A NEW BEGINNING

Until we recognize that our own history is filled with unspeakable cruelty, tyranny and betrayal, that the past of the Beacon is shaped not only by heroic deeds but also by cowardly collaboration and outright treason, we will keep embellishing the image of what we once were.

They tell us to take pride in our legacy, but just as rightfully, we should fear it.

The past is not a light in the darkness consuming our world. It is part of it.

– quote from Dorin Lazzal, 15th Mediator

Reng, somewhere deep inside the Beacon

Time passed while he sat there, completely alone. Just him, the darkness, the cold, the nausea, and the weight of thoughts that splintered inside his mind. 

They had dragged him here right after pulling him away from Tonot. Hauled him somewhere unfamiliar. The only thing he knew about this place was that it was dark and unpleasantly cold. They had stripped him of his armor and tied him to a chair, wearing only the undersuit he used beneath the gear. It was deliberately thin to stay out of the way, but now it offered little warmth. He could feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the fabric until the chill made his whole body shiver.

They know exactly what they're doing, he realized. The isolation, the discomfort, the hostile environment forced him to drown in his own fears about what was coming. It was far more effective than physical pain. That he could brace against. But how do you fight horrors that rise from your own mind?

The hardest part was doubt. When he’d stabbed the knife into Tonot, he’d tried to believe it was the right thing to do. After all, Tonot had wanted this. He had trained him for it, pushed him to repeat it over and over.

But now?

That certainty was gone. Maybe he had misunderstood everything.

And he couldn’t shake the look in Ela’s eyes. The shock. The mistrust. If this had really been Tonot’s plan, then why did she look at him like that? Her eyes had blamed him for stealing her future, for destroying her chance at a life in the Beacon at the side of a werren.

His thoughts bounced around, drifting aimlessly as he slipped into an exhausted half-sleep. The state was all too familiar. He had spent many nights like this on the line, staying alert in case something went wrong. So when he heard footsteps, he snapped out of it almost instantly. His body tensed on instinct, his mind snapped back to full awareness. Two people. No…two people and one werren. The metal steps were rhythmic and unmistakable. The human ones were slow and steady. As if they knew there was no need to hurry. He wasn’t going anywhere.

A sudden burst of light stabbed into his eyes and tore through the pile of glass shards Borin’s left hand had left behind in his skull. His eyes burned, his body sluggish, still caught in the haze of fatigue. Reng drew in a ragged breath, his heart betraying him by pounding harder as the silhouettes around him began to take shape. He hadn’t been wrong. Two people and one werren.

He tried to make out their faces, but the light was aimed directly at him and the rest of the room was swallowed by darkness. He saw nothing but outlines. Still, he could feel their stares. Analyzing. Measuring. Ready to tear him apart. He was nothing to them now but an object, a thing meant to answer questions. And after that? No one would care.

“Good to see you again,” said a voice that sounded almost familiar.

Reng mentally sorted through the mediators before placing it. Nylen. The grey-haired man with the friendly smile who always seemed like a good guy. But Reng had long suspected that behind that mask hid a ruthless Beacon pragmatist who would walk over a pile of corpses if the situation demanded it. That was probably why he had been chosen for the role. There was no room here for people who were truly good.

He drew in a breath to reply. His tongue was dry as sand. He hadn’t had a drop of water since boarding that damned Horus to start the mission. And now it was catching up to him. But he had no intention of begging. He didn’t want them to know how miserable he felt.

“Maybe if you’d shove that light up your ass, the joy of this reunion would be mutual,” he rasped.

Nylen laughed, as if he’d just heard the best joke of the night.

“I see your sense of humor’s still intact. Good. You’ll need it.”

Reng suspected that maybe he should have been more respectful. Maybe Nylen would have taken it into account. But in the end, he decided there was no point in clinging to false hope. Especially since the light still blazed and he still couldn’t see a thing.

“I hope you’ve had enough time to think,” Nylen continued, his voice sounding like they were just having a friendly chat.

“Well, thinking’s about the only thing to do in here,” Reng replied, trying to shift his position.

His body had started to protest, stiff from sitting for too long. But the restraints held him firmly in place.

Nylen let out a light chuckle, as if Reng’s discomfort didn’t register at all.

“That’s good. Then there’s no need to delay. Shall we begin? Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because of Tonot,” Reng answered, prepared to give the expected reply.

Simple question, simple answer. In an ideal world, that would’ve been enough. But the Beacon was far from ideal, as confirmed by the next voice, a rough, gravelly tone.

“Exactly. Does that scrambled little brain of yours even realize what you actually did?” hissed the unfamiliar man, his broad shoulders momentarily blocking the intense beam of light. It gave Reng a brief look at him. Tall. A harsh face. A sinister smile that made it clear he would get what he wanted. By words or by force. And in his case, Reng had a strong feeling he preferred the latter.

Reng tried to stay calm, even though he knew exactly why this guy was here. He wasn’t a diplomat. He was here to do Nylen’s dirty work once all other options ran out.

“Let me guess, you’re not the dialog type?” Reng said coldly, reminding himself not to show anything. His heart was pounding harder than he liked, but on his face he wore the mask of indifference.

There was something about the man that unsettled him. Not just the threatening expression or the hands like steel claws. No, it was that he was a modificant. Just like Reng. And yet Reng had never seen him before. A guy like that, he would have remembered.

This wasn’t some ordinary foot soldier like Miren, Borin, or even himself. Up close, Reng got the impression there wasn’t much human left in him. More machine than flesh. And it was terrifying. He probably belonged directly to Nylen. That, Reng understood. He knew how it worked. After all, he himself had belonged to Tonot in exactly the same way.

“On the contrary, I like a good conversation,” the man replied, his artificial fingers clicking against one another. The sound was metallic and coarse, just like the man himself.

It only took one glance, and Reng was instantly reminded of Borin. Of the merciless strikes from that left arm, punches that echoed through bone.

“Leave him be, Kresh,” Nylen finally said. His voice was suspiciously calm. “I’m sure he’ll explain everything. So, Reng, why? Why did you do it?”

Reng exhaled deeply. Ever since they’d dragged him here, that question had been spinning in his head. Why? Why had he agreed to this, knowing it wouldn’t end well?

“Well, first thing that comes to mind is maybe I wanted revenge...” he said at last. His voice was hollow, like he no longer fully believed it himself. “For Zerek. And for Miren.”

“Revenge?” Nylen repeated, shaking his head. “Did he kill them?”

“No,” Reng snapped, his gaze narrowing to slits. “But he sent them to their deaths.”

Kresh stepped closer, his heavy hand landing on Reng’s shoulder.

“We’re all here to go where no normal person would dare,” he said, while Reng grimaced in pain under his crushing grip. “Every mission is a risk. And people getting killed? That’s something we all have to expect.”

“I know that,” Reng managed through clenched teeth, trying not to show just how much it hurt. “But this was different.”

The pressure eased. Kresh leaned in. “Different how?”

“Tonot pushed us in there on purpose. He knew what was waiting. And I think he knew one of us had a faulty injector. So he left Miren to that creature. Deliberately.”

Nylen frowned. For a moment, his cold mask slipped.

“A faulty injector? That wasn’t in the mission report.”

“I’m guessing Borin wrote the report, right?” Reng smirked bitterly, the edge in his voice impossible to miss.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Kresh said with a sneer. His eyes bored into Reng like twin drills, looking for the slightest crack.

Reng raised his head and met the stare without flinching.

“Why would I lie? Unlike Borin, I’ve got no reason to cover my own ass. Borin only reports what’s good for Borin. He’ll never admit he screwed something up.”

"That's a serious accusation. Think carefully about what you're saying," Kresh growled, tightening his grip on Reng’s shoulder. This time, Reng couldn’t help but hiss in pain.

"Borin, unlike you, has proven himself many times. He has no reason to lie."

"I'm not lying!"

"And do you have proof for what you’re claiming?"

Reng scoffed, hopeless. "Only Zerik and Miren were there."

"And both are dead. That doesn’t exactly work in your favor," Kresh laughed, though his eyes were cold.

Nylen raised his hand suddenly, cutting his man off. "Calm down. Let him speak," he said quietly, and Kresh stepped aside without protest, giving the floor back to the mediator.

Now it was Nylen who leaned closer. His voice was gentle, which somehow felt worse than Kresh’s brute force.

"Who told you how to take Tonot down? It’s obvious you knew exactly what to do. That knife work was too precise. You went straight for the weak spot. Where did you learn that?"

Reng looked at him, confused, then let out a breath. "It’s one of your own simulations. Same ones that train us to fight that creature we brought in."

Nylen shook his head, clearly displeased. "You’re lying. The Beacon doesn’t teach modificants anything like that. So who taught you?"

"Why would I lie?" Reng snapped. But before he could say more, Kresh struck him hard in the ribs. The air rushed out of Reng with a gasp. He clenched his teeth, swallowing down the cry of pain, refusing to give the bastard the satisfaction. But his head spun. This guy was worse than Borin.

"Don’t ask why you’d lie," Kresh growled. "Just tell us who taught you, because none of the simulations cover that. I know. I’ve completed every one of them. Multiple times. With full scores."

Reng licked his lips, blood starting to seep from where he’d bitten them in the impact. "Those simulations… the ones I ran with Tonot… I thought they were part of the standard training… I… I honestly don’t know. Tonot would’ve confirmed it."

Nylen bent even closer, his voice once again soft and calm. "Then it’s awfully convenient that you turned him into scrap. You see, Reng, your story has holes big enough to drive a crawler through. All your witnesses are dead. And the only one who knows about these mysterious simulations is you. It’s really starting to look like things aren’t how you say they are. Maybe someone put you here. Let’s be honest for a moment. Some people had their doubts about you even before. Especially after what happened at the Sindar Lad outpost."

Reng looked up, startled, his heartbeat spiking at the memory of a place where he was supposed to die.

"Sindar Lad? What does that dump have to do with anything?"

"We all know what happened there," Nylen went on. "But since we have time, I’d like to hear it from you, as an eyewitness."

Reng clenched his jaw and shut his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to forget. Not drag it back up.

"There’s no point. It won’t be any different from the version you already know."

Nylen gave a slight smile, as if he’d been expecting exactly that. "You were one of the ones who brought the transmitter to the base. The one that started broadcasting, guiding the Letrass units straight to us. That much we know."

Reng said nothing.

"But we don’t know who turned it on. Was it you?" Nylen asked softly, but with a blade hidden in the tone.

"Me?!" Reng clenched his fists. "For fuck’s sake, what do you think I am? I didn’t betray anyone!"

Kresh’s face twisted into a dangerous smile. "I don’t know why, but something tells me you’re full of shit."

Nylen raised a hand again to stop his enforcer. "Not yet. Let’s give him a chance," he said calmly, but there was something dark growing in his eyes.

Reng tried to resist the rising pressure in the room. He felt like something was building. The space suddenly seemed smaller, like it was part of something much bigger closing in on him. He swallowed hard. Something was different. It wasn’t just the claustrophobia or the stares of those two. It was something deeper, touching his core. A cold presence grazed the back of his neck, digging under his skin like the hand of someone unseen. Something flickered on his right. Not in the room, but beyond the wall.

Was it even possible to sense something like that?

He didn’t know. But he knew this… It was heavy. Familiar. And yet utterly indescribable.

He turned his head quickly. But in the darkness, there was nothing. Only his own fear.

"Tell me what happened in Sindar Lad," Nylen said again, pulling Reng’s attention back to him. "What was your connection to the transmitter?"

"Nothing. I didn’t do anything," Reng replied, but something in his voice faltered.

Something was close. So close he could almost feel its breath on his skin. But he saw no one, nothing.

"I don’t believe you," Nylen said gently, but the cold in his tone matched the cold that was now shaking Reng to the bone. "Something happened in the Sindar Lad mines and you were there. I want to hear everything. Every word."

Reng wanted to yell that he had already told them all of it. That he was no traitor. That none of it had been his fault. That he had no idea why they doubted him. But before he could open his mouth, his whole body locked in fear. A sharp pain sliced through his skull as if someone was tearing his thoughts straight out of his head. Memories from the past burst into clarity. They were sharp and vivid, but they felt foreign. Not just his own memories. Fragments that had been taken from him.

The transmitter. Kamek leaning over him. And Vanys. He heard his voice again. "We need to take him to command."

They had not wanted to go. Even back then they sensed something was wrong.

And the prisoner. That cursed man begging for mercy in a language that scraped across their ears. If he had listened to him that day, so many lives could have been saved. That was his part of the blame.

A piercing alarm shook the air around him. He flinched, but he knew that sound was not from the Beacon. It rang from the deep corridors of Sindar Lad. The tightness returned to his chest. Fear clawed its way in. 

Everyone was running, trying to find cover from the slaughter brought by the Letrass forces on the surface.

He saw himself again, standing beside Tinor. Astin lay at his feet. The dead stare of a boy, not even grown, fixed on the black ceiling above. Reng sobbed. He had let him die, even though he had tried so hard to save him. 

And Astin was only the first.

Clever Kamek.

Miny with her mouth torn wide open.

Fair and righteous Vanys.

All of them killed while defending Sindar Lad side by side. None of them made it out. Even gentle giant Tinor had been buried under the same collapse. That weight now pressed down on Reng again. He felt it on his back. He felt the darkness flooding his mind.

Reng screamed. His head throbbed under the force of something vile, something that ripped his memories free without caring what damage it left behind. And then it was gone. But the ache in his mind remained, just as sharp as the bruises Kresh had left in his ribs. He broke down and cried. He did not know why. It just came. He cried like a boy who had fallen from a kernal for the first time and nearly broken his neck.

"I... I..." he stammered, still struggling to catch his breath. His mind was twisted in pain and he had no idea how to stop it. Physical pain was easy to escape. All he had to do was close himself off. But how do you run from a pain that reaches into the core of who you are?

Kresh grabbed his shoulder again, rough and unrelenting, but this time Reng barely noticed.

"Talk," Nylen whispered again, almost friendly, while his eyes turned for the first time to the werren who had been silently standing nearby. The werren gave a single nod to signal that everything was going according to plan.

"The transmitter..." Reng breathed out the word like it had torn itself from his lungs. "It was a trap. That prisoner... he knew. The whole time. He tried to warn us, but none of us understood him."

Nylen smiled faintly. "The man was from Harran. And he survived the attack. He confirmed exactly what you’re saying. Including the fact that his unit had been deployed with the full knowledge that they would be slaughtered. To the Letrass, those people hold almost no value, so sacrificing them meant nothing. His survival was never intended."

"They wanted me to kill him," Reng whispered and saw again the prisoner’s terrified eyes.

"And it's good that you didn’t. That man also told us there is a traitor among us. He was the one who leaked the information about the transmitter. He led us right to him."

"But it’s not me," Reng repeated firmly. "If it were, I would have made sure that man never walked out alive."

Nylen nodded slowly. That made sense.

"He speaks the truth," said the werren unexpectedly. Until now he had calmly observed everything without a word. "Nonon confirms his words, but he also warns us. This modificant is more difficult than he expected."

"He's resisting?" Nylen looked at Reng with surprise.

"It seems so."

"Unusual," the old Mediator scratched his chin. "But Nonon can handle him, right?"

"If the resistance continues, there is a risk of damage," the werren replied.

"I don't think that would matter much," Nylen shrugged with complete indifference.

"This is a waste of time," Kresh growled. "Give him to me. I’ll make him talk."

Nylen gave him a cold look. "No. You will make sure he stays coherent and alive for as long as possible. Once he’s no longer useful, dispose of him."

Then Nylen looked at Reng one last time, thoughtful, as Reng slowly started to recover. But the cold sweat running down his neck told a different story. The experience had shaken him.

"I really don’t know what else you want from me," he whispered and glanced around again. For a moment he thought the wall in front of him wasn’t as solid as it seemed. He had the eerie impression that a twisted silhouette lingered behind it. But he wasn’t sure. He felt like he was going mad. Like he could no longer trust anything he sensed.

"What matters is that he didn’t betray us," Nylen said toward the werren. His voice was calm, but something in it left a chilling trace. "At least Ela was right about that when she defended him so stubbornly in the Circle. Maybe she had her reasons. And maybe we are about to find out what they were."

Ela? The sound of her name rang in his mind and a surge of mixed emotions flooded through him. Ela, who had left him in Karhen Rouz. Ela, who had still been thinking of him.

"Did you miss me? Even a little?"

He heard her silvery laugh and couldn’t ignore the way she batted her lashes at him with playful charm. He could smell her. Feel the softness of her skin. He was holding her in his arms. He felt the taste of her body, touching her everywhere she allowed. He felt her arousal, the way she arched against him in his lap under the pressure of desire. He laughed and pressed his hand over her mouth to stifle her moans in the dark. They couldn’t draw attention. It had been just the two of them. No one else was supposed to know.

Reng choked on his breath, terrified by how deeply the unknown presence was pulling these memories from him. These moments had never been meant for anything but a buried recollection. Now, stripped bare, he felt violated, enslaved, and utterly drained.

"Stop..." he whispered desperately, tears once again streaming down his face.

He didn’t even notice Kresh spitting on the ground in disgust. The man clearly had no idea what was happening.

Nylen, on the other hand, smiled. The werren leaned in and quietly shared something with him, and the mediator licked his lips with excitement.

"If I were you, I wouldn’t resist," he said with satisfaction. "It seems there’s a lot more inside you than I expected. Maybe even a few interesting things about our young mediator. Looks like she too is hiding a few secrets of her own."

"So what now, I just wait until it’s all over?" Kresh asked, visibly frustrated at the prospect of a very uneventful shift.

"Nonon will need more time," Nylen replied calmly.

"Listen to his whisper. And be patient."