The chamber lights flash from white to amber as security protocols escalate.
“Detain her,” the media officer snaps at the guards.
They step forward.
Then hesitate.
Their comm units crackle with overlapping orders—detain, stand down, secure perimeter, hold position.
“Which command?” one guard mutters, confusion threading his voice.
Before anyone answers, the floor trembles.
It is not subtle.
It is not distant.
It is impact.
The chamber shudders as something heavy breaches an outer corridor. The vibration travels up through the platform and into my bones.
The guards turn toward the door instinctively.
“External breach detected,” the station AI announces, voice clipped and calm. “Inner detention wing compromised.”
My pulse spikes.
Valen’s inset feed fractures completely as signal routing diverts to emergency prioritization.
Another shockwave rolls through the floor.
The door at the far end of the chamber buckles inward under force.
A guard raises his weapon toward me.
“Don’t,” I say quietly.
The door detonates inward in a scream of tortured metal.
Smoke and sparks flood the threshold.
Through it steps a silhouette I would recognize anywhere—broad-shouldered, spurs catching the flashing emergency lights, blade already wet with the cost of entry.
Kael.
He does not hesitate.
The first guard falls before he finishes turning, blade carving clean through the seam of armor. The second fires reflexively;the pulse shot glances off Kael’s shoulder plating and leaves only scorched fabric behind.
“Down!” Kael roars.
I drop instinctively as he surges forward, eliminating the remaining resistance with brutal precision.
The media officer scrambles backward toward the console. “Seal the chamber!”
“Lockdown failing,” the technician shouts. “Grid unstable!”
Security drones deploy from the ceiling in frantic bursts, but they move without cohesion—half receiving stand-down orders, half executing kill directives.
