The air in the command chamber grew colder with the creeping staleness of certainty, Hadeon had seen sieges before, rebellions, and full collapses of faith and loyalty, but never from inside the epicenter, never while still holding the reins of a war beast that refused to move.
He crossed the room, boots ringing sharp on polished stone, and pressed his palm to the center console again, this time forcing his ether signature through the lock, commanding as if sheer will could patch together a system already rotting from within.
For a moment, something responded.
The screen pulsed.
Data fluttered to life.
Maps, ether spikes, the fragment of a comm line, then a sudden jolt of resistance, as if the system inhaled sharply against his touch and rejected him.
The console flickered once, twice, then shut down in full, the entire wall of data vanishing into black.
