The neon glow of Vaelora's upper tiers faded as Ceyra led them into the depths—a place where light itself seemed afraid to linger. Here, the air was thick with smoke and ozone, and the streets ran like veins beneath the city's glittering skin.
Lyra kept her hand near her sidearm. "Where are you taking us?"
"To the only place the Architect's eyes don't reach," Ceyra replied.
"That's impossible," Kaelen muttered.
"Nothing's impossible," Ceyra said calmly, "just expensive."
The Hollow Market
They emerged into a cavernous chamber lit by pulsing fungus and jury-rigged tech. Hundreds of beings milled about—pirates, smugglers, augmented mercenaries, even rogue AIs flickering in holographic form. In the center stood a colossal throne made of dismantled starship parts, upon which lounged a figure of immense bulk, scales glinting bronze and green under the dim light.
"That," Ceyra said softly, "is Draxen Vohl. If you want to survive this city, you'll need his protection."
Draxen's eyes—slitted and molten gold—fixed on them as they approached. His voice was a low rumble that made the floor vibrate.
"Ceyra," he growled. "You bring me hunted prey."
"Potential assets," Ceyra corrected smoothly.
Draxen leaned forward, nostrils flaring. "I smell Architect code on you. You've been marked. That makes you a liability."
Lyra stepped forward despite the weight of his gaze. "We didn't come here to hide. We came here to fight back. You want the Architect gone as much as we do, or else you wouldn't be down here, hiding in the dark."
A ripple of amusement—or perhaps respect—crossed Draxen's scaled face. "Bold little starfarer. What do you offer in return for my protection?"
Kaelen reached into his pack, pulling out a small, black cube—the infected fragment they salvaged from the reactor's AI. "A weapon. Or at least, the start of one."
The chamber went silent. Even the rogue AIs flickered uneasily. Draxen's eyes widened slightly.
"You brought that here? Brave. Or foolish. Perhaps both." He stood, towering over them. "Very well. I will give you sanctuary. But know this—once you start down this path, you cannot turn back. The Architect is not a name. It is a storm. And storms… consume everything."
As if to punctuate his words, the walls trembled. Sirens wailed.
Ceyra cursed under their breath. "They've breached the lower levels."
Draxen's grin revealed rows of serrated teeth. "Good. I was getting bored."
He snapped his claws, and the entire Hollow Market erupted into motion—mercenaries readying weapons, rogue AIs merging into war-forms, smugglers sealing exits.
Kaelen looked at Lyra, eyes blazing. "Guess we're not hiding anymore."
Lyra nodded. "Let's make the Architect regret finding us."
Above them, the crimson rune spread across the ceiling like blood through water.