Thalyn woke with a jolt, breath catching in her throat. The chamber lay around her, quiet as a grave, the low hum of the ancient machines like whispers.
She closed her eyes, but the images clawed back, smoke on her tongue, the sharp scream of metal, the cold bite of betrayal, the fire searing through her legs.
Nira's face furious in the dark, her voice cutting through the chaos, dragging Thalyn from the wreckage as the world spun in agony. The dream faded, but the pain in her heart and legs remained.
She sat up, breath ragged, ran a trembling hand over her face. The others lay in sleep, shadows against the vastness of the old stone.
Jaxon sat like a sentinel, eyes like cold steel, one hand resting easy on the grip of his blade, the other working slow circles on the metal of his cybernetic arm.
Thalyn rose, pacing the cold floor. Her fingers drifted across the ancient consoles, as if she might wake something long dead. She felt Jaxon watching her.
“What’s eatin’ at you, Thalyn?” His voice was rough, a low rumble, but there was softness beneath, a fracture in the stone.
She turned, met his gaze. "Nira," she said. "We left her down there. Under the rubble. I need to find her. I want to bury her."
Jaxon’s brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing. “And if you can’t?”
“I have to try. I’ll be careful,” she said, steady now.
He nodded slowly, eyes studying her. “I don’t like it,” he said. “But I get it.”
She geared up. Each motion sure, efficient. She pulled the breather mask tight, felt the cool touch against her skin, the filters purring in her ears.
At the reinforced door, her hand met cold metal. It hissed open, groaning loud in the stillness.
In the passage, the air was clean, but she kept the mask on. It was dark, walls lined with glass panels etched in alien glyphs that seemed to writhe and shift when she wasn't looking.
Beyond, the Nether stretched out like a dark ocean, eerie in twilight. Shadows moved. Trees twisted upward like claws. Their roots tangled in the dreadful fog.
At the end of the passage, she found a hall. The air here was thick with a strange energy that prickled her skin. She tried the doors, one after another. All refused her except the last. It opened to a small, dark chamber, cold light leaking from the walls.
She entered, eyes adjusting to the gloom. At its center stood a throne, smaller than the other, wrapped in cables like roots. A crown rested before it.
Two droids stood in shadow, shapes cut from the same mold as the sentinel, but leaner, less worn. She watched them. They didn’t move.
With careful steps, she approached the throne. As her hand reached toward the crown, one droid stepped forward.
“At your command, mistress.”
She flinched, a jolt in her chest. “Why aren’t you hostile?” she asked, voice sharp. “The guardian attacked us.”
The droid tilted its head. “Apologies, mistress. The… guardian did not recognize you among the others.”
“Why am I different?”
“You bear the mark.”
“What mark?”
“The mark we must obey.” It offered nothing more.
She looked toward the door to where they had fought the guardian. “Can I access that chamber?”
“It is sealed, mistress. Inaccessible.”
She turned back to the throne. Her hand hovered over the crown.
The droid raised a hand. “It would be wise to return to central command and complete the sequence before attempting this station.”
A pause. “One more request, before you proceed.”
“Yes?”
“The artifact you retrieved from the cave. Bring it to me. You are not yet ready to wield it.”
She frowned. “What is it?”
The droid’s eyes flickered. “You’ll understand when you are ready.”
She exhaled, nodded once. “I’ll bring it.”
The droid inclined its head, not mechanical, more ritual, like a monk in metal skin.
She stepped back and left the chamber.
The others stirred when she returned, eyes tracking her.
“What did you find?” Jaxon asked.
She pulled off her mask, told them about the droid, the mark, the sealed chamber.
Korr’s expression shifted. Fingers twitching, already rearranging the puzzle in his head.
“Why you?” Elara asked, violet eyes searching Thalyn’s face. “Why are you chosen?”
Thalyn shrugged. The question hung in the air like smoke. Then her gaze dropped to the sphere, still nestled in the console beside Korr.
“They asked for this,” she said.
Korr’s head snapped up. “Who did?”
“The droid said it’s dangerous. Too advanced.”
“Too advanced?” His voice cracked slightly. “That’s exactly why we keep it. You don’t hand off a relic to the first glorified caretaker that mumbles in glyphs.”
“You don’t know if it’s safe.”
Korr stood, hands half-raised like he might block her path. “At least let me run a scan. Just for a little while.”
“No.” She slipped the sphere into her pouch. “If this thing fires the wrong way, it’s not just your paranoia that gets fried.”
He glared, but the fight drained from his shoulders. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Probably,” she said, brushing past. “But we’ve only got time for one.”
She crossed to the entry. The chamber door opened with a sigh, and the droid stood just behind it, waiting in the gloom like it had had always been there.
She held out the sphere.
Its hand unfolded like blooming metal petals. The sphere hovered above its palm, then sank into a socket with a hiss, as if inhaled.
Glyphs crawled up its arm like quicksilver. It bowed and vanished into the passage.
She turned back. The throne loomed, quiet and waiting. She felt its cold embrace as she sat, her fingers brushing the crown. She set it on her head, and the chamber began to fade.
A whisper teased the edge of her mind: “Want your old legs back? Properly augmented?”
And then she was gone, slipping into another life, the chill of a cell seeping into her bones.
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