out how to make it work.

“She is not ready yet; it is too soon for her,” she heard the words of Tonot, the Werren to whom she was to become a Mediator in the future.

He was not pleased with her presence. However, Nylen, the one responsible for bringing her here, dismissed his concerns.

“She can handle it.”

And so she tried—but for now, it seemed she was merely moving from one failure to the next, with few successes in between. She suspected it was only a matter of time before the Circle decided that accepting her had been a mistake.

She tried not to dwell on it too much. If her time at the Beacon was only temporary, she intended to make the most of it. Because she knew this opportunity would not come again.

But for now, she had duties to attend to, and there was no choice but to go where she was expected.

The technical room, where her steps were leading, lay deep within the very heart of the Beacon. The floor beneath Ela vibrated gently, as if it were alive. The mechanical rhythms of the internal systems—unseen yet ever-present—reminded her of how little she truly understood. She walked down a long corridor until she stopped before a large chamber of polished metal and glass.

Inside stood a Werren.

His body was massive, yet its shape closely resembled that of a human. The smooth surface of his metal casing reflected the light as if freshly polished. His face, shaped with human-like features, was motionless—a mask reminiscent of a death cast. His eyes were hollow. For now.

Ela sighed nervously and placed her palm on the panel beside the chamber to initiate the final synchronization process.

With a hiss, the chamber opened. The mask moved. Tonot opened his eyes—two glowing lenses that fixed on her with unsettling intensity. As if he could see more than he was supposed to.

"Good morning, Mediator Ela," he spoke in a voice that did not match his appearance at all.

It was soft, velvety. Unexpectedly... human.

Ela stared, entranced. She still couldn’t get used to the presence of real Werren. He stood right in front of her. What had fascinated her since childhood—her mother’s endless stories about the mysterious protectors—was now within reach. Was he truly a living being?

"I'm still not a Mediator," she replied with an indulgent smile, just as she always did when he addressed her with a title she had yet to earn.

She knew he was teasing her, something that had surprised her in the early days. She had never imagined these beings could have a sense of humor.

"Everything comes in time," he smiled, almost condescendingly, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Seeing that supposedly metallic face shift in perfect imitation of human expressions was as unnatural as it was unsettling. But she couldn’t afford to dwell on her discomfort, because the Werren had already set off with purposeful strides out of the technical room, leaving Ela with no choice but to follow. She cursed his long gait internally, which forced her to keep an uncomfortably fast pace.

"Councilor Brooks is on his way to the Beacon," Tonot informed her as he headed toward the central hall. "It seems he wants to speak with us directly, and it looks like the Circle has scheduled his meeting for this very morning."

Ela nodded in acknowledgment. She had been informed of the meeting beforehand so she could prepare, but she still had no idea what was expected of her.

"Do you have all the necessary information on the Councilor?"

"Not much," she replied with confidence, making sure to convey that she had truly put effort into her preparation. "He took office very recently, after Councilor Larny was killed in the attack on the Terraces. He inherited his agenda, but it seems his stance does not align with that of his predecessor. He will want to take his own path."

"New blood," the Werren huffed in amusement—another almost human gesture that caught her attention. "Always eager to prove to everyone that they are better than those who came before them."

"Do you have any idea what to expect?" she asked, hoping the Werren would provide enough insight for her to handle her first diplomatic meeting with dignity.

"He will ask questions," Tonot stated dryly, "and we will answer. But it is likely he won't like the answers. That is usually the case—until they get used to it."

Ela stepped into the central hall just a pace behind the Werren. The room was oval, free of sharp corners, as was customary in the Beacon. A soft light radiated from both the floor and walls, reflecting the mood of the space in warm golden hues. Yet, despite this warmth, the atmosphere felt cold. Ela had the distinct feeling that the room itself could sense the unease approaching with the arrival of their visitor.

The doors slid open, and Councilor Brooks entered.

He was stocky, his sharp features and steady gaze freezing Ela in place for a brief moment. He was not a man who wasted time on unnecessary pleasantries. His first glance fell upon Tonot, yet instead of surprise or reverence, his expression carried nothing but icy detachment.

"The Beacon," he murmured. "A monument from the outside. A mystery from within."

Tonot inclined his head slightly. "Congratulations on your election, Councilor Brooks, and welcome, on behalf of the Circle."

Brooks did not respond immediately. He slowly scrutinized Tonot with his gaze before shifting it smoothly to Ela, standing just behind him. It seemed to intrigue him that she remained silent, as it was customary for Mediators to lead such meetings. Yet, he let it pass without comment, merely nodding in acknowledgment.

"Thank you. I hope our meeting will provide mutually useful answers."

"That is exactly our intent," Tonot assured him calmly.

Ela stood beside them in silence, watching every movement of both the Councilor and the Werren. The room was quiet, but within her Meco, she could sense faint tremors. She knew that if she had been able to synchronize with the small technical ornament, she would likely have been able to perceive Tonot’s true emotions now. She would have been linked to him so deeply that leading this negotiation in his name would have been effortless.

But the Meco was still nothing more than a useless trinket to her, and so she had no choice but to rely on Tonot’s demeanor—perhaps he was, after all, slightly unsettled by the Councilor's visit.

"I admit, I had certain doubts when I took over Councilor Larny’s agenda," Brooks began. His voice was formal, but Ela sensed a hidden sharpness beneath it. "The Beacon has always been shrouded in an aura of mystery. A peculiar... autonomy, which at times feels too detached from the reality unfolding in the city below you."

"The Beacon merely fulfills its purpose," Tonot replied, his voice retaining its smoothness. "We have our own objectives, but they are not at odds with the interests of your people."

"That’s interesting," Brooks continued, as if he hadn’t heard Tonot’s response at all. "Because some of the projects I found in the records are... unclear."

"Such as?"

"For example, the Modificant Project. Officially presented as a mission to save human lives. That does sound quite generous—if not for the troubling rumors surrounding it."

Tonot smiled. It was a peculiar smile, barely perceptible, yet it felt meticulously rehearsed. "Rumors are the currency of the human world, Councilor. If gossip ceased to exist, humanity would perish from the lack of it. But if I may, I’d be happy to present you with facts to put your concerns at ease."

Brooks raised an eyebrow. "Facts? The fact is that something strikingly similar to your Modificants was spotted in the South. And they certainly drew attention."

Ela inhaled sharply, but Tonot held her back with a seemingly insignificant gesture of his hand.

"If you are referring to our volunteers who chose to serve in crisis areas—then yes, some of our patients have decided to use their second chance to help others. The Prim Volunteer Corps has certainly welcomed their willingness to return to society."

"Volunteers?" Brooks' voice was icy, though he still maintained a polite tone. "And don’t you find it strange that these so-called volunteers exhibit traits far beyond what would be considered ordinary life-saving interventions?"

Tonot paused for a moment, as if carefully weighing his words.

"Councilor Brooks, our technology is advanced. We save lives that would otherwise have no hope. Yes, some of them gain abilities that allow them to live... let’s say, an enhanced, more complete life. But we are not a military institution. Our primary goal has always been to preserve life. What a volunteer chooses to do with it afterward is no longer in our hands."

The councilor remained silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words. Then he leaned slightly toward Tonot.

"Do any of you here realize that I am doing everything in my power to end the conflict in the South? And that these people who have passed through your laboratory will eventually become part of our world? How is our society supposed to cope with individuals who are already being called Alters? Are you even capable of foreseeing the true consequences of what you’re doing here?"

Tonot’s gaze shifted slightly. Ela could feel that something in the councilor’s tone had struck a nerve in the Werren.

"Councilor, the Beacon has always served itself first and foremost—so in theory, your questions shouldn’t concern us in the slightest. But you might be surprised. They do concern us. It is in our absolute interest that Prim and its people live in balance. Our project is not designed to become a problem in the future. Quite the opposite. We want everyone to benefit from it. And rest assured, our oversight is meticulous. There is no room for error."

"You say that now. But I hope that when it does turn out to be a mistake, you will have the decency to face it head-on," the councilor countered, and Ela was startled by his complete lack of deference. She had never imagined someone would dare speak to the Werren as an equal. And judging by Tonot’s brief hesitation, even he seemed taken aback by Brooks’ approach.

"You are well aware that we are not obligated to answer to anyone, though I sense quite the opposite in your tone," Tonot remarked dryly. "Still… if you have doubts, we are more than willing to dispel them. After all, maintaining the best possible relations with the Council is in our interest as well."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Brooks tilted his head slightly in curiosity.

"We can start by giving you a tour of our laboratories—showing you the truth. The real one. No embellishments."

For a moment, Brooks hesitated. But then he nodded.

"I would appreciate that. Will I be able to speak with these people?"

Tonot inclined his head slightly.

"Of course."

***

Ela led Councilor Brooks through the corridors of the Beacon. Tonot followed a few steps behind them, his metal feet producing a quiet, rhythmic sound.

"The laboratories are located in the lower levels of the tower," Ela remarked, breaking the silence that had settled between them. Brooks remained silent, his gaze darting along the walls. Here, the surfaces were simpler, neutral, yet still bore the unmistakable signature of Werren craftsmanship. The smooth, glass-like panels reflected a golden light, but unlike the central hall, the atmosphere here was even colder.

"It feels like another world," Brooks finally spoke, his tone cautious. "The Beacon gives the impression that it decides for itself what it will show you... and what it will keep hidden."

Ela had no response to that—because he was right. The Beacon was far from ordinary. Even she felt that it was alive, in its own strange, indefinable way.

The laboratory doors slid open, revealing an expansive space. The hall was divided into multiple zones, each serving a distinct function. The nearest section most closely resembled a conventional medical ward—beds, monitoring equipment, personnel dressed in pristine white uniforms.

"This area is designated for new patients and emergency cases," Tonot explained calmly, without turning to face them. "Those who arrive in critical condition receive immediate care here. Without this phase, none of them would survive."

Brooks stepped closer to one of the beds. Lying on it was a man whose skin appeared burned, torn, and crudely stitched back together. Beside him, a machine blinked in quiet intervals, tracking his vital functions.

"This man," Tonot continued, "came to us with severe burns, organ failure, and fatal infections. Without our technology, he would not be alive."

Brooks' gaze lingered on one of the monitors. The symbols flashing across the display meant nothing to him, but their precise rhythm visibly unsettled him. He turned back to Tonot, and Ela could detect a faint flicker of uncertainty in him.

"I must admit, I expected something... different," he finally said, his voice carefully neutral. "The Beacon is surrounded by so many stories. Perhaps I allowed myself to be swayed by unrealistic expectations."

Tonot looked at him—not with the vacant stare of a machine, but with an expression that carried an unusual depth.

"Stories are powerful tools. They often shape your imagination in ways reality cannot fulfill. But just as often, they act as a mirror—one that reflects more about those who spread them than about what they claim to describe."

Brooks nodded, but this time, his gaze had grown more guarded.

"And yet," he murmured, "some stories seem far too specific to be dismissed as mere fiction."

Tonot’s smile was barely perceptible, but it carried a subtle hint of superiority.

"Councilor, you are here to witness the truth. And the truth is this: The Beacon is a place where miracles become reality. Every patient here is proof of what can be achieved when one dares to push beyond the limits of the human body. Because without that... even the finest technology would be worthless."

"The limits of possibility," Brooks repeated slowly. "That sounds noble. But what does it really mean?"

"It means exactly what you see," Tonot replied. "People who were at death’s door are given a second chance. And we allow them to return to their lives."

Brooks’ eyes narrowed. "And do they always return? As the same people?"

Tonot tilted his head. His movement was so smooth it almost seemed human.

"Councilor, people change every day. The experiences we endure shape us, whether we want them to or not. Or would you say that you are the same man you were before the attack on Prim?"

Ela felt the atmosphere tighten. Brooks inhaled, but he seemed to decide against engaging in the game Tonot was playing. Instead, he stepped toward another bed, where an elderly man lay connected to a respirator. He spoke with him quietly for a moment before moving on, asking brief questions to a few other patients. Ela watched as Brooks nodded carefully at their responses, but his expression remained wary, scrutinizing every detail. It was clear he was wondering whether he had really seen everything they intended to show him.

"I acknowledge that your technology and procedures are... impressive," he finally said when he returned to them. "But I still have the impression that the Beacon holds more than what I have seen today."

Tonot inclined his head slightly.

"I can confirm with certainty that it does, Councilor. But the knowledge and technology of the Beacon are not always meant to be understood by just anyone who walks by. What we have shown you is everything you need to see—to know that the Beacon serves for the benefit of your people."

Ela observed Tonot’s composed demeanor, yet something in his tone unsettled her. The Werren were masters of diplomacy, and yet she could feel that Brooks’ questions had touched on something sensitive. If Brooks had doubts, she was beginning to believe they were not unfounded.

As they made their way back through the main corridor, Brooks’ pace had slowed. He took his time, his gaze lingering on every detail around him. The walls, their smooth surfaces reflecting the dim, golden light, appeared empty—perfectly neutral. Yet he looked as if he were trying to see through them, to uncover whatever lay hidden beyond. It was clear that his visit had not satisfied him, that he had been hoping for something more.

When they finally reached the hall, Brooks was the first to break the silence.

"I must thank you for your cooperation. This has been… informative," he said, adjusting his cuffs in a motion that Ela recognized as a subtle attempt to mask his unease.

Tonot halted and turned toward the councilor.

"We are pleased to hear that. Our goal is always to demonstrate that our work is transparent—within reason—and serves the greater good."

Brooks’ eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, though his voice remained as steady as before.

"Transparent. That’s a good word. Though I have the feeling it means something different here than it does where I come from."

Tonot smiled faintly.

"Perhaps. But the Beacon is, and always will be, a place that offers hope to those who have lost it. I believe this will not be our last meeting, Councilor Brooks."

As he stepped into the elevator, ready to descend from the heights of the Beacon back into the streets of Prim, Brooks’ gaze flicked—just for a fraction of a second—back toward the laboratory doors.

It was barely a moment, but Ela caught it.

And as the elevator doors closed, she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Brooks was taking away from this visit. And whether he would start looking for answers elsewhere.

"That was… a successful meeting, don’t you think?" she said uncertainly.

Tonot turned to her, his gaze deep and unreadable.

"That depends on how you define success."

Ela hesitated. "Do you think he believes you?"

"It doesn’t matter." Tonot turned away, his steps just as steady and assured as ever.

"Our position does not depend on belief. We are here to lead. And those who look up to us from below should never question that. Try to remember that, Ela. Next time, it will be your responsibility to remind the Councilor."

With those words, he left her standing alone in the middle of the hall.

She shifted uneasily, a deep sense of inadequacy gnawing at her. She should be prepared. She should understand what was happening.

But instead, she felt like she was wandering through fog—without guidance, without the ability to fully grasp what she had just witnessed.

And every word Brooks had spoken, every doubt Tonot had to counter and dismantle, felt like an unspoken accusation, aimed directly at her.

She should have led the meeting today.

But she hadn’t.

She couldn’t.

Meco hummed softly against her ear again, as if mocking her incompetence. With a frustrated motion, she ripped it off.

If she could control it, maybe she would have understood today’s events far better.

She stared down at the small ornament in her palm, fighting the urge to crush it.

How many times had she tried?

How many times had she failed?

If she didn’t fix this, she would never pass the trials.

And without the trials…

She shook her head, defeated, and headed for the one place in the Beacon where at least someone was trying to find answers to her problems.

***

"It still doesn't work," Ela announced as she stepped into the small workshop and handed her Meco across the table to Vin, a young technician.

He glanced up from the tiny components laid out on his workstation, squinting at her through his magnifying lenses.

"Hello to you too," he remarked dryly.

"I'm telling you, it's a piece of junk," she sighed, dropping into the seat across from him.

"Junk? It works for everyone else. You're the only one having problems," he countered, securing the Meco into a diagnostic device. "Did you even try those meditations?"

"I'm not wasting my time staring at a wall," she snapped, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe you should," he muttered, already focused back on his work. "Maybe you're just too uptight."

"Me? Uptight? Yeah, right." She crossed her arms in mock indignation and watched as the diagnostic device slowly initiated its scan. Symbols—completely incomprehensible to her—began appearing on the screen, and the waiting was already starting to bore her. She glanced at Vin, who was once again completely absorbed in his delicate repairs.

"So, how did you even end up in the Beacon?" she asked, more to break the silence than out of actual curiosity.

Vin straightened slightly, hesitating for a moment, as if he were unsure how much to say.

"They pulled me out of jail," he admitted at last.

Ela's eyes widened. "As in actual prison?"

"Yeah. Bars, guards, and the whole deal. Not something you'd want."

"And what did you do?" she pressed. "Must have been something serious if they locked you up."

"I was hybridizing machines," he replied casually, already turning back to his components as if what he’d just said was the most normal thing in the world.

"I took old, broken tech and turned it into something new. Sometimes it had a different function than it was meant to—depending on what the client paid for."

"That's forbidden?"

"Officially, yeah. The rules are strict. Everything the Werren gave us has to stay as it is. But I never really cared much about that."

Ela realized that there were many rules she had no idea about. The people of Karhen Rouz had always avoided Werren technology—that was the very foundation of their community. And even at the Institute, there was never any reason to tamper with the equipment, since everything was fully functional and sanctioned.

"So you ended up in prison for it?" she asked.

"Looks that way. Fifteen years in a penal colony up north. Given that the average lifespan there is about five years, you can probably guess just how much I pissed them off."

"That’s a brutal punishment for something so harmless," Ela remarked, but she caught a flicker of amusement in Vin’s expression.

"Harmless?" he repeated. "Imagine if I modified something... and it ended up killing someone. Not so harmless then, is it?"

Ela fell silent.

Maybe it was better not to ask for details.

At that moment, the diagnostic device beeped, signaling the end of the scan.

Vin turned and handed the Meco back to her. "Like I said—no error."

Ela sighed. "So... back to meditation?"

Vin nodded seriously. "Looks like you don’t have any other choice."

She bit her lip, frustration boiling inside her. The trials were within reach—she had been preparing for over six months, yet they still felt unattainable.

She was the only one who couldn’t get it to work.

The only one who didn’t fit into the Beacon’s precise system.

Like a faulty component in a perfectly tuned machine.

Maybe they were giving her time, but she could feel it running out.

And unlike Vin, who had skilled hands and a brilliant mind, she had nothing else to offer the Beacon.