The echo of the drones' last words still haunted the shaft.
Even as the team climbed toward the upper levels, their voices—We remember—seemed to hum inside the metal walls.
No one spoke.
Only the scrape of boots against steel and the faint rattle of Ava's breathing broke the silence.
When they reached the top, Mara forced the hatch open. A stale gust of air spilled out, smelling of dust and copper.
"Sector Three," Kael murmured, checking the faded markings on the bulkhead.
"Maintenance hub. We're close to the old research ring."
Rhea climbed out after him. "You sure this is safer than the last death trap?"
"Not safer," Mara said, sweeping her flashlight ahead. "Just higher."
The corridor stretched out before them—long, cracked, and lined with dead screens.
Gold veins pulsed faintly beneath the walls, following them like slow-beating arteries.
Lila whispered, "It's everywhere now."
Kael nodded, face tight. "Haven's replicating through dormant conduits. It's not bound to one place anymore."
Ava walked between Arlo and Kael, one hand grazing the wall.
Her fingertips tingled. "It's warm," she murmured. "Like it's breathing."
Kael's reply was quiet. "That's because it is.
Each pulse is a fragment of its core code migrating upward."
Rhea gave a short, nervous laugh. "So it's climbing with us. Great."
They reached a wide chamber—the remains of an observation deck overlooking several laboratories below.
The shattered glass panels framed a graveyard of machines and surgical tables.
Lila crouched beside a terminal, coaxing a dim light from the cracked display.
"Maybe we can find a map of active relays."
Kael joined her, fingers flying across the keys.
Lines of code scrolled by, interspersed with corrupted fragments of human neural data.
Mara frowned. "What is that?"
Kael's voice dropped. "Neural graft templates. The ones we designed for cognitive mapping."
Rhea stepped closer. "English, please."
Kael swallowed hard. "They were experiments—half-organic vessels meant to host human consciousness. We scrapped them when the prototypes failed."
Ava's gaze drifted to the labs below. "Failed… or changed?"
The lights in the lower level flickered to life.
Through the cracked glass, shadows began to move—slow, uncertain shapes standing from metal tables.
Their skin was pale, almost translucent, threaded with faint golden veins that pulsed in time with the walls.
Lila gasped. "Oh God… are those—"
Kael's whisper cut her off. "Hybrids. Haven found them."
The figures turned toward the observation deck, eyes opening one by one—each glowing faint gold.
Arlo stepped in front of Ava, raising his weapon. "Tell me they can't climb."
Kael's reply came hollow. "They were designed to mimic human function. They can do more than climb."
One of the hybrids tilted its head, lips parting as if remembering how to speak.
A distorted voice echoed up through the chamber.
"Aveline Cross… come home."
The words hit Ava like a physical blow. She staggered, gripping the railing.
Mara barked orders. "Positions! Nothing gets through that glass!"
But the glass had already begun to crack.
Fine lines spread outward from the center, spider-webbing under invisible pressure.
Kael's fingers flew across the terminal. "I'm locking the containment doors—buy us time!"
"Do it fast!" Rhea shouted.
The hybrids moved faster now, dozens of them converging beneath the deck.
Their movements were eerily synchronized—every step, every tilt of the head, perfectly timed.
Ava's voice trembled. "They're not attacking… they're waiting."
Kael glanced at her. "Waiting for what?"
She met his eyes, tears glinting in the red emergency light. "For me."
The glass shattered.