The hum of the lab still lingered in James' ears, a ghost of the Queen's voice vibrating behind his skull. Even the sterile lights above the barracks couldn't chase away the memory of that throne room — of her fractured eyes and cold patience. Aldren's grip on his shoulder snapped him back to the present.
"On your feet, Hollow," the Commander's voice grated. "You've seen enough ghosts for one night."
They led him down corridors that hummed and pulsed, alive with recycled air and the subtle vibrations of machinery. Pipes rattled overhead; every step echoed against metal floors worn by decades of boots. The barracks were bare — narrow bunks, the faint smell of oil, and the hum that never left. James lowered himself onto one of the bunks, staring at the ceiling cracks. Too familiar. Too alive.
That night, sleep didn't come. His dreams carried him back to the throne room — the Queen's whispers curling like smoke around his mind.
> "You can erase emotion… but you cannot erase what you are."
"You are hollow — but even emptiness echoes."
He woke to the hum of the barracks, chest tight, body tense. By morning, Seren met him in silence.
"We're not testing control anymore," she said as they walked toward the lab. "We're seeing what's left of you."
The lab was blinding white. Machines hummed and pulsed, tendrils of cable snaking across the floor. In the center, a containment field held a fragment of an Echo, flickering in liquid stasis.
James stepped forward. The hum built inside his skull, echoing grief, anger, loss. Then — silence. The fragment dissolved.
Seren's stylus hovered. "You erased it."
James stared at his hands. Hollow. Empty. Dangerous.
Aldren's voice crackled over comm. "Report to the training hall. You start tomorrow."
Above ground, beyond the City Beneath
The hybrid camp was tucked between fractured cliffs and twisted forests. Faint generator lights cast long shadows. Newly awakened, Nyra adjusted her mask and checked the edge of her blade, the soft hum of her veins glowing faintly beneath her skin. She wanted to belong. She wanted to survive.
Orders were simple: reconnaissance only. Observe. Return. No contact.
The team moved like ghosts through the ravine, careful with every step. Static hummed faintly in the air, brushing their nerves raw. The readings were clear: the Refracted were near, disrupting the area, testing boundaries.
They found the base hidden beneath shattered architecture, its faint pulse of energy a heartbeat in the stillness. Sigils scrawled along the walls glowed dimly — a language Nyra recognized but couldn't read.
"Half report, half infiltrate," the leader whispered. Nyra volunteered for the latter, heart hammering.
Inside, the air thickened. Shadows twisted unnaturally, echoing with faint vibrations. Figures moved among machines and tents, human yet fractured, their presence bending the environment itself.
Then came the flicker. They had been seen.
Chaos broke.
Static waves pulsed through the base. The Refracted didn't scream. They didn't shout. They pulsed. Blinding, precise, impossible. Half the team fell instantly; Nyra barely dodged, diving into shadow. She glimpsed comrades caught, sealed in the strange energy that the Refracted wielded.
Then silence.
The Refracted had vanished. The base was abandoned — not destroyed, not destroyed — moved by their own ability. Residue hummed in the air. Static traced the edges of walls, faint sigils still glowing.
At first light, the remaining hybrids returned. Only ruined tents, sealed corpses, and faint traces remained. Nyra and others were gone. The survivors' hope didn't vanish; they would find her.
They drafted plans quietly to go against orders. But Command had already decided: the rescue would not happen. Any attempt to defy it would bring death — or worse.
The wind whispered through the hollowed ruins. The Queen's mark pulsed faintly beneath the earth, watching, waiting.
And somewhere below, James trained. Oblivious, for now, to the threads drawing Nyra, the hybrids, and the Refracted toward him.