The surface burned.
Not with fire — with silence.
The war camp above the Womb's mouth had gone still, and not from rest. Scouts hadn't returned. Watchfires failed to relight. The wind itself carried whispers no one could trace.
Ava stood atop the outer ridge, scanning the horizon. Her sigils were sharp now. Clean. No longer cracked by guilt, but reforged by fear.
[Signal Scan Active – Detection Range: 900m | Crown Trace: Negative | Unknown Pulse: Static Present]
She tapped her comm. "Kael. They're not Crown. But something's close."
Kael responded from the camp center. "Define 'not Crown.'"
Ava turned slowly. "You remember the Ashborn?"
Kael's voice dropped. "Ghost units? That's a myth."
"No," Ava said, scanning the smoke drifting from the north ridge. "It's a warning."
Beneath the surface, Rivan sat in silence.
The Core's glow had faded to a pulse — steady, tired, but connected to him now. The system inside him hummed with new threads, not yet woven.
