Fay's vitals dipped at 06:12.
Not sharply.
Not catastrophically.
Just enough.
Aine noticed instantly.
She was already moving when the med-monitor chimed—quiet, clinical.
Beep… beep…
Aine was at Fay's bedside in three steps, palm resting lightly against the glass of the med-cradle Fay slept on, lashes fluttering faintly, breath shallow but steady.
"What changed," Aine said.
"Neural latency spike," Sera replied, voice stripped of humor.
"Subtle, but consistent. The stabilization you forced bought time, not a resolution."
Aine's jaw tightened.
"How much time."
"…Days," Sera said.
"Weeks if you're aggressive with intervention. Months only if you find what Viremont hid."
Aine stared at her sister.
Not fragile.
Not broken.
Stolen.
"Define 'hid,'" Aine said.
The display shifted, medical schematics overlaying Fay's body, neural pathways highlighted in cold silver.
"Fay's illness isn't a disease," Sera continued.
"It's a recursive degradation loop. Artificially induced. Maintained."
Maintained.
Aine's fingers curled.
"They're still touching her."
"Indirectly," Sera confirmed.
"The trigger code was seeded years ago. Without the counter-key, her system will always collapse back into failure."
Aine leaned closer to Fay, voice low.
"Then we find the key."
The safehouse received its next visitor at 08:03.
This one didn't sneak.
He announced himself.
A courier drone descended to the outer pad, white casing stamped with a neutral seal—no faction markings, no corporate trace. Crimson scanners lit it up from every angle.
"Clean," Marcus reported. "Too clean."
Aine nodded. "Bring it in."
The drone released a slim case and lifted off without waiting for confirmation.
Inside the case—
A data shard.
No encryption.
No protection.
Just arrogance.
Aine slotted it into the terminal.
City A's map bloomed across the screen—layers unfolding rapidly. Sublevels. Hidden corridors. Corporate sanctums and forgotten tunnels.
One section pulsed faintly.
BLACK CHRYSALIS — SUBSTRATE NODE
Aine's eyes narrowed.
"They're inviting me."
"They're correcting a mistake," Sera said.
"They think your objective ended with extraction."
Aine smiled thinly.
"Then they still don't understand me."
A second file opened.
A voice recording played—distorted, calm, rehearsed.
"Princess Crimson.
You've proven capable.
City A prefers equilibrium.
The key you seek exists.
So does a price."
The message ended.
Aine closed the file.
"Send a reply," she said.
Marcus looked up. "What do you want to say?"
Aine thought for half a second.
"Nothing," she replied. "They already said enough."
Ding.
[Trial: Silent Pressure — Update]
Condition Added: Time Compression
Effect: Recovery windows reduced
Pressure Level: Very High
Aine felt it immediately.
The ache in her thigh deepened instead of fading. Fatigue clung like wet clothing. Her breathing took effort where it hadn't before.
"So you're shrinking my margins," Aine said.
"Yes," Sera replied.
"The system is forcing prioritization. You can't do everything."
Aine turned toward the weapons rack, selecting a compact blade and a suppressed pistol.
"I don't need everything."
She paused at the door to Fay's wing, resting her forehead briefly against the reinforced glass.
"I'll be back," she said quietly.
Fay didn't wake.
But her fingers twitched—just once.
Aine straightened.
The plaza from the night before was already clean.
Too clean.
Aine felt the ambush before it sprung—air tightening, footsteps syncing.
She stepped into the open anyway.
The first shot cracked the silence—
Bang!
Aine dropped, rolled, came up firing—
Bang! Bang!
One silhouette crumpled—
Thud!
Two more rushed her, blades flashing—
Clash! Clash!
Steel screamed as Aine parried both, pivoted, and drove her heel back—
Crack!
A knee collapsed. A body fell.
A heavy strike came from her blind side—
Wham!
She staggered, blood blooming along her ribs.
Aine snarled and slammed her shoulder forward—
Boom!
Concrete shattered as the attacker flew backward into a wall.
The last one ran.
Aine didn't chase.
She stood there, breathing hard, rain washing blood into the cracks.
"Host," Sera said quietly,
"pressure maintained. You're bleeding."
Aine wiped her mouth and looked up at the skyline.
"Good," she said. "That means they're scared."
Her phone vibrated once.
A single message.
UNKNOWN: You have three days.
Aine typed her reply as she walked away.
AINE: Then stop wasting them.
The message went unread.
Somewhere beneath City A, something old and dangerous shifted.
And far above it all, the Sign-In System recalculated the clock—
not counting down to Fay's death, but to the moment Aine Crimson would tear the truth out of the world by force.
The safehouse lights dimmed the moment Aine returned.
Not an alarm.
A recognition.
She stripped off her coat as she walked, blood spotting the floor behind her, injuries protesting louder now that the adrenaline had thinned. Crimson medics moved instinctively—but she waved them away with a single look.
"Later."
She didn't slow until she reached Fay's room.
The moment the door sealed, the world narrowed.
Fay was awake.
Not fully.
Not clearly.
Her eyes were open just enough to show awareness—clouded, unfocused, but tracking. Her breathing had changed, shallow but uneven in a way that made Aine's spine tighten.
Aine was at her side instantly.
"Fay."
The name landed like a stone dropped into still water.
Fay's lips parted. No sound came out at first. Then—barely—
"…W…ho?"
The voice was thin. Frayed. Real.
Aine didn't answer right away. She swallowed once, hard, and took Fay's hand—careful, steady, anchoring.
"Your sister," Aine said quietly. "My name is Aine."
Fay's fingers tightened weakly around hers.
Her eyes sharpened for a heartbeat, clarity punching through the haze like a dying star flaring one last time.
"They're… counting," Fay whispered.
Aine stilled.
"Who is," she asked.
Fay's breath hitched.
"The… key," she murmured. "I hear it… when I sleep. When they… check."
Aine's jaw clenched.
Sera's voice dropped to a whisper inside her mind.
"Host… neural resonance spike detected. Fay is interfacing with something residual."
Aine leaned closer. "Fay. Look at me."
Fay did.
Her gaze locked onto Aine's eyes, and for a split second, something recognized something else.
"They didn't put it in a box," Fay said faintly. "They put it in… me."
Silence hit like a gunshot.
Aine's grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to promise presence.
"…Explain," Aine said, every word controlled.
Fay shook her head weakly. "I don't know how. Only that when they stopped… touching the machines… it got louder. Like it was… waiting."
Sera spoke, voice tight with calculation.
"Host. I'm detecting a dormant system-adjacent structure embedded in Fay's neural lattice."
Aine didn't blink.
"You're telling me," she said slowly, "that the counter-key isn't stored somewhere."
"…Correct."
Aine looked down at her sister.
At the girl the world had stolen. Used. Turned into a container.
"The key," Aine said softly, "is alive."
Fay's eyes fluttered.
"Don't… let them take it back," she whispered.
Aine leaned down and pressed her forehead gently against Fay's.
"They won't," she said, voice iron-clad. "I promise you."
Fay's grip loosened as exhaustion reclaimed her. Her eyes slid shut again, vitals stabilizing—barely.
Aine straightened slowly.
The room felt colder.
Ding!
The system interface unfolded uninvited.
[Critical Revelation Logged]
Hidden Condition Updated: Twin Anchor — Active
New Variable Identified: Living Key
Trial Status: Escalated
Sera's voice was quiet now. Serious.
"Host… the system didn't design this."
Aine's eyes burned.
"Neither did I," she replied.
She turned away from the bed, already thinking in vectors and bloodlines and targets.
"They wanted leverage," Aine said calmly.
"They made a mistake."
She reached for her weapon.
"Because now," she continued, eyes cold and certain,
"anyone who wants the key has to come through me."
Outside the safehouse, the night pressed closer.
And somewhere deep beneath City A, something ancient and unfinished woke up—
because its container had been found.
The clock wasn't just ticking anymore.
It was screaming.