The drones hovered in perfect stillness.Davion had never seen silence look so violent.They hung midair like suspended blades, lights dimmed, weapons powered down at a single unseen command. The tunnel felt tighter, heavier—like the city itself was holding its breath.The man stood between Davion and the hub, calm as if chaos wasn’t tearing the world apart above them.“Step away from the door,” Davion said, weapon raised.The man didn’t flinch. “You won’t fire.”Davion’s finger tightened.“Because,” the man continued, voice smooth, “you already know it wouldn’t matter.”Behind Davion, Mira staggered into the tunnel, clutching her side, smoke clinging to her hair. She froze when she saw the drones—when she saw the man.“What did you do?” she demanded.The man glanced at her, assessing. “You fought well. Inefficient. But brave.”Mira spat blood onto the concrete. “That’s not an answer.”He smiled faintly. “I paused the lattice. Every node. Every drone.”Beverly’s voice came through the

Davion woke to silence.Not the peaceful kind. The kind that rang in his ears, sharp and hollow, like the world had been scooped out and left behind. His body felt wrong—heavy, numb, distant. For a moment, he couldn’t tell where he ended and the rubble began.Then pain arrived.It came in waves, rolling through his chest, his head, his limbs, each one demanding attention. He sucked in a breath that burned all the way down and coughed hard, dust tearing at his throat.Light flickered above him.Broken lights.Sparks.He shifted, groaning, and a slab of concrete slid off his shoulder. The movement sent a spike of agony through his ribs, but it also reminded him of something important.He could move.“Mira…” he rasped.His voice echoed weakly through the collapsed tunnel.No answer.Panic surged, sharp and sudden. Davion forced himself upright, ignoring the protest from his body. The hub was gone—reduced to twisted metal and melted walls. Smoke curled lazily through the air, carrying the

They didn’t sleep that night.Davion sat on the floor of the temporary command room—an abandoned transit office with cracked screens and flickering lights—his back against the wall, knees drawn up, eyes fixed on nothing. Every time he closed them, the hum grew louder. Not painful. Not yet. Just… aware.Like something breathing with him.Across the room, Mira paced. She had changed her bandages twice already, more out of frustration than necessity. Jared leaned over a table covered in maps and half-functioning tablets, arguing quietly with Beverly through a static-filled holo.“We can’t keep pretending this is a coincidence,” Beverly said. “The attacks stopped when Davion left the area.”Mira stopped pacing. “That doesn’t prove anything.”“It proves enough,” Beverly replied. “Whatever he’s carrying—it’s acting like a beacon. Not just to the Custodians.”Davion finally spoke. “To who else?”Silence.Then Beverly said carefully, “To anyone who knows how to listen.”Davion pushed himself

The first shot wasn’t meant to kill him.Davion felt that instantly—the trajectory, the restraint behind it. The round shattered the concrete inches from his head, forcing him back as armed figures poured into the ruins from three directions. They moved with precision, spacing perfect, weapons trained but not firing.Containment.He backed toward the broken wall, pulse racing. “I said no.”The woman didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. “You misunderstand. This isn’t an offer anymore.”The hum under Davion’s skin surged, furious, hungry. The world sharpened—edges glowing, sound stretching, time bending just enough to make space for instinct.He moved.Davion launched himself sideways as a stun burst tore through the space where he’d been standing. He hit the ground rolling, came up firing, and felt the hum respond like a living thing. The air rippled.Three attackers slammed into the ground as if crushed by invisible weight.They didn’t get back up.The woman’s eyes gleamed—not

The moment the residual stabilized, the shelter stopped feeling safe.Not because of alarms or incoming threats—but because reality itself felt thinner, stretched like fabric pulled too tight. Davion could feel it in his bones. The hum wasn’t loud. It wasn’t violent.It was awake.The girl stood a few steps away from him, her form no longer flickering wildly but still translucent, light bending strangely around her edges. She stared at her hands as if they didn’t belong to her.“I can feel the floor,” she whispered. “I don’t remember the last time I felt anything.”Mira didn’t move. Her weapon was lowered, but her posture was rigid, ready to react to anything. “Davion,” she said carefully, “tell me this isn’t permanent.”Davion swallowed. “I don’t know.”That was the truth—and it terrified him.Beverly’s voice came through the comm again, sharp with panic she was clearly trying to hide. “Davion, I’m seeing lattice activity on levels that shouldn’t be possible. You didn’t just extract