Xen turned slightly, focusing on the alert, parsing the data stream as it bloomed across his internal display.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
A familiar cadence.
A familiar encryption key.
A familiar presence.
Royce’s voice was still rising. “I’ve got to answer to three committees—do you even understand what this means for our funding next quarter?”
“Nex is alive,” Xen said, cutting him off.
Royce stopped cold.
“What?”
“I have signal. Low-strength, but consistent. It’s him. And he’s not alone.”
SIRENA IS ALIVE.
RENDEZVOUS: VERMEIL
WINDOW: DAWN (LOCAL)
The words flashed across his internal display like a flare in deep water—sharp, bright, undeniable.
And the response that echoed across his systems was immediate.
Bandwidth surged.
Diagnostic threads lit green.
Subroutines that had been throttled for emotional containment began to spin up—wildly, uncontrollably.
Stabilizers hissed.
Muscle tension pinged redline.
Even his optic modules spiked into max resolution, as though they didn’t trust the data unless they couldseeher.
He forced a reboot cascade across three emotional buffers just to keep his voice steady.
Then the message updated.
DO NOT SHARE THIS LOCATION.
HOLD. OBSERVE.
PRIORITY: HER DIRECTIVES ONLY.
—N
Xen blinked internally, the glow of his display dimming just enough to let logic reassert itself.
Sirena was alive. Nex was transmitting. And she was the one calling the shots.
He could feel the shape of a smile trying to form somewhere inside the simulation parameters of his mouth.
