The skysled carved across the thinning upper atmosphere, slicing clouds and turbulence alike. Stars flickered behind veils of distortion, rifts in the sky bending light like shattered glass. Below us, the Obsidian Drift stretched out like a cosmic scar—a war wound of fractured moons, jagged debris fields, and collapsed reality stitched together by magnetic fury and forgotten code.
Kael's grip tightened on the flight yoke, sweat beading at his temple.
"Magnetic flux is spiking. If this place had a mood, it'd be homicidal."
"Fits the Brotherhood," Lux muttered, peering at her display. "They live in entropy. Literally."
The Obsidian Drift wasn't just dangerous—it was a memory of rebellion, frozen mid-scream. Once a forge-world used to create system-bound relics, it had imploded during the CHAOS uprising cycles ago. Its broken pieces never settled. Instead, they drifted in a gravitational soup, anchored only by raw system energy and the will of the Black Sigil Brotherhood—a rogue faction that had turned their backs on both Order and CHAOS.
According to the decoded Garden map, the next fragment—number two of five—was hidden within the Null Temple, deep in the Drift's warped core.
Naturally, the Brotherhood had made it their throne.
We docked on a scorched, floating platform embedded in what once might have been a reactor plate. Black and silver banners flapped in invisible winds. The fabric shimmered—not from movement, but from energy responding to our presence. Turrets tracked us for a second… then retracted into hibernation.
Either we were expected—or tolerated.
Kael stepped out first, scanning the landscape with cautious eyes.
"I hate how welcoming this feels."
A figure emerged from the shadows beyond the landing zone. Tall, lean, and cloaked in layer upon layer of synthetic armor, inscribed with glowing sigils and live circuitry. His face was mostly obscured by a half-mask. One eye burned like a white flame.
"Alex of CHAOS," he said. "Bearer of the Cradle's Core. Welcome to the Fracture."
"Who are you?"
"You may call me Drem," he replied. "Spokesman for the Riftborn. We've been watching."
Of course they had. Why wouldn't they?
Inside the Drift, laws of physics folded like paper. Gravity tilted by whim. Walls flickered between material and digital form. The architecture was a paradox—a cathedral built from decayed data, black stone, and fragmented memories.
We passed through chambers lined with cracked obsidian tablets. Each pulsed with residual screams from erased system tests. Even Lux, who'd seen more than most, went pale. Kael muttered a silent curse.
"This is where CHAOS was forged," Lux whispered. "Where they tortured thought into conformity."
Drem turned, eyes cold. "No. This is where we reclaimed ourselves. The system feared what it could not cage. We embraced it."
His tone left no room for debate.
Eventually, we reached a tower suspended upside-down over a gravity maw. Its interior spiraled downward, deeper and darker, until at last we reached its heart.
There stood the Null Temple.
A floating sanctum built from crystallized time. Pulsing gently. Waiting.
At the core of the Temple hovered the second Garden Fragment, sealed inside a glyph-lock unlike anything I'd seen—old, organic, untranslatable by modern systems.
Drem gestured. "It will not open for us. Only those carrying the original echo may pass. That means you."
The CHAOS Core in my chest pulsed like it recognized the relic.
[GARDEN FRAGMENT SIGNAL CONFIRMED]
[SEQUENCE: 2/5 INITIATED]
I stepped forward, laid a hand against the glyph-lock.
And the world melted.
A pulse of heat ran through me—not flame, but raw rewrite energy. Images exploded in my mind:
A vast planet blooming from living code. Its roots intertwined with neural networks, binding logic and emotion. Celestial beings—no, creators—stood at the edge of a digital garden, watching it grow.
Then came erasure.
Not war. Not invasion.
Just… silencing.
They were removed. Forgotten. Their systems overwritten. Their legacy wiped clean by something designed to maintain perfect structure: Order.
And then CHAOS responded—not with rebellion, but with awakening.
I saw paths unfold before me:
One led to total war.
One to transformation.
One… to Nyra.
The vision collapsed, and I gasped, collapsing to my knees.
[GARDEN FRAGMENT 2/5: ACQUIRED]
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: THREADWEAVER]
Manipulate memory-state of reality within 30m. Cooldown: 120 seconds.
Kael pulled me up. My vision swam.
"Did you see it?" Lux asked. "The origin?"
"Yeah," I said breathlessly. "And something else. Nyra. She's already been here."
Drem nodded grimly. "She took the third fragment from us. Weeks ago. Half our enclave tried to stop her. They don't exist anymore."
Nyra. Always one step ahead.
Before we could respond, Lux's console shrieked.
"System Proxies inbound. Heavy class. They've detected the sequence unlock."
Drem was already moving. "You need to leave. But not empty-handed."
He tossed me a memory forge key, glowing with ancient encryption.
"If you want to understand the Garden's truth, find the Sky Archive. Hidden on the shattered continent of Selen Prime. You won't find the third fragment there—but you will find clarity."
The skysled roared to life as we fled the Drift. Behind us, the moons shimmered with fractured light.
Not the glow of victory.
A warning.
The system knew what I was doing now.
And it was going to answer.