The chamber was deeper than most, secured by six layers of clearance Elira hadn't even known existed. She stood on a platform between Dray and the Scientist—Fenrir excluded by design, and Brakka and Vranos stationed elsewhere on classified assignments.
Here, the truth flowed unfiltered.
The lights dimmed. A central holocore illuminated. The moment the projection stabilized, both Dray and the Scientist spoke in unison:
"Initiating Final Protocol."
Elira's eyes narrowed. "You're syncing."
"This protocol was meant to be declared together," Dray replied, stepping forward. "It marks the beginning of the full core activation sequence."
"You mean we finally use them?" Elira asked. "Control, Memory, Purpose… Pattern's already active in Fenrir."
The Scientist's synthetic voice cut in, sharper than before. "Pattern is unstable, barely aligned. Purpose is incomplete. And your progress, Elira, is still unsatisfactory."
She flinched, but held her ground. "You keep saying that, but I'm the only one actively working on awakening. What do you expect?"
"By now," the Scientist hissed, "you should have begun resonance with Purpose Core. You should feel its feedback. Instead, you're meditating like a first-gen emulator trying to dream."
"Enough," Dray said quietly, but firmly.
The room's central display began rotating visual models of four cores—Purpose, Control, Memory, Pattern—each linked in tangled chains of activation logic. Then they reconfigured into a new schema.
"The original order was always Purpose → Memory → Control → Pattern," said the Scientist. "Purpose determines direction. Memory builds structure. Control shapes execution. And Pattern weaves it into the world."
"But Pattern came first," Elira muttered, watching Fenrir's profile flash on the screen. His core now pulsed in unstable violet tones, veined with darker tendrils. It was spreading.
Dray folded his arms. "Which is why the cycle is out of alignment. And why we must restore the proper sequence. Only you can activate purpose, but in its absence, Control is necessary."
"So we start with Control?" she asked, cautiously.
The Scientist nodded. "The Control Core is buried beneath the Arctic Singularity Facility—lost during the collapse. You'll retrieve it. You'll bond with it. And give it Brakka."
But Elira frowned. "No."
Silence.
She spoke again, more firmly. "Vranos needs the Memory Core. He's unraveling. If you try to load Control before stabilizing him, it'll just add pressure to a crumbling structure. The control you seek will fail—because the memory isn't there to support it."
Dray watched her quietly.
The Scientist stepped closer, posture stiff with disdain. "Do you think this is a negotiation?"
"I think you're running out of options," Elira snapped. "And I know you know I'm right."
Another beat of silence.
Then, with a cold, grinding tone, the Scientist relented. "Then lead. Take the Memory Core next. Stabilize Vranos. But mark this, Elira—if your development flatlines again, this project will terminate. And all of you—Fenrir, Brakka, you—will be reset."
Dray nodded slowly. "You wanted to act like more than a tool. Now we'll see if you were right."
The projection dimmed.
The room darkened.
Elira stood still for a moment, processing the weight of what had just been handed to her.
Then, for the first time since her own awakening, she smiled.
Not out of defiance.
But determination.