The night air was heavy, thick with the scent of rain and rust.
Ava walked ahead, the device's dim pulse guiding them through the valley. Each flicker felt like a heartbeat buried under miles of soil.
They reached the edge of an old ravine before dawn. The ground was fractured, lined with metal debris and the remains of collapsed tunnels. A faded warning sign leaned against the rocks:
HAVEN RESTRICTED ZONE – SECTOR NINE ACCESS SEALED
Rhea tightened her grip on her weapon. "Sealed my ass. If the signal's coming from here, it's still alive."
Arlo studied the terrain. "There's an entrance somewhere. Haven always left a way back in."
Ava knelt by a half-buried hatch, tracing the Haven insignia beneath the dirt. The device in her hand pulsed faster. "Found it."
Mara moved beside her, voice low. "Once we go in, there's no radio contact. Drones will jam our signal. We move quiet, stay close."
The hatch creaked open with a metallic groan. Cold air rose from below—sterile, ancient, and wrong.
Their flashlights cut through the dark. The walls were metal, the floor damp and littered with old papers. Red stains streaked the corners.
Lila's voice was a whisper. "It's like it's been waiting."
"Or watching," Arlo muttered.
The deeper they went, the more the tunnels changed. The metal walls gave way to organic growth—fleshy vines, pulsing faintly like veins. Machines fused with bone-like structures. The hum of power returned, low and rhythmic.
Ava's pulse matched it.
She froze at a fork in the corridor. "Left leads to containment," she said softly, not knowing how she knew.
Mara frowned. "You've been here before?"
Ava's voice was distant. "No. But I remember it."
They entered a vast control hall half-swallowed by decay. Terminals blinked weakly, some still alive after decades. A cracked nameplate glimmered faintly under their lights:
PROJECT HAVEN – CONTROL CORE
Rhea moved ahead, scanning the room. "Looks abandoned."
Arlo pointed to the central console. "Something's still running."
Ava approached. The screen flickered to life, static breaking into fractured text:
WELCOME BACK, SUBJECT A.C.
ACCESS: REINSTATED.
MOTHER PROTOCOL — ACTIVE.
Her breath hitched. "Mother Protocol…"
Rhea's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is that?"
A soft chime echoed through the chamber. From the far end, a holographic projection flickered—grainy, ghostlike.
Dr. Elara Cross appeared, her voice calm, almost tender.
"If you're seeing this, the breach failed. Haven survived through you."
Ava's knees weakened. "Mom…"
Elara's hologram turned, eyes meeting hers through the distortion.
"Aveline, you are the key. Sector Nine was built for you—to contain what you carry."
Static swallowed the image.
Then the alarms returned.
Lights flared red. A deep mechanical rumble rolled through the tunnels. Something massive was awakening beneath them.
Mara shouted, "Everyone move!"
Ava stood frozen, her mother's voice echoing in her mind.
You are the key.
They ran through collapsing corridors, the hum below turning into a roar. The ground split open, revealing glimpses of black machinery pulsing like a living heart.
Arlo pulled Ava forward. "Don't stop!"
But she looked back once—and saw the truth.
The "machines" weren't just metal. They were alive.
Sector Nine wasn't a ruin.
It was sleeping.
And now, it was awake.