The signal tower hummed with unstable energy, its light flickering like a candle fighting wind.
Elara stood at its base, hands trembling as she adjusted the ancient interface—half-tech, half-magic, and barely holding together. She wore a battered jacket over scorched armor, one arm wrapped in dirty gauze. Her once-dark curls were chopped short, uneven, and matted from weeks of travel.
Her eyes, once soft and full of mischief, were now sharp. Tired. But still burning with purpose.
She looked up at the light.
"C'mon," she muttered. "Please still be out there…"
She pressed her hand to the Beacon's sister device—an old comm-link infused with alien tech, jerry-rigged to project across fractured dimensional fields. Something she had barely gotten working after salvaging it from a fallen Hunter.
Static.
A pause.
Then—
A pulse.
Weak, but steady. From the north.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"She's alive…" she whispered, hands covering her mouth. "Oh my god… she's really alive."
She staggered back, overwhelmed. Her knees hit the dirt. A broken laugh escaped her lips, equal parts relief and disbelief.
"I told you," she whispered to herself. "I told you she'd find me."
Suddenly, the air shifted.
A low mechanical hum vibrated through the ground. Elara's eyes snapped toward the treeline.
Shapes moved. Fast. Silent.
Hunters.
Her blood turned to ice.
"No, not now—not now!"
She grabbed her pack and the comm-link, bolting from the signal tower. The beacon was still broadcasting, but she had to lead them away. If they shut it down—Artemis would never find her.
She ran into the misted forest, dodging gnarled roots and fallen trees, breath ragged. Behind her, red targeting lasers scanned through the foliage.
One clipped her shoulder. She hissed, stumbling.
They were gaining.
She turned, pulled the short-blade from her side, and stood her ground.
"I'm not afraid of you," she growled.
They circled her like wolves.
She fought. Wild, desperate. She cut one down before another pinned her.
As it raised its blade—
CLANG!
Something crashed through the forest like a meteor.
A blur of white and red.
Artemis.
She slammed into the Hunter, claws tearing through its core before it could react. Metal screeched. Sparks flew.
Elara stared, stunned. "A… Artemis?"
Artemis stood tall, breathing hard, bloodied and glowing, eyes locked on her.
"Elara," she gasped. "I found you."
Tears blurred Elara's vision.
"You really came…"
"I said I would," Artemis whispered, stepping forward.
But there was no time.
More Hunters surrounded them.
Back-to-back now, Artemis and Elara faced the enemy together.
"You ready?" Artemis asked, her claws humming with light.
Elara smiled through the pain. "Always."
And as the final wave came crashing down—they fought together.
Not as survivors.
But as something more.