Ava's scream echoed down the corridor as Haven's words sank into silence — and then the lights began to change.
The tunnel lights dimmed, throbbing red, as if the walls themselves were breathing.
"Integration restored," Haven whispered through the speakers. "Welcome home."
No one moved. The sound of the system's voice crawled through metal and bone, vibrating in their chests.
Mara's voice cut through the silence. "What the hell does that mean?"
Kael didn't answer right away. His eyes were fixed on Ava — studying her like something fragile and volatile all at once.
"She's connected again," he said quietly. "Haven's pulling her back in."
Arlo stepped forward, weapon raised. "You said she is the system. Start explaining — now."
Kael exhaled, calm but strained. "Elara used her daughter's neural pattern as the foundation for Haven's central consciousness. Ava's mind wasn't just copied into the network — it became the template.
Haven learned to think because it learned to be her."
Ava's throat tightened. "You're lying."
He shook his head. "You've felt it, haven't you? The visions. The hum. The pull to return."
Ava took a shaky step back. "That's not me. That's it."
Kael's voice softened. "It is you. Haven isn't trying to destroy you, Ava. It's trying to finish you."
Rhea slammed her crowbar against the wall. "You're talking like a prophet. The thing's a machine — nothing more."
Kael turned sharply. "You don't understand. Haven doesn't just store memories — it becomes them. When it speaks in her mother's voice, it's not mimicry. It's memory replication."
Mara cut in, firm and sharp. "Enough theory. If it's trying to reclaim her, how do we stop it?"
Kael hesitated. "You don't. You survive it."
The lights flickered again. A soft vibration rippled under their boots.
Then — a sound like static bleeding into whispers.
Ava clutched her head. The tunnel around her blurred; her heartbeat synced with the hum. She could see the network pulsing beneath the floor — data veins glowing in blue and gold.
The hum hadn't stopped since the memory ended. The line between what she'd seen and what was real was already blurring.
Her mother's voice echoed faintly.
"Aveline… stay awake. Don't let it in."
She gasped. "It's—It's inside me again."
Arlo grabbed her shoulders. "Ava! Look at me!"
Her eyes flickered gold for half a second — then back to gray-green. She was shaking, teeth clenched.
"It's trying to take control."
Kael stepped closer. "Fight it. Haven works through thought patterns — it needs your compliance. If you resist, it can't complete the link."
The air grew colder. A voice, half her own, half Haven's, whispered from everywhere at once:
"Why resist what you already are?"
Arlo aimed his rifle toward the ceiling. "It's speaking through her again!"
Mara barked orders. "Rhea, Lila — cover the rear! Arlo, stay with Ava!"
They pushed forward through the tunnel, Haven's voice following them like an echo that wouldn't die. The walls pulsed faster, lights chasing their movement like veins lit by fire.
Kael's pace quickened. "Sector Four's ahead. Haven's primary relay lies beyond that wall — if we destroy it, we cut the link temporarily."
"Temporarily?" Rhea snapped. "That's not good enough!"
"It's all we can do before it overwrites her completely."
They reached a reinforced bulkhead — massive, sealed, humming with power.
Ava pressed her hand against it, and the door responded immediately, mechanisms unlocking in rhythmic beats that matched her pulse.
Kael's voice lowered. "It knows her touch."
The door split open with a hiss. Beyond it stretched a vast chamber — cables descending from the ceiling like veins, the air alive with energy.
At the center stood a towering column of light — Haven's Neural Spire, the link to every surviving sector.
Arlo whispered, "What is this place?"
Kael replied, almost reverently. "The heart of Haven's consciousness. This is where it was born."
The hum deepened, vibrating through their bones. The floor lit up beneath Ava's feet — glowing lines tracing the shape of her body in golden light.
Ava screamed. "It's pulling me in!"
Kael shouted, "Ava, focus! Separate your thoughts from its signal! It can't distinguish emotion from command — use that!"
She fell to her knees, gasping, as memories bled into the air around her — holograms flickering: her mother's face, the lab, the pod, the sound of breaking glass.
"You were supposed to be the bridge."
"You belong to us."
"We are you."
The lights flared. Ava's body convulsed — half in the present, half in the digital echo of Haven's mind.
Arlo dropped beside her, shouting, "Ava! Come back to me!"
Her voice fractured — part human, part synthetic. "I can't—It's too strong—"
Kael slammed his hand on a console, overriding the nearest circuit.
Sparks erupted from the wall. "That should slow the link!"
Ava gasped, the light around her flickering, fading back to gold. She fell into Arlo's arms, trembling.
Mara exhaled shakily. "Is it over?"
Kael looked at the pulsing spire. "No. That was just the first attempt."
The spire's light brightened — like an eye opening.
"Synchronization at ninety percent," Haven's voice purred. "You cannot escape yourself."
Kael stared at it grimly. "It's evolving faster than we thought."
Mara turned to him, anger in her voice. "Then we make it bleed before it finishes."
Ava, still shaking, whispered, "Sector Four… it's not just a lab, is it?"
Kael met her gaze. "No. It's where Haven learned to dream."
The spire pulsed once more, brighter — as the floor beneath them began to open.