Three days.
It had been three days since the refugees entered the city, and the City of Glass Bones had transformed.
It was no longer a silent tomb of the Old Kings. It was alive.
On Level 10 (Hydroponics), the rhythmic hum of harvesters was accompanied by the sound of human laughter. Fifty former slaves were tending to the genetically modified wheat, their faces flushed not with fever, but with the joy of honest work.
On Level 3 (The Foundry), the sparks of welding torches flew. Under the guidance of the automated fabricators, men were repairing the damaged transport trucks, stripping off the Scavenger spikes and fitting them with clean, ceramic plating.
From the balcony of the Spire, Elara watched it all on her holographic interface.
[POPULATION: 502][HAPPINESS: 85%][FOOD STORES: STABLE][DEFENSE GRID: ACTIVE]
It was perfect. It was everything she had promised Ciro. A Kingdom.
"You're smiling," Ciro's voice came from behind her.
Elara turned. Her Shadow Commander was not wearing his helmet today. He wore the black bodysuit of his stealth gear, but his face was exposed. He looked tired, but his eyes were sharp.
"I am looking at my city, Ciro," Elara said, gesturing to the screens. "Look at them. They aren't slaves anymore. They are mechanics, farmers, teachers. We gave them a purpose."
"Purpose is good," Ciro walked to the console, picking up a datapad. "But discipline is better."
He tapped the screen, bringing up a video feed of the Training Grounds on the lower level.
Fifty young men and women were running drills. They held practice spears made of blunt plastic. They were clumsy, slow, and weak.
"I call them the Glass Guard," Ciro said, crossing his arms. "Right now, they are terrible. If Krog attacks tomorrow, they will die in thirty seconds."
"They are survivors, Ciro," Elara defended them. "They survived the Ashlands. They have heart."
"Heart doesn't stop a bullet, Your Majesty," Ciro said bluntly. "Krog is quiet. Too quiet. His scouts have vanished from the horizon. That means he is planning something big. I need to push these recruits harder."
Elara sighed. She knew he was right.
"Do what you must, Commander. But remember, they are not assassins. They are defenders."
"ALERT," AURA's voice suddenly cut through the conversation. "ANOMALY DETECTED IN SECTOR 4 - POWER RELAY STATION."
Elara frowned. "Define anomaly."
"POWER FLUCTUATION," AURA explained. "ENERGY OUTPUT TO THE WESTERN SHIELD GENERATOR HAS DROPPED BY 40%. DIAGNOSTIC SUGGESTS MECHANICAL OBSTRUCTION."
"Mechanical obstruction?" Ciro's eyes narrowed. "Did a rat chew through the cable?"
"NEGATIVE. CABLES ARE SHIELDED. PROBABILITY OF NATURAL FAILURE: 0.01%."
Ciro and Elara exchanged a look. The relaxed atmosphere of the morning evaporated instantly.
"Sector 4," Ciro said, reaching for his helmet on the table. "That's the main conduit for the defensive perimeter facing the desert."
"If that shield goes down..." Elara started, her face paling.
"...then Krog can drive a tank right through the wall without scratching the paint," Ciro finished. He snapped the black glass helmet onto his head. The human face vanished, replaced by the cold visage of the Shadow Commander.
"Ghost!" Ciro barked.
The white wolf, sleeping in the corner, snapped awake and scrambled to his feet.
"Elara, stay here," Ciro ordered. "Monitor the sensors. If anyone tries to leave the sector, lock the doors."
Sector 4: Power Relay Station
The corridor was dark, lit only by the emergency red strip-lights. The hum of the massive power conduits was usually a steady thrum, but now it sounded uneven—like a heart with an arrhythmia.
Ciro moved silently, his Stealth Suit absorbing the sound of his footsteps. Ghost padded beside him, sniffing the air.
The wolf growled low, the hair on his back standing up.
"Smell something, boy?" Ciro whispered.
Ghost stopped in front of a maintenance panel. The metal cover had been pried open. Inside, a complex tangle of wires and glowing crystals pulsed.
But something didn't belong.
Jammed between the primary crystal and the conductor was a piece of scrap metal. It was crude, rusted—Scavenger tech. It was acting as a resistor, bleeding off the energy and overheating the system.
"It wasn't a rat," Ciro muttered, inspecting the sabotage. "It was a leech."
He pulled the scrap metal out.
ZAP.
Sparks flew. The hum of the machine instantly smoothed out, returning to a healthy rhythm.
"Elara," Ciro activated his comms. "It was sabotage. Someone placed a dampener on the relay. It was designed to slowly weaken the shield over days so AURA wouldn't notice until it was too late."
"Who?" Elara's voice was tight with anger. "We scanned everyone. No weapons. No tech."
"They didn't use tech," Ciro said, crushing the rusted metal in his hand. "They used trash. A piece of a spoon. A wire from a broken radio. Someone improvised this."
Suddenly, Ghost barked. He spun around, facing the dark end of the corridor.
A shadow moved.
It wasn't a soldier. It was small. Agile.
"Stop!" Ciro shouted, drawing his energy dagger.
The figure didn't stop. It sprinted toward the ventilation shaft.
"Get him, Ghost!"
The wolf launched himself down the hallway, a white blur of fury.
The intruder was fast, scrambling up the wall like a spider. He reached the vent.
Ghost snapped, his jaws closing on the intruder's ankle.
RIP.
Fabric tore. The intruder kicked Ghost in the nose—a desperate, flailing kick—and scrambled into the vent.
Ghost whined, shaking his head, spitting out a piece of grey cloth.
Ciro reached the vent a second later, but it was too late. The intruder was gone, disappearing into the labyrinth of air ducts that connected the entire city.
Ciro picked up the piece of cloth Ghost had torn off.
It was a patch. A rough, hand-stitched symbol on a dirty grey rag.
A symbol of a Black Gear with Teeth.
Ciro froze. He recognized that symbol. It wasn't Krog's mark. Krog used a Skull.
"Elara," Ciro said, his voice grim. "We have a problem. The saboteur isn't just a Scavenger."
"Who is it?"
"The patch belongs to the Techno-Cult," Ciro said, clenching his fist. "The engineers of the Wasteland. The ones who build Krog's tanks."
There was silence on the line.
"He wasn't trying to disable the shield, Elara," Ciro realized, a cold dread settling in his stomach. "He was testing us. He wanted to see how fast AURA would react."
"Testing us for what?"
Ciro looked at the vent where the spy had vanished.
"For the big weapon," Ciro whispered. "They aren't going to siege us, Elara. They are going to erase us."
[SYSTEM ALERT][EXTERNAL SENSORS: MASSIVE ENERGY SIGNATURE DETECTED.][DISTANCE: 10 MILES.][CLASSIFICATION: TITAN-CLASS.]
The floor of the city shook.
This time, it wasn't drums. It was footsteps. Giant, mechanical footsteps that made the teeth rattle in Ciro's skull.
The saboteur had done his job. He had confirmed the shield was active, forcing Krog to bring out the god-killer.
The Siege had truly begun.