The facility answered Zariah's resolve with a sound like ancient stone drawing breath.
Deep beneath their feet, mechanisms older than Adrian's empire groaned awake. The walls vibrated not violently, not yet but with the steady pressure of something that had waited a long time to be called upon. Lights flared along carved channels in the stone, illuminating symbols that weren't digital but etched, deliberate, human.
Adrian didn't let go of Zariah's hand.
Not when the message still burned in the air.
Not when the hum inside her surged, sharper now, reactive no longer curious, but alert.
"Battlefield," he repeated quietly, testing the word like a blade's edge. "You're sure?"
Zariah nodded once. Her chest still ached, the echo of that cold signal scraping against her senses, but beneath the fear was something steadier. Choice. Agency. She had spent too long being hunted, studied, cornered. If the world insisted on seeing her now, then she would decide how.
"They expect me to run," she said. "Or to submit. That's how systems like them work. They don't account for refusal."
Kellan moved fast, fingers flying across a console that looked half-modern, half-ritualistic. "Ancient or not, this place wasn't designed to host a siege. If they push hard enough "
"They won't," Zariah interrupted softly.
Both men turned to her.
She closed her eyes, focusing inward. The hum responded, unfurling like a map. Not lines and coordinates but pressure points. Tendrils of attention reaching outward, probing, knocking. The watchers weren't here physically. Not yet. They were observing from layers away, from systems embedded in systems.
"They don't understand proximity," she continued. "They're used to distance. Control without touch. This place confuses them."
Adrian studied her face, the subtle changes he was still learning to read. "You can feel them."
"Yes." Her voice was steady now. "And they can feel me feeling them."
The message in the air flickered, the symbols rearranging themselves with unnerving smoothness.
YOU ARE AN ANOMALY.
AN UNAUTHORIZED CONVERGENCE.
Zariah lifted her chin. "Funny," she murmured. "That's what people call things they're afraid of."
Adrian's mouth curved into a humorless smile. "You're provoking them."
"I'm negotiating," she corrected.
The hum spiked anger, sharp and cold. The facility lights dimmed, then surged brighter, as if bracing itself.
YOU WERE NOT MEANT TO EMERGE.
YOU WERE A CONTINGENCY.
Her stomach twisted. The words struck deeper than she expected, dredging up memories she'd buried being used, discarded, measured only by utility.
Adrian felt it. He shifted closer, his presence solid and grounding. "You don't get to define her."
The symbols paused.
Then.....
YOU ARE ATTACHED TO HER, they replied.
THIS IS A LIABILITY.
Zariah felt Adrian tense, the slightest change in his breathing. Before he could respond, she squeezed his hand once a silent message.
I've got this.
She stepped forward, just enough to put herself half a pace ahead of him.
"Yes," she said calmly. "I am attached. That's not a flaw. It's a boundary."
The hum swelled, warmer now, resonating through the stone. For a heartbeat, she sensed hesitation. Not doubt calculation.
Kellan glanced between them, unease etched deep into his features. "Zariah… be careful. If they're assessing leverage "
"I know," she said. "That's why I'm not hiding it."
The message shifted again, the symbols accelerating, overlapping.
YOU CANNOT SUSTAIN THIS STATE.
YOUR BIOLOGICAL LIMITS WILL FAIL.
Pain lanced through her skull, sudden and fierce. Zariah gasped, staggering but Adrian caught her instantly, arms wrapping around her as if anchoring her to the ground itself.
"Enough," he growled. "You want to threaten someone? Try me."
The hum roared in response not in defiance, but in warning. Zariah clutched his jacket, breathing through the pain. Images flooded her mind unbidden: cascading failures, neurological overload, bodies that couldn't handle what she now carried.
They weren't lying.
But they weren't telling the whole truth either.
"They're right about one thing," she said hoarsely. "I can't sustain this forever. Not like this."
Adrian's eyes searched hers. "Then we end it. We cut them off."
She shook her head. "If I sever completely, the backlash will ripple outward. Innocent systems. Innocent people. They'll suffer."
Kellan swore under his breath. "There's always a cost."
"Yes," Zariah agreed quietly. "But I get to choose where it lands."
She straightened slowly, ignoring the lingering ache. The hum steadied, responding to her resolve.
"You called me an anomaly," she said to the watchers. "You're wrong. I'm an evolution you didn't anticipate."
Silence followed. Heavy. Measuring.
Then....
PROVE IT.
The facility shuddered violently.
Alarms real ones this time cut through the air as dormant defenses snapped fully awake. Sections of the stone walls slid apart, revealing chambers lined with unfamiliar devices hybrid tech that pulsed with restrained power.
Kellan's face drained of color. "That's not a message. That's a challenge."
Zariah's breath caught as the hum surged, not inward this time, but outward expanding, interfacing. She felt resistance immediately. Cold, structured, relentless.
"They're testing my limits," she said. "Pushing load. Seeing how much I can carry before I break."
Adrian's jaw clenched. "And if you fail?"
She met his gaze. "Then they'll take what's left."
The ground trembled again as energy arced between the exposed chambers, forming a lattice that wrapped around the central hall. The air crackled, pressure building until it felt hard to breathe.
Zariah cried out as the strain intensified, the hum fracturing into discordant notes. She dropped to one knee, hands pressed to the floor.
Adrian was beside her instantly. "Zariah. Look at me."
She did. His eyes were fierce, unwavering. "You're not alone in this."
She laughed weakly. "You can't fight a system, Adrian."
"No," he agreed. "But I can fight for you."
The words grounded her, slicing through the noise. The hum shifted, responding not amplifying, but aligning. For the first time, she felt it integrate rather than overwhelm.
She understood then.
"They're expecting resistance," she whispered. "Force. Defiance."
Adrian nodded. "And you're giving them "
"Redirection."
She placed her palm flat against the stone floor. The hum flowed through her, down her arm, into the ancient systems beneath. Instead of pushing back, she opened pathways channels that invited the pressure to disperse, to circulate rather than concentrate.
The lattice flickered.
The watchers' presence wavered.
THIS IS INEFFICIENT, they responded, sharper now.
YOU WILL DISSOLVE.
"Maybe," Zariah said softly. "But not today."
The facility exhaled.
Energy bled away from the lattice, redirected into deep, dormant reservoirs that drank it greedily. The oppressive pressure eased, leaving behind stunned silence.
Zariah sagged forward, breath coming in ragged gasps. Adrian caught her, holding her upright as if she weighed nothing.
For a moment, there was nothing but the echo of her heartbeat and the fading hum.
Then....
A new signal brushed her awareness.
Different.
Focused.
Familiar.
Her eyes widened.
"Adrian," she whispered. "Viktor."
His name alone darkened the air.
"He's here?" Adrian demanded.
"Not physically," she said. "But he's watching. He's… smiling."
The message in the air flickered violently, symbols glitching, fragmenting.
THE ARCHITECTS HAVE NOT FINISHED.
NEITHER HAS HE.
Zariah felt it then the trap within the challenge. The watchers weren't just testing her. They were drawing something out.
Someone.
Her chest tightened as a new realization settled like ice.
"They weren't knocking for me," she said slowly. "They were knocking through me."
Adrian's grip tightened. "Meaning?"
Her voice barely carried. "Viktor has been hiding behind their systems. Using them as cover."
The hum surged again this time not cold, not curious, but furious.
Somewhere beyond the facility, beyond the reach of walls and stone, something old and patient shifted its attention.
And Viktor Volkov stepped closer to the edge of the world ready to reclaim what he believed was still his.