Consciousness returned in fragments, like shards of a shattered mirror. A metallic taste coated my tongue, copper-sharp and faintly electric. A shiver traced its way up from the base of my skull, raising goosebumps on my arms as it spread across my scalp. The binding spell around my neck felt different now, tighter, the corrupted threads seemingly burrowing deeper into my flesh, yet... strangely quiescent. I was lying on a cold, smooth surface that leached warmth from my body, the air thick with the scent of dust and something else... something metallic, yet strangely familiar.

  The voice, if it could be called that, echoed directly inside my head. It wasn't sound, not really. It was like pure thought, translated through thousands of microscopic machines now flowing through my nervous system. I could feel them, a subtle presence just below my skin, their comet-tail patterns pulsing in subtle harmony with my heartbeat. My blood felt alive with countless tiny stars, each one a mote of impossible technology.

  My eyes snapped open. The circular chamber was dim, lit only by the faint, pulsing blue light given off by conduits lining the walls. But, there was something else. It was faint, but I could see a slight, multi-colored shimmer in the air. The threads? I blinked hard, but the gossamer patterns remained, dancing at the edges of my vision.

  Strange, silent machines, their purpose unknown to me, stood like frozen sentinels in the gloom. This wasn't the crude, brutal workmanship of the Krev. This was something else, something... older. The curves and angles spoke of a civilization far beyond anything I'd encountered in Iron Hold.

  "Salutations. Designation: Marco. Function: Custodial Artificial Intelligence Construct, designated to this municipality. Neural integration via Argentum Spark network has been initiated for the preservation of parallel operational integrity."

  "Uh... what?" My brow furrowed, the words swirling in my head like a jumble of gears that wouldn't mesh. "Did you just call me a... a municipal... what?" I tried to sit up, but my limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, as though I were attempting to move through honey.

  "Is this more comprehensible? Perhaps your vernacular would be more suitable? I believe the appropriate colloquialism is: 'Are we speaking the same language now?'" The voice sounded slightly less like a textbook now, and more...was that an attempt at a joke?

  "Slightly," I said, rubbing my temples as a dull throb began to build behind my eyes. "But my head feels like it is full of bees, but the bees are all speaking in riddles." The throbbing in my neck intensified, and I instinctively reached up to touch the binding spell. The corrupted threads felt hot, almost vibrating, under my fingers. *And they're changing. Growing.*

  Suddenly, my teeth buzzed as the Sparks activated in concert, creating a neural overlay that materialized before my eyes. The air crackled with the scent of ozone as the L.I.S.T. interface initialized, azure glyphs hanging suspended in the air before me:

  ? **L.I.S.T. v0.7.3** ?

  Integration Status: Active

  Spark Network: 92% (10,147 nodes)

  Server Link: 100% [Range: 0.02km]

  Neural Load: 12%

  User: Eli (Mortal Realm ? 0.1% Progress)

  Health: Fading Pulse

  ?? "Sleep or collapse. Your choice."

  Mana: Binding Shackles (Heavy)

  ? "Suppression at 98.7%. Thrilling."

  Active Quest: Survive Integration

  I stared at the words and symbols, trying to make sense of the strange glyphs and cryptic messages. The characters seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat, their edges blurring and sharpening as my focus waxed and waned. Then, with a conscious effort, I focused my thoughts, trying to interact with the system. *What is this?* I thought, directing the question towards the interface.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The display flickered, the symbols rearranging themselves like schools of luminous fish, and a new line of text appeared:

  "What... what are you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The words felt fragile in the ancient air, like disturbing dust that had settled for centuries.

  "I am a creation of your ancestors," Marco replied. His voice resonated not in my ears but directly in my mind, each syllable precise yet somehow warm. "Tasked with preserving their knowledge and technology. Your presence here is... significant." There was a pause, a microsecond hesitation that seemed oddly emotional for an artificial being. "You may represent one of the purest bloodlines I have encountered since the fall. Together, we may be able to unlock your familial potential and perhaps restore what was lost." He sounded almost... hopeful.

  "My abilities are dormant," I murmured, more to myself than to Marco. I thought of Lira, of the way she described the threads of magic, her eyes alight with wonder as she'd tried to show me how to see them. The memory of her patience made my chest ache. "The binding spell," I said, my voice growing stronger, fingers tracing the cold metal at my throat, "it's stopping me. It's like trying to see through a wall, a cloud I cannot touch." And it's getting worse.

  "Yes. The binding spell is a crude perversion of Ancient energy protocols," Marco confirmed. His tone shifted to something darker, disapproving. "It is designed to suppress, not eliminate. The energy is still there, like a dammed river. And that dam is starting to crack."

  A new image flickered on the display, a detailed scan of my body, highlighting an intricate network of glowing lines. But these lines were different from the ones on the display. They were faint, almost invisible, shimmering with the same multi-colored shimmer I'd noticed in the air. They pulsed with my heartbeat, brightening and dimming in a rhythm that felt oddly familiar, as though I'd always known it was there beneath my skin.

  "What you see are your meridians," Marco explained. "Channels through which energy flows. The builders of this city understood these pathways intimately. They developed methods to cultivate and enhance them." The scan rotated slowly, showing how the lines converged at points along my spine, forming complex patterns like constellations beneath my skin.

  As I stared, I realized something. "These lines... they're like the threads Lira talked about. The ones she could see after the attack." The revelation sent a thrill through me, a spark of connection to something I'd never fully understood.

  "Affirmative. Subject's description aligns with fragmented records of 'Elemental Threadweaving,' a lost art." Marco's voice, usually so devoid of inflection, held a hint of something akin to excitement. "This is a significant discovery." The interface pulsed brighter, as if sharing in his enthusiasm.

  "She said the air was full of them," I explained, remembering Lira's wide-eyed wonder. "Lines of light, strands of color. She could pull them, she said, weave them together to make things happen. Fire, wind... She called it Elting." As I spoke, I could almost see her hands moving, graceful and purposeful, painting with invisible light.

  "Indeed. Your friend's 'Elting' appears to be a simplified manifestation of Ancient energy manipulation principles. A cruder method, perhaps, but undeniably effective." Marco paused, and the display shifted again, forming intricate patterns that reminded me of rushing water, of flames dancing in the wind. "It is possible that the cataclysm that created the dungeon also altered the fundamental laws of this world, making such a thing possible."

  "So this 'cultivation' you mentioned," I began, leaning forward with newfound interest, ignoring the protest of sore muscles. "It's about learning to use these threads? Like Lira and the other weavers?" Hope fluttered in my chest like a captive bird.

  "In a manner of speaking," Marco confirmed. The display shifted to show a stylized figure performing what looked like a complex dance, lines of energy flowing through and around it. "The cultivation path I outlined is based on Ancient techniques for manipulating energy. If you can learn to sense and manipulate the energy within you, as Lira does with her threads, we may be able to overcome the limitations of the binding spell."

  "But how do I learn to do that with this thing on?" I asked, my fingers tracing the cold, hard lines of the binding spell. It felt like more than just a physical restraint. It was a barrier, a wall between me and something vast, something powerful. And it's changing. It's learning. The thought came unbidden, chilling me to the bone.

  "That is the challenge," Marco admitted. The display dimmed slightly, reflecting his hesitation. "But we will find a way. Your genetic potential is too great to be ignored. And perhaps..." He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. "Perhaps this 'Elting' can provide a key."

  The interface shifted again, displaying complex equations and models that flowed and changed like living things. This was a new avenue of research, one that could potentially unlock the secrets of my suppressed power. And one that could show how I could overcome the binding spell. Or be consumed by it.