Carson's fingers hovered over the iridescent panel, hesitating before making contact. Unlike TITAN's cold interfaces with their rigid command structures, this console seemed to pulse with invitation. He pressed his palm against the smooth surface, expecting resistance. Instead, it yielded like living tissue, warming beneath his touch.

  The panel illuminated, golden light spreading outward in fractal patterns. Other sections of the command center remained dark, unresponsive when Link attempted to activate them.

  "It's only working for you," Link said, stepping back.

  Carson nodded, throat dry. "The ship's... choosing."

  He moved to another panel, this one emitting soft blue light. At his touch, three-dimensional schematics blossomed in the air—propulsion systems unlike anything in TITAN's fleet, life support configured for Earth-optimal conditions, and defensive capabilities that made military vessels look primitive.

  The Stone against his chest grew warmer, its glow intensifying to match the ship's awakening systems. Energy pulsed through Carson's exhausted body, keeping fatigue at bay while his mind raced to process everything.

  "Try that central console," Mira suggested, pointing to a crystalline structure rising from the deck's center.

  Carson approached cautiously. The air hummed with potential, tiny particles of light drifting through the atmosphere like microscopic stars. The deck plates vibrated beneath his boots, a subtle resonance that traveled up through his legs and spine.

  "It's like the whole ship is waking up," he murmured.

  The central console stood waist-high, a dodecahedron of transparent crystal with intricate circuitry suspended within. As Carson drew closer, the Stone's warmth became almost uncomfortable, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

  Wind moved to his side. "Carson, maybe we should—"

  "I need to know," he interrupted, reaching for the crystal.

  The moment his fingers touched the surface, the Stone flared with blinding intensity. Energy surged through his body, not painful but overwhelming—like diving into an electrical current. The ship's systems responded instantly, dormant displays illuminating throughout the command center. The air freshened as life support optimized, the stale scent of abandonment replaced by a clean ozone tang.

  Carson gasped as information flooded his consciousness—not as data but as understanding. The ship was called Poseidon, designed to navigate the boundaries between dimensions. It had been waiting, systems in hibernation, for someone carrying both the Stone and the correct genetic signature.

  His genetic signature.

  The crystal beneath his palm liquefied, flowing around his hand before resolving into solid form again. The lights dimmed momentarily, then stabilized at a higher intensity. In the center of the command area, air molecules began to coalesce, gathering light and substance.

  "System activation complete," announced a voice that sent chills down Carson's spine—it sounded disturbingly like his own, but older, more assured. "Genetic verification confirmed."

  A holographic figure materialized before them—a man in his fifties with Carson's jawline, his eyes, even the same slight asymmetry to his smile. The hologram wore clothing unlike TITAN's utilitarian uniforms or Theist ceremonial garb—simple but elegant, from an era Carson knew only from historical archives.

  "Dr. Alexander Craft," the figure introduced itself, "consciousness matrix, version 7.3."

  Carson stepped back involuntarily, bumping into Wind. "That's impossible. AI consciousness transfer was theoretical, even in TITAN's most advanced labs."

  The hologram's eyes—his eyes—fixed on Carson with unnerving focus. "Not theoretical. Just kept from public knowledge." The AI's gaze shifted to the Stone at Carson's chest. "The Light Stone has found you, as I hoped it would."

  "As you hoped?" Carson's voice cracked. "This ship has been here for—"

  "One hundred and seventy-three years, four months, sixteen days," the AI finished. "I placed it here before the First Schism, when it became clear TITAN would never allow my research to continue."

  The temperature in the room adjusted subtly, becoming more comfortable as Carson's body heat elevated with stress. The lighting shifted to compensate for his dilated pupils—the ship responding to his physiological state without command.

  "You look like me," Carson said, the words escaping before he could stop them.

  The hologram nodded. "Or more accurately, you look like me. You are my direct descendant, Carson Craft."

  The name hit Carson like a physical blow. He'd never told the AI his name.

  "How do you know who I am?" he demanded.

  "Your genetic signature is unmistakable," Dr. Craft replied. "The Poseidon was programmed to recognize the bloodline. And the Stone—" he gestured to Carson's chest, "—it has always been meant for you."

  The Stone pulsed as if in agreement, its warmth spreading through Carson's chest.

  "That's not possible," Carson whispered. "I'm an orphan. TITAN records show—"

  "TITAN records show what TITAN wishes them to show," Dr. Craft interrupted. "Your parents were researchers at the Europa facility. They died protecting the knowledge of the Keys from those who would misuse them."

  Carson felt Wind's hand on his shoulder, steadying him. The ship's deck seemed to sway beneath his feet, though the inertial systems remained perfectly stable.

  "Carson Craft," the AI said, its voice softening to an almost paternal tone, "welcome home. The Poseidon has waited a long time for you."

  * * *

  Carson gripped the command chair's edges, his knuckles white against the metallic surface. The Stone at his chest pulsed with a steady rhythm that somehow matched the beating of his heart. His mind raced faster than the scrolling data on the surrounding screens, each new piece of information reshaping his understanding of himself.

  "The Craft bloodline was deliberately scattered," Dr. Craft's hologram explained, gesturing to a display showing a complex family tree. "When TITAN leadership discovered the true potential of the Keys, they wanted control. Those of us who understood their real purpose knew this couldn't happen."

  Carson's eyes traced the branching lines of the family tree. Names he'd never heard, faces he'd never seen—yet somehow familiar. His gaze stopped on an image of a woman with his same gray-blue eyes.

  "My mother?" he asked, voice barely audible.

  "Eliza Craft. Lead researcher at the Europa facility." The AI's expression softened with something that looked remarkably like genuine sorrow. "She and your father ensured your safety by separating you from any connection to the Craft name."

  Carson's throat tightened. "They abandoned me."

  "They saved you," Dr. Craft corrected. "TITAN would have either weaponized you or eliminated you. The bloodline carries certain... compatibilities with Architect technology that make us valuable. Or dangerous, depending on perspective."

  A new display materialized, showing molecular structures rotating slowly beside Carson's genetic profile. Certain sequences highlighted in pulsing gold.

  "These markers are unique to our lineage," Dr. Craft continued. "They allow integration with the Keys that others cannot achieve. The Light Stone didn't choose you randomly, Carson. It recognized you."

  Carson's chest tightened as the Stone warmed against his skin. He glanced at his companions. Link stood closest, concern etched on his features. Wind's expression remained carefully neutral, though her eyes never left Carson's face. Mira hung back, her posture suggesting she'd known at least some of this already.

  "I don't believe you," Carson said, but the words lacked conviction.

  Dr. Craft smiled—the same half-smile Carson had seen in his own reflection countless times. The same asymmetrical quirk of the lips.

  "Computer, display personal log, date 2187.4.23," the AI commanded.

  A video appeared, showing a younger version of Dr. Craft holding an infant. "Alexander's log. My grandson was born today. Seven pounds, four ounces. They've named him Carson, after my father." The man in the recording touched the baby's cheek with gentle reverence. "The Stone responded to him already. Just proximity, but unmistakable. The lineage continues."

  Carson's breath caught. The baby in the recording had the same small birthmark on his left shoulder that Carson had always dismissed as an insignificant blemish.

  "That's..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

  "You," Dr. Craft confirmed. "Three days after your birth, before you were hidden."

  The command center's temperature adjusted subtly as Carson's body heat increased. The Stone pulsed more rapidly, matching his accelerating heartbeat.

  "If I'm your... descendant," Carson struggled with the word, "then why grow up in TITAN orphan quarters? Why spend my life mining asteroid fragments? Why—" His voice cracked. "Why was I alone?"

  The hologram's expression reflected genuine regret. "The plan was never for isolation. Your parents arranged a guardian—someone who would raise you with knowledge of your heritage while keeping you hidden from TITAN surveillance."

  Dr. Craft's image flickered momentarily. "Something went wrong. Your guardian never claimed you. We don't know if they were discovered, killed, or simply abandoned their responsibility. By the time I could implement a contingency, TITAN had already processed you into their system."

  Carson felt a hand on his shoulder—Link, offering silent support.

  "Carson," Dr. Craft said, "you were never meant to be alone. But perhaps it protected you. Your deliberate underachievement, your resistance to authority—these kept you beneath TITAN's notice until the Stone could find you."

  The truth of it resonated in Carson's bones. His entire life—every decision to stay invisible, to remain unremarkable—had been instinctive self-preservation.

  Carson stared at the face so eerily similar to his own. "What happens now?"

  "Now," Dr. Craft said, "you decide. The Poseidon responds to you. The Stone has bonded with you. You can walk away—though I don't believe the Stone will allow that for long—or you can accept what you were born to be."

  Carson's eyes narrowed. "And what exactly is that?"

  "The Keeper of the Light," Dr. Craft answered simply. "The first of seven who will either save humanity or watch it fall to the Shadows."

  Carson closed his eyes, feeling the weight of generations pressing down on him. When he opened them again, he asked the question that mattered most.

  "Why didn't they love me enough to stay?"

  * * *

  Carson watched as Dr. Craft's hologram approached the central console, his translucent fingers dancing across controls that responded despite his incorporeal state.

  "The Stone contains memories of every Keeper who carried it," Dr. Craft explained. "I can help you access them through the ship's neural interface. It might provide context you need."

  Carson hesitated, hand instinctively covering the Stone beneath his shirt. "Will it hurt?"

  "Not physically. But experiencing another's consciousness is... disorienting."

  Before Carson could reconsider, the Stone pulsed warmly against his chest. The command center's lights dimmed as golden tendrils of energy spread from the Stone, creating a web-like pattern across his torso.

  "Relax your mind," Dr. Craft instructed. "Don't fight what you see."

  Carson's vision blurred. The room tilted sideways, then dissolved completely.

  Heat. Unbearable heat. Carson gasped as scorching air filled his lungs. He stood on red Martian soil, the dome of an early colony visible in the distance. His hands—not his hands—clutched the Stone while blood seeped from a wound in his—her—side.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  "They must not find it," a woman's voice emerged from his own throat. "The Keys were never meant for those who cannot transcend."

  Carson felt her determination, her fear, her resolve as she buried the Stone beneath a rock formation, marking it with a symbol only another Keeper would recognize.

  The scene dissolved. Cold replaced heat.

  Europa's icy surface stretched before him. Different hands now—dark-skinned, calloused—working delicate instruments to extract something glowing blue from deep ice. The Europa Key. Carson knew its name without being told, felt the reverence this Keeper held for it.

  "Both Keys respond to each other," a man's voice, accented and low. "They must be separated before they fall into TITAN's hands."

  Carson experienced the man's bitter regret, his certainty that humanity wasn't ready for what the Keys offered.

  The scene shifted again. A woman with amber eyes stared into a mirror, the Light Stone hanging from her neck. Carson recognized her from Dr. Craft's archives—Amara Lin, the Keeper who had hidden the Stone during the First Schism.

  "I carry the burden until one worthy is born," she whispered. "The bloodline continues, but the spirit must be right."

  Carson felt her loneliness crush his chest, her decades of waiting for a successor who never came during her lifetime.

  Images cascaded faster now—a Keeper fleeing through Celestia Station's early construction, another defending the Stone against shadow creatures on Phobos, a young boy discovering his inheritance in the ruins of Earth.

  Then suddenly, he was looking through Dr. Craft's eyes, feeling his ancestor's mixture of pride and terror as he held infant Carson, watching the Stone pulse in response to the baby's presence.

  "He's the one," Dr. Craft whispered. "After all this time, he's the one."

  The love that flooded through Carson was overwhelming—a fierce, protective devotion that transcended mere biological connection. Dr. Craft had known, even then, what Carson would face. The regret of separation tore through both of them.

  Another shift. Carson stood in a vast chamber unlike anything in TITAN records. Seven pedestals arranged in a perfect circle, each holding a Key. The Light Stone at the center, connecting them all. The Keeper whose eyes he looked through understood something profound—the Keys were never meant to be weapons but tools of transcendence. Humanity's test.

  "The pattern repeats," a voice both ancient and familiar echoed. "Seven instincts to transcend. Seven Keys to unlock. One choice to make."

  Carson gasped as his consciousness slammed back into his body. He staggered, caught himself against the command console. The Stone's glow faded gradually beneath his shirt.

  "Carson!" Link's voice seemed distant despite his friend standing right beside him.

  Carson blinked, his own identity reasserting itself after being submerged in so many others. But something had changed. The Stone no longer felt like a foreign object attached to him—it was part of him now, an extension of his consciousness.

  "I saw them," he whispered. "All of them. They carried it before me."

  Dr. Craft nodded. "And now you understand why the Keys were scattered. Why they must be found by those who can transcend their base instincts."

  Carson straightened, newfound certainty flowing through him. "The Shadow wants them too. But without transcendence, they become corrupted."

  "Yes," Dr. Craft confirmed. "That's what happened to Prince Roman. He found the Mercury Key, but couldn't transcend greed. Now it corrupts him."

  Carson looked at his companions—Link's unwavering loyalty, Wind's careful assessment, Mira's conflicted devotion. For the first time, he truly understood. He wasn't just Carson Craft, underachieving miner. He was part of something ancient, something vital.

  "I know what we need to do," he said, the echoes of past Keepers' resolve strengthening his voice. "We need to find the other Keys before Roman does."

  * * *

  Carson's eyes adjusted to the sudden dimming of lights in the command center. The headache from the memory transfer lingered at his temples, but his vision had cleared enough to focus on what was happening around him. Dr. Craft—or rather, the holographic representation of his ancestor—stood at the center of the room, hands moving through the air with practiced precision.

  "Let me show you," Dr. Craft said, his voice carrying the authoritative tone of a lifetime educator.

  The air between them shimmered and transformed. Pinpoints of light coalesced into a perfect miniature of the solar system, each planet rendered in stunning detail. Carson felt a flutter of recognition—the same model he'd seen in his dreams, though never this clear.

  "The Architects," Dr. Craft began, "were not gods, though the Theists have mythologized them as such. They were entities that existed beyond our dimensional understanding."

  The holographic sun pulsed, sending ripples through the projection. Carson leaned forward, the scientist in him overtaking the bewilderment of the past hours. He noticed Link doing the same, his friend's eyes wide with wonder.

  "They created the Keys as interface tools—bridges between their consciousness and our reality." Dr. Craft's fingers traced seven points in the solar system model, each illuminating with a distinctive color. "Each Key resonates with a specific location and a fundamental aspect of human consciousness."

  The Light Stone beneath Carson's shirt warmed slightly, as if acknowledging its place in this cosmic arrangement.

  "The Light Stone—or First Key—was placed on Earth." The blue-green planet glowed golden in the projection. "It represents our most primal instinct: fear and self-preservation."

  Carson felt his pulse quicken. The sensation of multiple lifetimes of fear that had washed through him during the memory transfer still echoed in his mind.

  "The Europa Key," Dr. Craft continued as the Jovian moon illuminated in electric blue, "represents tribal identity—our need to belong and exclude others."

  Link shifted uncomfortably beside Carson. Something in that description had touched a nerve.

  "The Mars Key embodies our drive for reproduction and continuation." The red planet pulsed with verdant green energy. "The Venus Key represents our desire for control and dominance." The morning star glowed rose-gold.

  Wind's eyes narrowed at this, her posture straightening almost imperceptibly. Carson caught the reaction, filing it away.

  "The Mercury Key manifests our acquisition instinct—resource gathering, or in its basest form, greed." The innermost planet shimmered with quicksilver light.

  Mira's sharp intake of breath drew Carson's attention. Her royal upbringing suddenly contextualized in his mind—wealth, privilege, power. All tied to that instinct.

  "The Saturn Key represents our awareness of time and mortality." The ringed planet glowed amber. "And the Final Key—" Dr. Craft paused, his expression solemn, "—transcends our most fundamental illusion: separateness itself."

  The holographic display shifted, the seven points of light connecting in a complex geometric pattern. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as the pattern rotated, revealing dimensions that shouldn't have been possible in three-dimensional space.

  "The Architects designed these Keys as both test and gift," Dr. Craft explained. "Each requires transcendence of the instinct it represents before its full power can be accessed."

  Carson's mind raced, connecting fragments of technical knowledge with what he was seeing. "They're dimensional interfaces," he said, the realization striking him. "Not just tools or weapons—they're gateways to perception beyond normal human capability."

  Dr. Craft smiled, a hint of pride crossing his features. "Exactly. That's why untranscended usage creates void breaches—tears in reality that allow Shadow entities to enter our dimension."

  The hologram shifted again, showing dark tendrils seeping through cracks in the fabric of space around each Key point. Carson felt the Stone pulse against his chest, a warning.

  "The portal technology you've experienced is just one application," Dr. Craft continued. "Each Key unlocks different aspects of higher-dimensional interaction, but only when properly transcended."

  "That's why Roman's becoming corrupted," Carson said, pieces falling into place. "He's using the Mercury Key without transcending greed."

  "Yes. The Shadow Keys aren't separate artifacts—they're corruptions of the originals, accessed without the necessary spiritual evolution."

  The room temperature normalized as the display shifted to historical images—early human colonies, the first TITAN outposts, Theist temples on Mars.

  "Both TITAN and the Theists discovered fragments of Architect technology," Dr. Craft explained. "But neither fully understood the consciousness component. They approached the Keys as mere power sources or technological artifacts."

  Carson frowned, recalling his TITAN education. "Nothing in our history mentions Architects or Keys."

  "That knowledge was deliberately suppressed," Dr. Craft said. "Which brings us to the First Schism."

  The hologram showed two human factions separating, one toward technological development, the other toward spiritual interpretation.

  "What caused the split between TITAN and the Theists?" Carson asked, sensing they'd reached the heart of something crucial. "Was it just different interpretations of the same discovery?"

  * * *

  Dr. Craft's holographic hand swept through the timeline, and the image shifted to a stark scene of conflict. Carson's breath caught as he watched the simulation unfold with uncomfortable clarity—far more vivid than any TITAN historical record he'd ever accessed.

  "The First Schism wasn't a philosophical disagreement," Dr. Craft said, his voice taking on a harder edge. "It was a war."

  The Light Stone beneath Carson's shirt grew uncomfortably hot against his skin. He resisted the urge to pull it out, sensing its reaction to the unfolding truth.

  In the simulation, a research facility exploded into flames. Carson recognized the architecture—early TITAN design, utilitarian and efficient. Bodies lay scattered across laboratory floors. Equations and diagrams on shattered screens showed fragments of what Carson now recognized as portal theory.

  "After Earth's collapse, the survivors brought more than just technology with them," Dr. Craft continued. "They brought fragments of Architect artifacts recovered from ancient sites. The first Key was discovered beneath the ruins of Alexandria."

  The simulation showed a team of researchers—some in early TITAN uniforms, others in robes that would evolve into Theist garments—gathered around a glowing object.

  "Both sides recognized its power," Dr. Craft said. "But they fundamentally disagreed on its nature."

  Carson watched as the unified research team fractured before his eyes. One faction, led by a stern woman in a TITAN uniform, secured the artifact behind layers of containment fields. The other, following a charismatic man with intense eyes, knelt before it in reverence.

  "Director Eliza Chen believed the artifact was dangerous technology requiring strict control." The simulation highlighted the TITAN leader. "Prophet Darius saw it as divine confirmation of humanity's cosmic purpose."

  Wind shifted beside Carson, her expression unreadable. Mira's eyes had narrowed, her royal posture becoming more pronounced.

  "Both were partially right," Dr. Craft said. "And catastrophically wrong."

  The simulation accelerated, showing armed conflicts erupting across early settlements. Carson recognized Mars, Europa, Mercury—each location corresponding to a Key. His TITAN education had labeled these as "resource allocation disputes" or "terraforming accidents."

  "TITAN suppressed the spiritual interpretation, calling it dangerous superstition," Dr. Craft explained. "The Theists claimed TITAN was corrupting divine gifts for power. Neither understood the Keys required both technological understanding and consciousness evolution."

  The Stone pulsed against Carson's chest, neither hot nor cold now—almost as if listening.

  "My team recognized the danger of partial understanding," Dr. Craft continued as the simulation showed a third, smaller group extracting artifacts during battles. "We formed the Watchers—dedicated to protecting the Keys until humanity was ready."

  Link leaned forward. "That's what you meant about inheritance. Carson isn't just getting the Stone—he's inheriting your mission."

  Carson felt a weight settle across his shoulders. Every fact he'd been taught about humanity's expansion through the solar system was being rewritten before his eyes. TITAN's technological dominance, the Theist religious schism, even Hera's separation—all of it connected to the Keys.

  "The Nomads formed during this period too," Dr. Craft added as the simulation showed scattered groups fleeing the conflict. "Rejecting both interpretations, they scattered throughout the system, developing their own understanding of the artifacts they encountered."

  Carson watched the solar system fracture into the factions he knew—TITAN controlling the primary resources and infrastructure, Theists claiming Mars and spiritual authority, Hera isolating itself, Nomads dispersing to the fringes. His entire understanding of history was being rewritten, not with new facts, but with the context that connected them.

  "So my education," Carson said slowly, "was propaganda."

  "Selective truth," Dr. Craft corrected. "TITAN emphasized technological progress and stability. Theists emphasized spiritual connection and divine purpose. Hera emphasized harmony and balance. All contained fragments of truth."

  Carson felt a strange vertigo as his worldview realigned. The Stone seemed to respond, its warmth spreading through him not as heat but as clarity.

  "And now history's repeating," he said, looking at his companions. "Roman seeking Keys for Theist power, TITAN hunting them for technological control, everyone convinced they're right."

  Dr. Craft nodded, his expression grave. "The difference is you, Carson. You carry not just the Stone, but the potential to transcend the divisions that have fractured humanity for centuries."

  * * *

  Carson sank onto the edge of the bed in his newly assigned quarters, the weight of history and expectation pressing down heavier than any mining equipment he'd ever hauled. The Poseidon had generated this space specifically for him—a fact both comforting and unsettling. The lighting dimmed automatically as he rubbed his temples, matching his desire for shadows without him having to voice it.

  "Privacy mode," he murmured, testing his authority. The room responded with a subtle shift in air pressure and a soft chime confirming his command. The walls seemed to thicken, creating a cocoon of silence around him.

  The Light Stone rested against his chest, cooler now but still present—like a sleeping animal that could wake at any moment. Carson pulled it out, letting it dangle from its chain as he studied its contours. This small object had upended his carefully constructed life of deliberate mediocrity.

  "I never asked for this," he whispered to the empty room.

  The ship hummed in response, a sound that felt oddly like acknowledgment. The temperature adjusted, becoming slightly warmer as goosebumps had risen on his arms. Carson laughed bitterly at the attentiveness of his surroundings. Even the bed beneath him had subtly reshaped to better support his exhausted body.

  He stood and paced, five steps one way, five steps back—the dimensions of a standard TITAN mining quarters. The habit felt grounding even as this room was clearly three times that size. His fingers raked through his hair, pulling slightly at the roots to feel something sharp and real amidst the surreal.

  "A Keeper," he muttered. "The heir to some cosmic test. Dr. Craft's descendant." Each title felt like a weight added to his shoulders.

  The Stone warmed slightly against his palm as he clutched it. Carson frowned at it. "You could have picked someone else. Someone who wanted to be special."

  That had been his life's strategy—avoid standing out, stay with Link, maintain control through invisibility. Now he was apparently central to some grand design that predated TITAN itself.

  A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. The door slid open to reveal Link, his familiar presence instantly easing some of Carson's tension.

  "Ship said you were having an existential crisis," Link said, leaning against the doorframe. "Thought you might want company."

  Carson snorted. "Ship's getting chatty."

  "Ship's worried about you." Link entered, the door closing behind him. "So am I."

  Carson sank back onto the bed, shoulders slumping. "How are you so calm about all this? Yesterday we were miners. Today I'm supposedly the key to humanity's future."

  Link shrugged, sitting beside him. "Yesterday you were pretending to be just a miner. You've been hiding from who you are since we were kids."

  The accusation stung because of its truth. Carson had deliberately failed tests, avoided promotions, sabotaged his own potential.

  "I did it to stay with you," Carson said quietly.

  "I know." Link bumped his shoulder against Carson's. "And I appreciated it. But maybe this is who you were always supposed to be."

  Carson stood again, restless energy propelling him back to pacing. "That's exactly what I've been running from. Being 'special' means being alone. It means expectations and scrutiny and—"

  "And responsibility," Link finished for him. "Which you've always taken anyway, just quietly."

  The Stone warmed against Carson's chest, as if agreeing with Link. Carson pulled it out again, watching its subtle glow pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.

  "What if I refuse?" Carson asked, more to himself than Link. "What if I just... give it to someone else?"

  The Stone cooled immediately, almost painfully cold against his skin. Link raised an eyebrow.

  "I think you just got your answer."

  Carson sighed, letting the Stone fall back against his chest. "I never wanted to be important."

  "Too late," Link said with a half-smile. "But here's the thing—you get to decide what kind of Keeper you'll be. Your ancestor built this ship. The Stone chose you. But how you handle it? That's still up to you."

  The room's lighting shifted subtly, warming as Carson's thoughts began to clarify. The ship was responding to his emotional state, creating an environment that supported his process rather than directing it.

  "I won't be TITAN's puppet," Carson said firmly. "Or the Theists' messiah."

  "Good," Link replied. "Be Carson."

  The simplicity of that statement cut through the complexity of everything else. The Stone warmed again, comfortably this time.

  "I'll do this," Carson said finally. "But on my terms. No predetermined destiny. No faction allegiance. Just... what's right."

  The moment the words left his mouth, the Stone pulsed with golden light, briefly illuminating the entire room. The ship hummed in what felt like approval, and for the first time since discovering his heritage, Carson felt the weight on his shoulders become bearable.