Xilo felt it before they understood it.
They were standing at the edge of one of Arakko's living basins, a vast, slow-breathing biome grown directly into the Martian crust.
Coral-like growths pulsed with soft internal light, roots drank minerals from the red soil, and symbiotic organisms drifted through the thin atmosphere in lazy spirals.
Xilo was the system.
Every leaf, every microbe, every adapted organism on Arakko spoke to them, not in words, but in balance. In pressure and In rhythm.
And the rhythm… skipped.
Xilo stilled.
The wind continued. Warriors trained in the distance. Laughter echoed from a nearby terrace where younger mutants sparred and argued about honor.
Everything looked normal.
But deep beneath the surface, at the level where cells whispered to cells, something foreign had entered the song.
…not Martian…
Xilo closed their eyes, consciousness sinking inward, spreading across their living components like roots through stone.
That's when they felt it clearly.
Replication.
Microscopic structures, too small for conventional sensors, too adaptive to be accidental, were embedding themselves into native Arakko biota.
They weren't attacking outright. They were listening. Mapping. Learning chemical pathways, power-expression markers, metabolic weaknesses.
Xilo recoiled internally.
One of Xilo's outer growths withered suddenly, just a thin vine, snapping and dissolving into inert ash.
Xilo's eyes snapped open.
They knelt, placing a hand against the ground.
The planet answered but hesitantly.
Arakko had been forged through war, through apocalypse, through Amenth and endless bloodshed. Its ecosystem was resilient, brutal, proud.
And yet
Something was slipping past its defenses.
How…?
Xilo isolated the signal, tracing it back through air currents, through pressure shifts, through gravity distortions so subtle they barely registered.
That's when they felt it.
Something huge , folded in on itself, wrapped in gravity and silence. Not standing on the planet, hanging just outside it, like a predator watching prey test the air.
Xilo's breath caught.
This thing is already here.
Their internal systems began rejecting the spores but the rejection lagged too long,
The spores adapted mid-process, altering structure faster than Arakko's bio-defenses could respond.
Xilo stood abruptly.
Nearby, a pair of Arakko warriors turned toward them.
Warrior: "Xilo? What troubles the garden?"
Xilo's voice came out slower than usual, layered with the echo of many organisms speaking at once.
Xilo: "The air is compromised."
The warriors frowned.
Warrior: "By what enemy? We sense nothing."
Xilo shook their head.
Xilo: "That is the danger."
Their gaze lifted toward the sky—toward the red expanse where nothing should be hiding.
Xilo: "Something is feeding without teeth."
A sudden pulse rippled through the basin.
Several plants shuddered.
One collapsed entirely.
That got attention.
A sharp wind cut across the terrace.
Far above, clouds twisted unnaturally.
Storm felt it.
So did Isca, who froze mid-step, her expression tightening as probability itself began to blur around her.
Xilo clenched their fists.
Xilo (urgent): "Sound the call. Now."
Warrior: "For what threat?"
Xilo swallowed—something they almost never did.
Xilo: "For the kind that ends worlds quietly."
High above Arakko, unseen, Derrick watched the reaction unfold—data streaming into him in real time.
Detection achieved.
Subject: Xilo, planetary biosymbiote.
Response speed: acceptable.
His spores adjusted again.
Good, Derrick thought calmly.