The pressure inside the transport glider felt like a weight pressing down on everything, thick as the tension that nobody wanted to talk about. Micah Satya just sat there, listening to the low hum of the Myrvane vessel, feeling that familiar ache settle deep in his bones.
They were heading back to Vael'Tor—the Myrvane capital—and honestly, the whole mess in that flooded vault already felt like a lifetime ago. All that chaos, the metal and water and pure terror swirling together.
Sure, they'd made it out alive, but it sure didn't feel like they'd won anything. That Omniraith unit—Omnicide—had grabbed the prototype blueprints and just vanished into the deep.
And the worst part? That message about a traitor in their own ranks kept playing on repeat in his head.
Lio Venn was staring out the viewport next to him, his face washed pale by the soft glow coming off the coral walls outside.
All that nervous energy he usually had was just... gone. Replaced by something grim and still. Even Kaelin Vorr had gone quiet across the small cabin, arms crossed, staring at absolutely nothing.
Marella Seaborn, their Myrvane Captain, guided the craft with those careful, precise movements of hers. Behind her visor, with water still dripping from her exo-armor, her expression looked like it was carved from stone.
The glider bumped against a shimmering coral port with a soft clang. When the airlock hissed open, Vael'Tor's cool, filtered air rushed in.
Stepping out felt weird after all that chaos—like emerging from a nightmare into something almost too calm.
The city pulsed around them, all those organic structures weaving together with technology in ways that still made Lio's eyes go wide but had Kaelin looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.
For Micah, though, all that efficiency just felt heavy. It reminded him too much of home, of what they might be giving up just to survive.
The fallout was already waiting for them. Myrvane officers in their dark, hydrostatic armor moved with that measured precision they were known for, faces set in hard lines.
No shouting, no chaos—just this cold, formal tension that somehow felt worse than screaming would have.
Marella led them straight to a briefing chamber, not the big council hall but some smaller, bare room filled with shimmering data screens.
The air felt thick with all the things nobody was saying out loud.
"They knew we were coming," Marella said, her voice carrying that low, resonant quality that her suit's filters gave it. "They waited for us.
Took exactly what they wanted." Her eyes moved from Micah to Lio to Kaelin, and he could feel the weight of that look. The Myrvane didn't do subtlety—they valued straight talk and honesty.
She didn't need to actually say the word 'traitor.' It was hanging there between them like a blade. Micah felt his jaw clench.
How was he supposed to defend his people, his home, when someone in Elora had been feeding information straight to the enemy?
"We didn't know," Micah said, keeping his voice level even though everything inside him was churning. He tried to sound practical—the way Ashari were supposed to—but also honest, because that's what the Myrvane respected.
"Look, we picked up this garbled signal at the Thornkin border. Thought it was just interference. So we followed another signal, hoping to figure out what was going on, hoping we could actually help someone.
That's when we found the Hollow, that thing, and learned the truth about what I am and what the Core Nexus is really planning.
Yeah, we kept that information to ourselves, but only because we were scared of what our own Command might do with it.
But we came here, Captain. We brought you the Thornkin's warning, and we stood with you against the Omniraith in that vault. We didn't bring them here on purpose."
Lio jumped in, talking fast the way he always did when he was rattled. "That Ashari code the Omniraith intercepted... it came from somewhere near Elora's outer edge.
From a node that's not even part of the main network. It wasn't Commander level clearance. It was... someone on the inside. Someone working in the shadows."
Kaelin just grunted, arms still crossed tight. "Doesn't matter who right now," he said, cutting straight to the point like always. "What matters is they got what they came for. And now they know about... this."
He nodded toward Micah, and that word 'Steelborn' still felt like something dangerous hanging in the air. Kaelin didn't have time for blame games—he wanted to know what they were going to do about it.
Marella went quiet for a while, processing everything they'd said. The Myrvane didn't rush to judgment, but they felt losses deeply.
That outpost—Sentinel Pod 3—was still a raw wound. "The past cannot be navigated," she finally said, using one of those phrases of theirs. "Only the currents ahead can be.
We must trust what we see in your actions now. And get ready for what's coming."
She moved to a console and brought up a holographic display. "The Omniraith made off with blueprints for the ancient prototypes," she explained.
"Blueprints that can... rewrite systems. They're going to use them to build a new kind of army. Not just drones this time.
Something twisted, something merged together." It was exactly what Micah had been afraid of since seeing that bridge node and figuring out what the Core Nexus was really trying to do.
Micah found himself drifting away from the others, pulled toward a quiet corner where the bioluminescent coral pulsed with this soft, inward glow.
All the chaos and finger-pointing from the last few hours seemed to fade away, replaced by something deeper and more unsettling. That word 'Steelborn' felt like it was burned into him now. Not some cool title, but more like a scar.
He slumped down, pressing his head against the cool, living wall. A memory hit him out of nowhere—he was just a kid, maybe seventeen, on his first real scouting run through those dead, metal-twisted wastelands near Gamma-Prime.
He could still remember how quiet it was out there, nothing but wind cutting through all that rusted junk.
And he remembered finding something weird—this chunk of glowing metal half-buried in the dirt, pulsing real faint-like.
Back then, he'd figured it was just scrap, maybe busted sensor parts. But now that memory came back sharp and cold.
There'd been a sound, too. Not exactly a voice he could make out, but more like a feeling, this subtle tremor that crawled through his head, a whisper just out of reach.
It was the same damn feeling, the same presence he'd run into down in that Hollow beneath the Thornkin Forest. That signal coming from deep inside that machine thing.
"Maybe I've been different this whole time," he whispered to the glowing wall, the words barely making it past his lips. That scar across his chest felt like it was pulsing under his suit.
"And maybe that's exactly why they're after me." He wasn't just some scout, wasn't just another soldier. He was this 'Fusion anomaly' thing.
A few minutes later, Lio found him there. He settled down nearby without saying anything at first, just being there.
That bond they'd built through all the danger and secrets they'd shared—it was one of the few good things left in this messed-up world.
Lio was crazy smart, but he always second-guessed himself, always felt crushed under all those Ashari expectations.
Meanwhile, Micah was over here terrified he might turn into the very thing he was supposed to be fighting.
"Micah?" Lio's voice was barely above a whisper. He looked genuinely rattled by everything—the ambush, finding out there really was a traitor, all of it.
Micah kept staring at the wall, still caught up in that creepy memory. "That voice... from the Hollow," he said quietly. "And whatever signal led them straight to us. It's all tied together. To me."
Lio nodded. "Your gear picked it up first, back in the forest. That prototype thing reacted to you specifically. And that Omniraith message—they called you out by name." He paused, like the words tasted bitter. "'Steelborn anomaly.'"
Micah finally looked at him, and all those fears he'd been carrying—the constant worry about how much the Ashari relied on tech, the sick dread that he might become just like the Omniraith—it all felt crushing right then.
He used their technology to stay alive, to fight back. But was this whole 'Steelborn' thing just natural evolution, or some kind of corruption he needed to fight off?
Lio must have seen the question written all over his face, because he gave him this small, reassuring smile. "You bleed. You second-guess yourself. You put people first," Lio said, his voice rock-steady, cutting right through all that fear.
"That's more human than anyone sitting safe behind some command desk." It reminded Micah what they were really fighting for—not just to survive, but to stay human while doing it.
Before Micah could really let that sink in, Marella walked into their little corner, back to business mode. Another Myrvane was with her, helping with something big and dark.
"We can't sit around waiting for the Omniraith to finish building their new army," Marella said straight out.
"Not with those blueprints they stole. We've got a possible location for their first major Forge setup, based on energy readings and resource tracking."
She pointed at part of the holographic display, showing this dark, jagged area way down in the deep ocean—the Twilight Rifts. "It's dangerous as hell, unstable and crawling with defenses."
"So we go there," Kaelin said from behind them, stepping into the alcove. Action—that was always Kaelin's solution to everything.
Marella nodded. "We need a small, fast strike team. Get in, mess things up, get out. Before they can turn that ancient power into new weapons." She gestured toward the big, dark thing the other Myrvane was putting together nearby.
It was some kind of exo-armor, obviously built for the deepest, nastiest combat zones—heavier and sleeker than the standard Myrvane suits, more dangerous-looking. It had this dark, metallic gleam with these pulsing bioluminescent lines running through it.
"This is the Sorrowhelm Aegis," Marella said, running her hand along the sleek surface. "Combat suit prototype.
Built to handle crushing depths and pack some serious sonic punch." She lifted the helmet—all dark angles and razor-sharp edges—and slipped it over her head.
Every movement screamed purpose, power. This wasn't just gear she was putting on. This was her answer to everything they'd taken from her, everything that was coming for them.
Micah's eyes drifted between the suit and the map spread across the table, those red marks showing where the Twilight Rifts cut through the ocean floor. That ambush in the vault? Just the opening move.
The Omniraith had laid their cards on the table—they knew about the old tech, knew what he really was, and someone on the inside was feeding them everything they needed. This wasn't just another mission anymore.
This was personal. A race where coming in second meant everyone died.
Marella clicked the last piece of armor into place, ready to dive into whatever hell waited for them down there.
That's when Micah felt it again—that strange tremor running through his bones. Not the city's endless mechanical heartbeat, but something else. The signal.
That presence from the Hollow, reaching out across impossible distances. Different this time, though. Not trying to crush him like before. Just... watching. Waiting. Like it had been there forever.
Something stirred in the back of his mind, warm and alien and somehow familiar. Not information downloading or code executing—just knowledge, pure and simple, settling into place like puzzle pieces he'd been missing his whole life.
"You were not made. You were chosen."
The words hit him like a physical blow. His breath stuck in his throat, heart hammering against his ribs. Made—like those Omniraith killing machines, like all their twisted hybrid tech? No. Chosen. But by what? The thing in the Hollow? Something even older, something that had been sleeping in the deep places since before humans ever touched the ocean?
The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it felt like coming home.
They'd come hunting for the past, for blueprints and ancient secrets. But when they'd forced his hand, made him show them what Steelborn really meant, they'd woken something up. The war had just shifted into territory none of them understood.
It wasn't about weapons or territory or ideology anymore. It was about him. About what he was becoming. And it was going to take them all down into the darkest depths where even light forgot to follow.