The corridor was silent. Not the quiet of absence, but the waiting kind of quiet, thick with metal and Rift energy. Fluorescent strips overhead flickered as if uncertain of their own existence. Billy crouched behind a support pillar, every sense alert, boots pressing lightly against the floor. He had seen this place on schematics, memorized the path, but nothing prepared him for the smell, the ozone sting, the mechanical tang, the human blood lingering in vents from previous incursions. “Team status?” he whispered into the comm link.“Node secured,” came Marla’s calm reply, her fingers tapping rhythmically against a control panel. “Nothing yet. No signs of life.”Billy exhaled slowly, keeping his back pressed against the cold metal. The main datacore was just ahead, the beating heart of Hayes Fortress. Every operation, every Rift Beast, every projection Andre had sent to stall them had been feeding this single, monstrous intelligence. Destroy it, and the fortress might fall. Fail,

The inner sanctum collapsed in layers. Stone plates slid from the ceiling and shattered on the floor. Light panels sparked and died.Data streams poured from fractured consoles like liquid glass, symbols breaking apart mid-air before dissolving into static. The space no longer obeyed clean angles. Walls bent inward. Corridors stretched and folded back on themselves.Oliver pushed through the last security barrier as it tore itself apart. The door did not open. It peeled away.Reality warped around his shoulders as he stepped through. His boots hit the floor hard. Cracks raced outward in a web beneath his weight, glowing faint gold before stabilizing.Andre waited at the center of the chamber. He stood on a raised platform surrounded by broken machinery and floating shards of metal. Cables fed into his back and arms, pulsing with Rift light. Half his face looked carved from shadowed crystal. The other half still looked human, though the skin flickered like a failing projection. His

The explosion ended without a sound. Fire vanished first. Then pressure faded. Then even the wind stopped moving.What remained was dust suspended in the air, glowing blue as if lit from inside. It drifted slowly across the Sable Plateau, settling over cracked ground that no longer looked like stone. The surface reflected the sky like polished glass, fractured by long scars that still leaked faint light.At the center of the devastation, a shape moved. Oliver Beckett pushed himself up from one knee. His gauntlet scraped against the glassy ground and left a shallow groove. The metal smoked. Sections of his armor had melted into warped plates. The Traveler insignia on his chest had burned away, leaving bare alloy and scorched fabric.He stayed kneeling for several seconds. Blue fire crawled along his arms in thin lines, then faded. His Reality Anchor pulsed once. It dimmed. It pulsed again, weaker than before.His sword stood planted in the ground in front of him. The blade had pierc

The Vigilant Dawn cut through the twilight sky like a blade, silver thrusters leaving streaks against the dying sun.Below, Solara Vant’s h orizon shimmered with lights, a mosaic of celebration and relief.Cities along the return route had lit beacons in honor of the returning fleet, lanterns floating from rooftops and sky-bridges, drifting toward the stars as if carrying silent prayers. From the observation deck, Oliver leaned on the railing, armor scorched and dented, his gauntlets still humming faintly with residual Reality Anchor energy. The black shard rested in his palm, its surface slick with an unnatural darkness, pulsing slowly in rhythm with his heartbeat.Iris approached quietly, her steps muted against the alloy floor. Her eyes swept the horizon, then softened as they met his. “You should rest,” she said, voice calm but firm. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “The fleet is secure. The world is looking at us. But you’re not invincible, Oliver.”He did not respond at onc

The hangar smelled of fuel, dust, and ozone. Dim strips of light hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows across crates stacked high like silent sentinels. Billy moved along the corridor, his boots clicking sharply against the metal grating. He kept his head down, glancing at the walls where old transport schematics and repair logs were pinned in haphazard order. The building was abandoned in name only; the air vibrated with whispered transactions, the faint hum of illicit commerce.At the far end of the hall, a figure stepped out of the darkness. He wore a long coat stitched with pockets, each seam glinting with metal clasps, and a wide-brimmed hat that hid most of his face. The faint glow of the hangar’s emergency lights outlined him, creating a halo of menace. “You’re late,” the man said, his voice smooth, controlled.Billy shook his head, closing the distance between them. “Traffic,” he said, his tone casual, though his eyes scanned every corner. “Never thought I’d meet in a