The old woman's name was Mora, and she had been in the Deep Home for over eighty years.

  "You were born down here?" Finn asked, incredulous.

  Mora cackled. "Void, no. I came here when I was sixteen. Same as you. Failed my Rite—spent my whole life believing I was worthless. Came down here to throw myself into a pit." She shrugged. "Missed. Landed in a soft spot. Been here ever since."

  Kael sat cross-legged by one of the fires, Lyra asleep with her head in his lap. The Deep Home was strange—not a single cave, but a network of tunnels and chambers that stretched for miles. Mora claimed there were thousands of Forgotten living down here, though Kael had only seen a few dozen so far.

  "What do you eat?" he asked.

  "Fungus. Blind fish from the underground rivers. Each other, when times get really bad." She saw his expression and laughed. "Kidding. Mostly. We're not savages, boy. We're just... forgotten."

  Kael looked at his arm. The spiral was dark now, but he could still feel Vex sleeping. "You said you can feel it. What does it feel like to you?"

  Mora's eyes went distant. "Like a story. The oldest story ever told. The story of how the world began." She focused on him again. "You know what the Gilded did, don't you? When they built their floating city?"

  Kael shook his head.

  "They sealed the Primordials. The first beings—the ones who shaped the world from raw Aether. The Gilded trapped them, bound them, used their power to build their empire." She pointed at his arm. "And you, boy, have just released one."

  Kael's blood went cold. "Released? I didn't—I just touched the Spire—"

  "The Spire was a prison." Mora's voice was flat. "The biggest one. It sat right on top of the most powerful Primordial of them all. And you, with your desperate little soul, you cracked it open and let it out." She shook her head. "The Gilded aren't hunting you because you're dangerous. They're hunting you because you're the key to something they've spent a thousand years trying to keep locked away."

  "What do you mean, key?"

  Mora leaned forward, her ancient eyes burning in the firelight. "That creature chose you, boy. Out of everyone in that city, it picked you. You're bonded now—soul-deep. That means its power is your power. Its knowledge is your knowledge. And its enemies?" She smiled grimly. "They're your enemies too."

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  Kael didn't sleep that night. He sat by the fire, watching Lyra's peaceful face, and tried to process what Mora had told him.

  A Primordial. He was bonded to a Primordial.

  Vex stirred, and Kael felt a flicker of amusement.

  *Primordial. * The thought was clearer now, more focused. *Is that what they call us? *

  "You're awake."

  *Always awake. Always watching. Just... weak. The prison took much from me. From us. *

  "Us? There are more of you?"

  A wave of sadness washed through the bond—ancient, profound grief that made Kael's eyes sting with tears he didn't understand.

  *Once. Many. Now... few. Sleeping. Trapped. Some... gone. *

  Kael swallowed. "Can you... can you talk? Really talk? Not just feelings?"

  A long pause. Then, slowly, words began to form in his mind—not concepts, but actual language, shaped with effort.

  "I... can. It... hurts. Have not... spoken... in long time."

  "Take your time."

  "You are... kind. Small one. Like the others were. Before."

  "Others? You've bonded before?"

  "Long ago. Before the prison. Before the Gilded. We walked together, your kind and mine. Built great things. Then... they grew afraid. Trapped us. Forgot us."

  Kael thought of Mora's words. "The Gilded sealed you away. Used your power."

  "Yes. Stole it. Drank it like water. Grew fat on our pain." A pause. "You are different. You did not take. You... opened. Let me out."

  "I didn't mean to," Kael admitted. "I just wanted to pass the Rite. I wanted to be able to protect my sister."

  "Protection. Yes. I understand protection. I was protector once. Of all this world." Vex seemed to gather itself. "I will protect you now, little one. And you will help me remember who I am."

  The next morning, Mora woke Kael with a kick to the ribs.

  "Up, boy. If you're going to survive, you need to learn to use that thing."

  Kael groaned, pushing himself upright. Lyra was already awake, watching him with worried eyes. Finn sat nearby, looking slightly less terrified than he had yesterday.

  "Use it how?" Kael asked.

  Mora gestured at the chamber around them. "The Deep Home has been here for centuries. We've learned things the Gilded forgot. Come."

  She led them through a series of tunnels to a smaller chamber, its walls covered in strange markings. They looked almost like the Aetheric circles from the Rite platform, but wilder, more organic—like something that had grown rather than been built.

  "This is where we teach our children," Mora said. "The ones born down here. We can't give them beasts, but we can give them something else."

  She pressed her hand to one of the markings, and it flared to life—a soft, warm gold.

  "We teach them to feel the Aether. To move it. To shape it." She looked at Kael. "You've got more Aether in you than any ten Gold-Tiers. But it's wild. Untrained. If you try to use it without control, it'll burn you out. Or worse—it'll burn out the people you love."

  Kael looked at Lyra. "What do I do?"

  Mora smiled. "First lesson: sit. Shut up. And listen."