The world fractured. Pain, cold and sharp, lanced through Elias’s skull. Not Kaelen’s pain. Something alien. Invasive. Images flashed. Gleaming chrome. Sterile white walls. The distant hum of a data core. Elias. A console, shimmering with galactic charts. Then mud. Blood. A snarling beast with too many teeth. The scent of rain and rot. Kaelen. His hands tightening on a spear shaft. A voice, calm, synthetic, echoed in the swirling darkness. "Subject's neural pathways... unexpected contamination." "Source? Residual consciousness imprint?" Another voice, sharper, cut through the din. "Affirmative. Two distinct signatures. Primary, primitive Xylosian. Secondary, high-orbital origin. Fascinating anomaly." The pain intensified. His mind, Kaelen's mind, a single, agonizing battlefield. He was a data archivist. Not a warrior. He had no defense against this violation. Primal rage boiled. Kaelen's body, his mind, felt like it was being stripped. Violently. He saw his father's face, blurred, distorted by static. A holographic message, long forgotten. Then the Elder's eyes, wide with fear. A forgotten trail marker, hidden behind a rock fall. They were digging. Probing. Ripping through the layers of memory, raw and exposed. "Accessing geographic markers. Tribal settlements." The synthetic voice held no emotion. "Identifying primary population clusters. Resource allocation for Apex Re-Wilding Protocol." Fear. Primal, Kaelen's fear. The tribe. Exposed. Their secret trails. Their hidden camps. All laid bare. Elias tried to push back. A useless mental struggle. His hands twitched. Not his hands. Kaelen's. Strong. But useless now, bound by the strange tech. The device pulsed, digging deeper. A cold fire spread through his thoughts. "Fragmented memories of an Old World facility. High energy signatures present. Prioritize." "Verify. Could be a core Apex data cache. Significant." The sharper voice again. The shuttle interior spun. Dim light. The device a metallic spider on his forehead, its tendrils deep in his mind. It pulsed once more, a final, violating surge. Then darkness. Silence. A profound, aching emptiness. --- He blinked. The jungle canopy was a blur of green. His head throbbed. A raw ache behind his eyes, a phantom pressure. He was on the ground. Loose soil. Rotting leaves. The air was thick with humidity, the scent of damp earth and decay. His mind felt like a cracked lens. Fragmented, dislocated. He pushed himself up. Every muscle protested. The shuttle was gone. Only a fresh scar in the earth remained, where its landing gear had gouged the soil. A sense of profound loss gnawed at him. His memories felt… thinner. Some of Kaelen’s were clearer, sharper. Others, Elias’s own, felt distant, like dreams. He remembered the voices. The cold, analytical voices. They had taken something. What? Locations. Information about the tribe. The thought twisted his gut. A cold dread replaced the pain. He stumbled to his feet. His hands went to his head. No device. Just a dull throb. Residual psychic trauma. He looked around. The familiar jungle, now menacing. He was alone. Deep in hostile territory. He was Kaelen. He had to be. No escape now. The weight of responsibility settled on him. He had failed. The tribe. His tribe. --- He had to warn them. But where were they? He remembered the map in the shuttle. The marked locations. His mind pieced together Kaelen's instinctual knowledge of the territory. The path north. To the Sunstone Falls. A meeting place. A place for the seasonal hunt, for trading stories and wares. He started moving. Every step an effort. The jungle pressed in. Sounds amplified. A rustle in the undergrowth. A distant screech from something unseen. He moved like Kaelen. Silent. Furtive. But he felt hollow. Parts of him were missing. He touched his ribs. Kaelen’s bio-enhancements. Active. Working. He reached for a small satchel, Kaelen’s. A dried meat strip. A flint knife. Survival. The word echoed. He saw a broken branch. Fresh. Not a natural snap. He knelt. A boot print. Human. Too perfect for a tribal boot. The operatives. They had been here. Recently. They were hunting. Not just him. His people. A cold dread seeped into his bones. He had to move faster. --- Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, relentless. The humidity was crushing. Sweat streamed down his face, stinging his eyes. He followed faint trails only Kaelen would know. He stopped. A faint shimmer in the air ahead. Cloaking field? Advanced tech. He dropped low. Crawled forward. Through a gap in the ferns, he saw it. A small clearing. A temporary outpost. Two figures, clad in grey armor. Their energy rifles rested against trees. They were examining a small holographic display, their backs to him. He couldn’t hear their words. But he saw the map again. His heart pounded. The red dots. Moving. Heading towards the Sunstone Falls. They knew. They were converging. He saw a third figure emerge from deeper in the clearing. Taller. More ornate armor. A leader. This one held a device. It pulsed, a faint green light. It was similar to the memory extractor. But larger. "Coordinates confirmed," the leader's voice cut through the humid air. Muffled, but audible. "Tribal nexus point identified. Sunstone Falls." "Deployment imminent. Phase Two initiated." His voice was cold, decisive. Elias froze. Phase Two. What did that mean? He heard the distant thrum of rotor blades. A low, guttural growl rose from the jungle behind the clearing. Something large. Something hungry. The operatives spun, raising their weapons. They were not alone. --- The growl intensified, vibrating through the ground. A massive reptilian creature burst from the undergrowth. Green scales, razor claws the size of his forearm. A jungle stalker. One of Xylos's apex predators. Its eyes glowed with predatory hunger. The operatives opened fire. Energy bolts sizzled through the air, scorching leaves. The stalker roared, deflecting some shots with thick hide. It lunged. One operative went down, screaming, a wet tearing sound. Chaos erupted. Elias watched, heart pounding. An opportunity. He could slip away. Or he could act. The leader, focused on the creature, was momentarily distracted. The larger device lay on a fallen log, unattended. Kaelen's instincts screamed at him to run. Elias's mind, the archivist, saw data. Potential. What was that device? Why was it larger? He crawled forward, inch by painful inch. The stalker tore into another operative, a blur of green and red. The leader fired a high-energy blast. The creature staggered, roaring its defiance. Now! Elias sprang. He snatched the device from the log. It was cold, smooth. Heavy. A jolt of energy coursed through him as he touched it. His vision blurred. He saw images. Not memories. Projections. A grand, gleaming city. Hover-vehicles. Thousands of people. Then ruin. Dust. Cracked streets. A project. Apex. Not Re-Wilding Protocol. Something darker. A voice, not the operatives, but deeper, older, echoed in his mind. "They seek the Core. The last nexus of Project Apex. To awaken the sleepers." Sleepers? Who? The jungle stalker roared again. Close. Too close. The leader turned. His eyes, wide with sudden realization, fixed on Elias. "The device! Stop him!" Elias bolted. The visions faded. The device felt like a burning coal in his grip. He ran, deeper into the jungle, holding the strange tech. Energy bolts zipped past him, tearing bark from trees. He didn't look back. The sound of combat faded, replaced by his own ragged, desperate breath. --- He ran until his lungs burned, until his legs ached with fiery exhaustion. He was lost. Deeper than he had ever been in Kaelen's life. The device still pulsed in his hand, a dull green warmth. He stumbled, falling into a shallow hollow, hidden beneath a gnarled root system. Darkness swallowed him. He looked at the device. It still glowed faintly. A map appeared on its surface. Not Kaelen's tribal markers. A digital schematic. Of a vast, complex facility. Deep underground. And a single blinking dot. Labeled: "Core." Beneath it, a chilling message: "Reactivation in T-minus 72 hours." He looked up. The sky was darkening, the jungle plunging into twilight. He was alone. With a stolen device. And a terrible truth. The tribe was not just being hunted. They were collateral. The operatives sought something far greater. And he, Elias Vance, the data archivist, was now at the heart of it all. With a device that could destroy or save everything. He heard a rustle in the dense foliage above him. A shadow detached itself from the gloom. Not a stalker. Humanoid. But too fast. Too quiet. A hand, strong and cold, clamped over his mouth. He struggled, desperate, but his strength was spent. A sharp pinch in his neck. The world tilted. Blackness consumed him, again. Fast and absolute.

Broken Minds