The hollow hissed.
Vents along the curved walls opened silently, releasing a harmless cooling mist across the metal corridor. The Dawnbreakers were gathered around the central core chamber, the walls now pulsing with soft quantum-blue light. Aera stood at the center of the circular platform, datapad in hand, but her eyes were fixed on the projection above.
Syrix had spoken.
Not in voice—but in data.
And now, they watched.
The simulated battlefield bloomed like a virus on the holo-display. Dozens of moving pieces, denoted by crimson sigils, flowed across the continents. The enemy's insignia—Dezune—was stamped onto every unit.
"This…" Elian murmured, eyes narrowed. "This is a real-time predictive simulation."
"No," Aera said quietly. "It's worse. It's what will happen—unless we stop it."
Syrix's projection adjusted. The model zoomed in on the Lucent Alliance front, showing fortified cities one by one crumbling under a blitzkrieg of exo-clad infantry and mechanized siege units. Cities turned to ruin. Defensive lines overwhelmed.
An alert blinked red.
"TIME TO COLLAPSE: 6 MONTHS, 3 DAYS, 11 HOURS""ERROR MARGIN: 2.3%"
"No way they're that fast," Varra said. "That has to be exaggerated."
"Syrix doesn't exaggerate," Elian replied. "She doesn't know how."
More data scrolled in rapid streams—supply lines, reinforcement timelines, diplomatic fractures, morale thresholds.
"Even if the Lucent Alliance manages to hold on, Syrix projects internal collapse from within. They're not just losing militarily. They're fracturing politically. Too many nations, not enough unity."
Aera's throat felt dry.
They had come all this way.
All the effort. All the sacrifice. And now they stood in the bowels of a dead system, staring at a future already lost.
Unless…
"Zoom in on our location," she commanded.
Syrix obeyed.
The projection panned to their present location—just outside the Hollow. Then further east. Toward the Lucent Alliance capital.
"RECOMMENDED TRAJECTORY — HIGH PRIORITY""REASON: STRATEGIC INFLECTION POINT"
Aera frowned. "Inflection point?"
Elian spoke up. "It means... something that can change the outcome. A butterfly wing that causes a storm."
The map updated.
Aera stared as new data points appeared—convoys, commanders, resistance pockets.
Syrix wasn't just showing them the future.
She was offering them a way to change it.
But it would mean moving now. No more detours. No more rests.
"We don't have a choice," Aera said quietly, eyes still locked on the projection. "We get to the capital, and we warn them. We show them this."
Varra gave a sharp nod. "When do we move?"
Aera turned to face her squad. Her voice was steady.
"At dawn."