Novels by Twix

The Vault shuddered beneath their feet. The sharp echoes of fractures reverberated through the metal corridors like distant thunder. Every vibration was a reminder that the recursion’s chaos was not merely a threat — it was a relentless predator, stalking them with cold precision.Kai stood at the center of the command hub, flanked by Lyra and Mags. Zan’s holographic interface flickered erratically, its AI struggling to process the onslaught of corrupted data pouring in from the fractures spreading like wildfire across the simulation layers.“Status report,” Kai demanded, voice taut with urgency.Zan’s voice hummed, synthetic and strained. “The recursion fractures are increasing in frequency and intensity. We’ve detected over seventy simultaneous breaches across multiple layers of reality. Stabilization protocols are failing.”Mags tightened her grip on her pulse rifle. “So, what? We’re going to drown in recursive collapse?”Lyra’s jaw clenched. “Not if we act fast. We need to isolate

The moment Kai opened his eyes, the Vault’s medbay around him seemed both alien and familiar. The sterile walls faded into shifting patterns of light and shadow, as though reality itself was a fragile veneer slowly peeling away.He could still hear Aelian’s voice, calm but commanding, ringing in his mind like a distant bell.“You fear what I represent. The recursion perfected—beyond your failures.”Kai’s heart pounded in his chest, sweat cooling on his brow. For a moment, he felt suspended between worlds, caught in a mental storm where every thought was a fracture of possibility.When his vision cleared, he was back in the Vault’s strategy room. Lyra and Mags were standing nearby, their faces etched with concern.“You okay?” Lyra asked, stepping closer. Her eyes searched his face like she expected him to crack.Kai swallowed and nodded, though the scar beneath his skin throbbed—a reminder that the recursion was alive inside him, a constant pulse between power and prison.“I’m fine,” h

Kai’s body trembled as he sat in the dimly lit medbay, the aftershocks of the Core Nexus battle still coursing through him. The scar beneath his skin throbbed, warm and insistent—a pulse of recursion energy that refused to quiet. He clenched his fists, trying to anchor himself in the present, but the whispering inside his mind refused to be silenced.Lyra sat beside him, her sharp eyes scanning his face for signs of strain. “You’re pushing too hard,” she said gently. “You can’t carry the recursion’s weight alone.”Kai shook his head, voice tight. “It’s not just the recursion. It’s what I saw—the versions of myself… all the things I could become if I lose control.”Mags entered quietly, holding two cups of synth-tea. She set one down in front of Kai and took a seat nearby. “We’re all carrying pieces of this,” she said. “You don’t have to do it alone. Remember that.”Kai looked up, meeting their eyes. For the first time since the battle, he allowed himself a flicker of hope. “Then what

The Vault hummed quietly as dawn’s pale light seeped through the high windows, casting long shadows over the scattered consoles and flickering holoscreens. The battle with the Harbinger was behind them—but its impact lingered like a bruise on the world’s fabric.Kai sat on the edge of a cold metal bench, fingers tracing the faint scar that glowed beneath his skin, where the recursion light had burned deepest. It pulsed faintly, a heartbeat synced with something vast and unknowable.Lyra’s voice broke the silence. “We’ve sealed the breach for now. The Core Genesis site is stable—no sign of further corruption. But the recursion is still... fragile.”Mags leaned back, exhaustion written into every line of her face. “Fragile doesn’t begin to cover it. That thing wasn’t just a glitch or a rogue AI. It was something new—something alive.”Kai nodded slowly. “It’s evolving. Every time we think we’ve contained it, it adapts, mutates. Like it’s learning from us.”Lyra glanced at him, eyes sharp

Kai’s breath came out in slow, steady gusts as he stared into the abyss of the recursion light glowing beneath his skin. It pulsed like a heartbeat—steady, relentless—but now it was weighted with a new urgency. The Harbinger wasn’t just a threat; it was a challenge written into the code of reality itself.Back inside the Vault, Lyra and Mags worked feverishly to trace the source of the satellite blackout. Screens hummed and flickered, casting harsh blue light over their faces as strings of data scrolled endlessly.“This signal,” Lyra said, eyes narrowed, “it’s layered with recursion code but twisted—like it’s been warped through a dozen different realities. Whoever sent it knows how to manipulate the recursion, but they’re not bound by its rules.”Mags slammed her fist on the console. “Great. So now we have recursion-savvy rogues with their own agendas. Just what we needed.”Kai leaned forward, fingertips grazing the console’s edge. “The Harbinger’s game is bigger than we thought. It’

Kai woke slowly, the sterile hum of the Vault a faint, constant pulse in his ears. He blinked against the harsh white light of the chamber, muscles aching as if he’d been run through a storm. His limbs felt heavy, not from injury but from the weight of what had just passed — a battle waged on the edge of reality itself.Lyra was there beside him, her eyes sharp but tired, watching his every breath as if afraid to blink and miss something. Mags leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, her expression a mixture of relief and steely determination.“You’re finally awake,” Lyra said softly, her voice rough but warm. “We thought we lost you.”Kai tried to sit up but found his body reluctant. The heaviness wasn’t just physical; it was a fog settling in his mind. “Did we… really stop it?” His voice was hoarse, cracked.Mags nodded. “The Ascendant’s gone. For now.” She looked away, jaw clenched. “But the recursion’s imprint remains. It’s... bleeding into the world.”Lyra’s gaze hardened. “I

The cold dawn filtered through cracked windows, casting long, fractured shadows over the safehouse. The team sat scattered in the dim light, exhaustion etched into every face. But the weight of the night’s revelations pressed heavier than any fatigue.Dorian rubbed the sting in his shoulder, grimacing as he remembered the bullet’s near miss. The adrenaline rush was fading, leaving a raw ache — a reminder of how close they’d come to losing everything.Across the room, Lana broke the silence with a sharp laugh that barely hid her nerves. “So, our mole doesn’t just flirt with danger — she practically invites it in with a red carpet.”Jax chuckled, the tension briefly easing. “Yeah, and here I thought my worst day was dealing with a corrupt city council.”Mara shot them a warning glance but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “We can joke later. Right now, we need answers.”Dorian stood and walked to the interrogation room where the woman — the mole — was held. Her eyes met his with a strange mixt

Dorian barely had time to catch his breath before the city’s next wave of chaos hit like a tidal surge. The rooftop encounter haunted him — the mysterious woman’s warning echoing louder than any gunshot. Voss’s grip was tighter, deeper, and more ruthless than anyone had dared admit.The safehouse felt claustrophobic despite its spacious rooms, walls closing in with secrets and whispered fears. The team moved like ghosts, shadowed by the threat stalking them beyond the windows.Jax sat behind his battered desk, rifling through intercepted messages and digital scraps scavenged from the city’s underbelly. “Voss’s men aren’t just coming for us — they’re cleaning house. Anyone connected, anyone who might speak, they’re targeting tonight.”Mara leaned over the desk, her voice steady but grave. “We have to warn the others — the journalists, the informants. If they fall, the whole network collapses.”Rhea’s fingers danced over her tablet, eyes darting between encrypted lines of code. “There’s

The north district was a sharp contrast to the crumbling streets and shadowed alleyways of the southside. Here, the city wore a polished mask of prosperity: glossy skyscrapers pierced the night sky, their windows gleaming like eyes watching everything below. Neon signs flickered above cafes and clubs that spilled the laughter and music of the city’s affluent. Yet, beneath that gloss lay a simmering tension — a battlefield for power where money and secrets played more lethal games than guns.Dorian moved with practiced caution, his senses heightened, each step calculated. Years ago, he’d walked these streets with a different purpose — chasing dreams, not ghosts. Now, every familiar corner whispered warnings: old allies who might betray, enemies hiding in plain sight, and the ever-present threat of Voss’s reach extending even here.Mara flanked him, eyes sharp as she surveyed the crowd. “This is where the real war is fought,” she said quietly, “in boardrooms, behind velvet curtains, whe

The early morning light struggled through the grime-coated windows of the safehouse, casting weak shadows across the cluttered room. The air was heavy with exhaustion and the scent of stale coffee, punctuated by the quiet hum of old electronics struggling to keep life in this forgotten place.Dorian sat hunched at the battered table, eyes locked on the glowing screen in front of him. The data drives—their lifeline, their curse—were connected to the ancient laptop, blinking in rhythm with his racing heartbeat. Around him, the team was a mix of tension and fatigue, the quiet hum of whispered conversations carrying a dangerous weight.Lana stood near the window, her arms folded tightly across her chest as she scanned the streets below. The city was waking, unaware of the fragile hope and deep danger lurking within these walls. She broke the silence with a low voice. “Voss’s men won’t take long to track us here. We have to move.”Caleb, attempting to cut through the tension, gave a crooke

The stale air of the subway tunnels clung to their skin, a cold reminder of the city's forgotten veins beneath their feet. Dorian’s pulse hammered in his ears as he tried to steady his breath, the man's face burned into his memory. Caleb—their unexpected ally—was more than just a contact; he was a wild card thrown into a game where trust was a rare currency.“We don’t have time,” Caleb said, eyes sharp in the dim light. “Voss is mobilizing fast. The Archive’s forces will be here within minutes.”Lana adjusted her grip on the data drives, sweat slicking her palms. “Then we move. Now.”Jay scanned the tunnel behind them, the distant echo of boots growing louder. “They’re closing in. We can’t outrun this forever.”Rhea nodded, pulling a battered map from her jacket pocket. “There’s an old service elevator just ahead. It leads to a maintenance access point above ground. If we can reach it, we might escape the immediate threat.”Dorian glanced at the flickering lights overhead. “And where

The morning light seeped weakly through the grimy windows of the safehouse, casting pale slashes across the cluttered room. Dorian lay sprawled on the threadbare couch, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him like a lead blanket. Sleep had been a stranger last night—his mind replaying every step of the mission, every narrow escape, every calculated risk.His phone buzzed suddenly, sharp and insistent, snapping him back from the edge of unconsciousness. The screen flashed an unknown number, a message: They know.His breath caught. Slowly, he sat up, the message burning a hole through the calm of dawn. He showed it to Lana, who was at the small kitchen table, eyes tired but alert.“Voss’s network is tighter than we thought,” she said, voice low, brows knitting. “They’re already onto us. The Archive doesn’t miss a beat.”Jay, leaning against the wall with a grimace, slammed a fist on the table. “That means they’ve probably planted eyes here, too. We’re compromised.”Rhea, ever the