The air cracked with energy as the Guardian units lunged forward, their red optics slicing through the shadows like burning coals. Metal limbs thudded against the ground, synchronized like a death march. Kaela's body moved before her brain could catch up—training and instinct fused by fear.
"Run!" she yelled, grabbing Joren by the arm and pulling him to his feet.
Ava threw up a barrier of kinetic energy with her last burst of psionic charge. The shield shimmered like shattered glass held together by willpower. It gave them seconds—no more.
Deren didn't chase. He only watched, his eyes glowing faintly with the same red pulse that powered the machines.
"Let them run," he whispered into the dark. "The storm is just beginning."
—
They barreled through the corridor, boots echoing across steel tiles slick with condensation and streaks of soot. Emergency lights strobed in crimson, bathing the hallway in the hue of panic. Behind them, the Guardians moved—silent, fast, relentless.
"We're boxed in," Ava said, voice ragged. "The override's taken the bulkheads."
"I can get us out," Joren said, stumbling to the nearest terminal. "I'll fry the lockdown from the secondary core."
"We don't have time!" Kaela shouted, her voice sharp like a cracked blade. "They'll be on us in less than—"
The wall behind them exploded in a bloom of fire and debris. A Guardian's clawed appendage lashed through the smoke, tearing the corner of Kaela's jacket. Ava fired a pulse round, the impact sending it reeling—but it recovered almost instantly, turning its attention to her with an eerie, intelligent stillness.
"They're learning," Ava muttered. "Adapting."
Joren screamed as sparks burst from the console and his fingers smoked from the interface. But the doors ahead hissed open.
"Go—go now!" he shouted.
They spilled into the stairwell, spiraling down into the bowels of the facility. Kaela took point, her eyes scanning each level they passed. Her muscles ached. Her mind spun. Deren's words echoed inside her skull.
Blood always remembers.
At Level X, they found it—a rusted maintenance shaft, sealed for decades. Kaela kicked the panel loose. "Help him in," she told Ava. "I'll cover the rear."
"You'll die back here alone."
"I'd rather die than let him win."
For a moment, Ava hesitated. Then, with a nod, she pulled Joren into the shaft.
Kaela turned back to the stairs—just in time to see the lead Guardian descending like a spider, limbs stretching from wall to rail. She aimed. Fired. Again. Again. Its plating sparked but held. It lunged.
Suddenly, the shaft door slammed shut behind her, locking her out.
A voice crackled through her comm.
"Kaela, listen—your neural code is syncing. The NeuroNet... it's reacting to you."
It was a voice she hadn't heard in years.
Her mother's.
And then—everything stopped.
The red lights faded. The world hushed.
And Kaela's pupils began to glow.