The next three days passed in a submerged, silent routine. Anya, fueled by nutrient paste and a fierce, intellectual resolve, worked miracles on the Nautilus. The ship was a Frankenstein's monster of its former self, its elegant systems bypassed and jury-rigged, but its heart—the Aetheric drive—was slowly and steadily coming back to life.
Ren's work was quieter, but no less arduous. He spent every waking hour in the library, his mind immersed in the poisonous scripture of the Void. He learned to protect himself, guided by Zephyrion. He would encase his own consciousness in a thin, protective layer of his will, a mental Aegis that allowed him to study the nihilistic text without letting its core tenets infect his own spirit.
He began to see patterns, to understand the structure of the Pagoda's forbidden research. They were not just building weapons; they were trying to achieve a state they called "Spiritual Silence," a way to nullify their own soul's chaotic song to become more like the perfect, orderly Void they worshipped. This was the true purpose of their "meditations," the ultimate goal of their "order."
It was during one of these deep study sessions that it happened.
As he traced a particularly complex line of ontological code, the scar on his soul—the wound left by the Void's attack—flared with a sudden, sympathetic pain. The world of the library vanished, and Ren was plunged into a vision, an echo of recent events from a perspective not his own. He saw through the eyes of Archon Fen on the beach, felt the Master's incandescent fury, and experienced the sensory-blinding assault of the Nautilus's Resonance Scrambler.
The vision shattered, and Ren gasped, clutching his head, back in the library.
"A dangerous gift," Zephyrion warned. "The Void connects all who have been touched by it. You are using the wound they gave you as a window back into their world. But every time you open that window, you risk letting more of their silence in."
Ren knew the spirit was right. But it was also an invaluable weapon. He pushed past the pain and focused his will, deliberately reaching out through the scar, searching for the echo of Archon Fen after their escape.
He found him. The vision was hazy, a ghost of a memory. He saw Fen, back in the ruins of his laboratory, standing before a long-range comms unit. He was speaking to a hooded, shadowy figure on a holographic screen.
"…a complete failure," Fen's voice was a low, controlled rage. "The subject escaped. All the data from Project Chimera has been wiped. Years of work, gone."
The hooded figure on the screen was silent for a moment. Its voice, when it came, was synthesized, cold, and utterly devoid of emotion. "Your failure is irrelevant. The subject is the priority. You know what must be done. The Conclave of Silence has been summoned. Bring us the boy. Or do not bother to return at all."
The transmission ended.
Ren pulled himself from the vision, a cold dread settling in his stomach. The Pagoda was not just sending hunters anymore. They were convening a "Conclave of Silence." It sounded like a war council.
At that moment, Anya's voice came over the intercom, sharp and urgent. "Ren. Get to the bridge. Now."
Ren rushed to the bridge. Anya was pointing at the newly repaired long-range sensor display. A single, powerful GAMA signature had just appeared on the edge of their detection range.
"It's a GAMA dispatch cruiser," she said, her face grim. "High-speed, long-range. Archon-class. It's not a patrol. It's a dedicated hunter, and it's heading directly for this sector." She zoomed in on the ship's identification beacon. Her blood ran cold.
"The ship is the Vindicator," she whispered. She pulled up the mission roster assigned to the vessel. "The ship's commander is an Aether Master, but GAMA has assigned a special detachment to lead the hunt. An elite 'Stalker' squad."
She looked at Ren, her face pale. "Their tactical commander, the one with full authority over the search… it's Eva Rostova."