2025-05-22 23:21:27
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The Breach
Andrew walked at the center of the group, flanked by two silent soldier s in stone-colored armor etched with living glyphs. He wore no armor—just a dark tunic, ash-marked from the last skirmish, his sleeves rolled up, hands clenched.The air grew hotter as they neared the trial ground. Beneath the floor, magma rivers pulsed in ancient circuits of glowing orange. Gusts of volcanic wind rolled in from the cliffs.“This where it happens?” Andrew asked without turning.The soldier on his right nodded. “This is the Cradle of Verdicts. The Trial begins here.”Behind them, high in the observation alcove, Hannah and the others watched through a transparent barrier. Hannah stood with her arms folded tightly over her stomach. Hundreds watched silently, some stood, some sat on carved benches.Then a small child, tugging on his grandmother’s sleeve said,“Why’s he down there alone?” the boy whispered.The woman leaned in, “Because that’s the test, child. He has to stand in the flame by himself.
Chamber Of Trials
The City of Ashbloods was vastly built to the extent that the Order of councils building was constructed from solid black stone, illuminated by soft pulses of energy from the glowing root veins crawling across the walls and ceiling.The circular floor space was surrounded by a half-ring of elevated platforms, where the Ashblood council sat—seven members, old, severe, watching.Andrew stood in the center with Hannah, Taylor, Frederick, Leon, and the other Twelve behind him. The silver-bearded elder who had brought them here and he man who had opened the hidden gate in the jungle stood beside him, hands folded calmly.The council had been quiet until now.But then one of them stood. He was tall, bald, and had a jagged scar across one side of his face. His robes were dark brown, patterned with old tribal lines. “I knew it the moment he stepped into this city,” the man growled. “I can smell it on him.”The room fell quiet again. Eyes turned toward Andrew.“Smell what?” Andrew asked, conf
Futuristic City Of Ashbloods
Fires glowed softly around the perimeter, casting shadows across the tents. Children slept beneath emergency thermal blankets. Some still trembled in their sleep, haunted by Eden’s attack. The jungle was quiet—almost too quiet.Andrew stood near the shore, arms folded, his eyes on the stars. The sea wind carried the scent of moss and ash. Behind him, Taylor was overseeing the last of the portable comms being hooked into the Eden cells.“We’re good to lock down for the night,” Taylor said, stretching. “I’ll set up the triangulation alarm perimeter.”Andrew nodded. “We rest here. No shifting. No upgrades. Just… rest.”Taylor tilted his head. “Didn’t think you believed in that anymore.”Andrew gave a tired smile. “I’m starting to.”Then came the movement. From the village path, slow and steady, an old man stepped out of the darkness.The same one who had offered them shelter. The villagers had said nothing all day—but this man had not even uttered a word.Until now. He lifted a hand and
Another Volcanic Ridge
Just before the Eden breach…Zahara barely had a second to react before the conduit above her snapped loose. Without thinking, she dove over the exposed relay Taylor had been patching earlier.Metal slammed down across her back. The shock stole her breath. Sparks flew. Smoke poured from the ruptured panel.Her arm burned. The left side of her ribs screamed.But the relay—the thing keeping the ship’s med systems alive—was still intact.She gasped into the comm. “Still here… relay’s fine…”And then everything went black.**********Taylor was hunched over the console, sweat running down his neck.“Zahara’s not answering,” he said, eyes locked on the power grid readout. “She was working under the conduit near the stabilizer. If that went—”A weak groan crackled through comms.“…engine… ng…”Elsa looked up, tense. “She’s still alive. Barely.”Andrew didn’t wait. “Let’s go.”Moments later, they found her pinned under half a panel, her arm scorched, breathing shallow. Her shirt was torn from
We Have Been Fooled Twice
************Giant displays lined the curved wall, each screen reflecting the final moments of Andrew Everest’s broadcast—his voice crackling through a hundred data streams.Muerte leaned forward from the high-back command seat, fingers interlaced in front of his steel-plated jaw. On the screen, Andrew’s final words repeated one last time:“They built walls around the sky. We just remembered how to fly.”.Miriam turned first, “That’s not possible,” she muttered. “That face. That voice—he wasn’t supposed to survive.”Vincent’s voice was level but laced with edge. “Start the trace.”A swarm of servitor drones hissed as they came alive, tapping into residual satellite packets, pulse echo trails, and low-frequency Ashcore feedback. In less than twenty seconds, a match pinged—red, bold, and undeniable.Miriam’s visor read aloud: “Echo signature confirmed. Asset designation: ‘Desmond' Similar match with operative classed as rogue."Vincent stared. Muerte leaned back slowly, exhaling thro
Empress Ayra
Far beneath the Earth's crust, deeper than any radar could scan and older than any structure still standing, the sanctuary known as The Root pulsed with quiet, biomechanical rhythm. Black vines, warm with unnatural pulse, crawled the walls like veins. Fungal clusters of ashlight clung to hanging roots, as the glew moved like breath — flickering with every heartbeat inside the room.Ayra's new recruits stood in a line — thirteen in total, some barely out of childhood, others with skin hardened as they looked pale. Most of them had scars as it could tell how dangerous they were. A few… self-inflicted due to there survival in various times.Then Ayra entered — gliding, not walking, her body ghost-pale and faintly translucent, trailing threads of dark matter like burned silk in water.She floated above the obsidian floor, her long black hair coiling behind her like unraveling roots.“You’ve made it,” she said quietly, voice steady and cold. “Some of you walked here. Some crawled. A few
Revolution 2
**********AFRICAN OPSRain hit hard against the rooftops as Sentinex tanks rolled through open sewers toward the riverfront.Frederick raised his rifle, looked toward Chuka. “You good?”Chuka grinned, hands sparking. “Let’s fry a few fences.”They breached the gate of the ghetto compound just as Samira burst from the side tunnel, two wounded teenagers in tow. A rail-round clipped the wall near her head.“I need two minutes!” she yelled, setting the boy down.Sentinex stormtroopers closed in fast — armored, glowing with AI target locks.Frederick dropped two with precision shots.Chuka raised both palms. The pipe grid overhead lit with arcs — electricity surged through the water. Three enemies convulsed and fell.Samira dragged the last girl to cover.A fourth trooper raised his rifle — aimed at a fleeing child.Samira stepped into the shot.The blast struck her side — heat seared.She screamed, but stayed standing.“I’m fine!” she gasped. “Just keep going!”**********SOUTH AMERICA O
Revolution 1
In a inner room that was part of Havenborn was a circular and massive hall.The Twelve that were assembled stood within as none spoke at first. They all stared at Earth turned slowly beneath the translucent floor, its blue curve glinting beyond layers of shielded orbital plating.Zahara stood with her arms folded, the ends of her vine-wrapped wrists curling faintly at her sides like snakes too weary to strike. Nearby, Cassiel watched everyone without blinking, his telepathic field brushing softly against surface thoughts. Samira leaned quietly against a railing, her bandaged side glowing slightly through her medical tunic. Ren stood far off, blindfold still tied, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sheathed sword.Kaelen hovered off the floor, legs crossed, head tilted as if listening to something distant. Katya stared at the walls, fingers flexing like she was waiting for something to hit. Chuka chewed the inside of his cheek and rolled a current through his fingers — subtl
Securing All Locations
Debre Zeit, Ethiopia – Inside the a clinic in Ethiopia where an overhead lights flickered with every power surge from the failing generator.Samira Halefom leaned over a boy on a gurney. His chest had been torn open by shrapnel, but her palms glowed with low, golden fire — not burning, but mending. His breathing evened out. The bleeding stopped.Another kid. Another miracle. Another part of her she gave away.The wind outside howled. Nurses darted between rooms, shouting in Amharic.“Sentinex is coming! They’re ten blocks out!”Samira wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist. Her sleeves were rolled, arms blistered and trembling.“Move the burn victims below the stairs,” she said. “No one stays alone.”As the nurses scrambled, a dull thud echoed from the alley behind the building — followed by a hiss of steam.Then a deeper sound like metal on gravel like an hydraulic whir.She turned to the rear door as her breath caught up.A tri-wing craft — matte black had just uncloaked beh
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