The Rust-Sea didn't fade away; it stopped abruptly against a wall of emerald.
From the cockpit of the White Raven, the Jungle Belt looked less like a forest and more like a tsunami of vegetation frozen in mid-crash. Trees the size of skyscrapers wrestled for sunlight, their canopies woven together into a solid, impenetrable ceiling. Vines as thick as cables hung in tangled curtains, and a mist of golden spores drifted above it all like smog.
"Humidity is rising," Skid called out, tapping a condensation-fogged gauge. "Cabin pressure is holding, but the external sensors are going haywire. There's too much life down there. The bio-readings are jamming the radar."
"It's the Verdant Walker," Julian said, standing behind Isolde's pilot chair. He was adjusting the straps of his new Resonance Gauntlet. "The Titan generates a growth field. Everything within a hundred miles is hyper-evolved."
Isolde banked the ship, grimacing. "I prefer ice. Ice is honest. This... this looks like it wants to eat us."
"It probably does," Lyra said, cleaning the lens of her scope. "Look at the canopy. Those aren't leaves."
She magnified the image on the screen.
The "leaves" on the upper canopy were serrated, metallic-green plates that turned to follow the sun. And hovering around them were Hornet-Drones—biological insects the size of hawks, with stingers that dripped corrosive acid.
"Take us down," Julian commanded. "Below the canopy. If we fly over it, the Empire's aerial patrols will spot us."
"Below?" Isolde looked at him like he was crazy. "Into that tangle? I'll be flying blind."
"You're the best pilot in the Drift," Julian challenged. "Prove it."
Isolde smirked, shifting gears. "Hold onto your breakfast."
The Descent
The White Raven dove.
They punched through the upper canopy layer. Branches whipped against the hull with the sound of cracking bones. The light vanished, replaced by a humid, twilight gloom.
They were in the Undercity of Trees.
Here, the air was thick and smelled of wet earth, rotting fruit, and ozone. Massive tree trunks formed pillars for a natural cathedral, and the "ground" was a mile below, lost in darkness.
Isolde weaved the ship between the trunks, dodging hanging vines that seemed to reach out for the thrusters.
"There!" Skid shouted, pointing to the west. "Thermal spike!"
Through the dense foliage, they saw an orange glow.
It wasn't the sun. It was fire.
They flew closer, hovering behind a massive tree trunk.
Below them, a swath of the jungle had been erased. A blackened, smoking scar cut through the green, miles wide. The trees were reduced to charcoal skeletons. The ground was glassed ash.
And marching through the ash was the Incinerator Corps.
They were terrifying figures clad in heavy, fireproof suits of red lead. They carried twin tanks on their backs and flamethrowers that spewed streams of liquid, blue-hot napalm.
Leading them were the Pyro-Walkers—bipedal mechs with heat-cannons for arms, burning everything in their path.
"They're burning a road," Lyra whispered, horrified. "They're not searching. They're paving a highway to the Titan."
"And look what's following them," Julian pointed.
Behind the wall of fire, massive tanker trucks trudged through the ash. They weren't carrying fuel. They were marked with the bio-hazard symbol and the words: PROJECT CHIMERA.
"They're spraying something on the ash," Skid squinted. "Defoliant?"
"No," Julian watched the trucks spray a grey sludge onto the burnt ground. "It's concrete. Rapid-set polymer. They're paving over the jungle as fast as they burn it. They're sterilizing the world."
"We have to stop them," Isolde growled, reaching for the weapons panel.
"Not from here," Julian stopped her. "If you fire, the Pyro-Walkers will target the ship. We'll burn in seconds. We need to get ahead of them. Find the Titan before the fire does."
"I'm setting us down," Isolde said, spinning the ship around. "There's a clearing two clicks east. It looks solid."
The Jungle Floor
The White Raven settled onto a patch of mossy ground with a soft squelch. The engines whined down, and the new cooling fans kicked into overdrive to combat the stifling heat.
The ramp lowered.
The heat hit them like a physical weight. It was wet, heavy, and loud. The jungle screamed with the sound of millions of insects.
Julian stepped out first, his gauntlet humming faintly. Lyra followed, sweating instantly in her gear.
"Stay close to the ship," Isolde ordered, staying on the ramp with a heavy rifle. "Skid, keep the engines running hot. We might need to leave in a hurry."
Julian walked to the edge of the clearing. He knelt and touched the ground.
Pulse.
He sent a low wave of resonance into the earth.
He expected to feel the Titan. Instead, he felt Pain.
The jungle was screaming. The roots beneath him were trembling, recoiling from the distant fire.
Help us... The Burners come...
"It's aware," Julian whispered. "The whole ecosystem is a hive mind."
SNAP.
A sound from the brush.
Lyra spun around, pistol raised. "Movement. Three o'clock."
The ferns parted.
It wasn't a soldier. It wasn't a wolf.
It looked like a panther, but it had no fur. Its skin was made of overlapping leaves that shimmered like steel. Its claws were thorns. Its eyes were glowing green buds.
A Verdant Stalker.
It hissed, exposing teeth made of white wood.
"Don't shoot," Julian said calmly, standing up.
"It looks hungry, Julian," Lyra warned, finger on the trigger.
"It's scared," Julian said. "It's running from the fire."
He raised his gauntlet. He didn't charge the Sonic Lance. He adjusted the dial on the wrist, tuning the frequency to a low, soothing alpha-wave.
Calm.
He projected the sound. A soft, rhythmic hum.
The Stalker froze. Its ears—shaped like petals—twitched. It looked at Julian, confused. The aggression faded from its posture.
It chuffed, shaking its leafy head, and then bounded past them, vanishing into the undergrowth away from the smoke.
"You talked to a plant-cat?" Skid asked from the ramp, impressed.
"I told it we aren't the fire," Julian said.
Suddenly, a massive tremor shook the ground. Birds flew up from the canopy in a panicked cloud.
"Was that the Titan?" Isolde asked.
"No," Julian looked toward the burn line. "That was an explosion."
He climbed a large root to get a better view.
In the distance, the line of Pyro-Walkers had stopped. Smoke was rising from their ranks.
"Someone is fighting back," Julian realized. "Someone is attacking the Incinerator Corps."
"Who?" Lyra asked. "Who lives in this hell?"
Julian narrowed his eyes. Through the trees, he saw a flash of green light—not Aether, and not nature. It looked like plasma.
"I don't know," Julian jumped down. "But the enemy of my enemy is my potential ally. We're going to find them."
He turned to the team.
"Isolde, stay with the ship. Lyra, you're with me. We're going into the war zone."