The cold mountain winds screamed outside Safehouse Omega as Aurora stood at the edge of the cliff, eyes lost in the dusk beyond. The sun was bleeding behind a curtain of clouds, painting the valley in firelight. Everything had changed since the Vault.
Lucien Vale.
A name she'd buried, burned, and sworn to forget. And now, it was the only name that could save her daughter's life.
Behind her, Wren stepped onto the ledge quietly, wrapped in an old military coat.
"You used to love places like this," she said. "Where the world feels bigger than the war."
Aurora didn't turn. "I loved the illusion that we had peace."
"You think he'll help?" Wren asked after a pause.
"I don't know," Aurora said. "But I know if he's still alive, he's not hiding out of guilt. He's waiting."
Wren stepped beside her, letting the silence grow.
"He's in the East Reaches," she finally said. "That's all I know. After Phase Zero collapsed, he disappeared with something they called the Seed. I don't know what it is. Just that everyone wanted it—and he took it with him."
Aurora narrowed her eyes. "What was the Seed?"
Wren hesitated. "It was a prototype. Not a child. A frequency organism. Designed to amplify control over others. He said it was too dangerous for anyone to use."
"Unless it's already been used," Aurora whispered.
Wren nodded grimly.
Down in the core room of the safehouse, Xander and Elijah were piecing together coordinates from the Vault data Wren had stolen. Screens blinked with fragmented maps and burst-coded signal patterns.
"This encryption is old," Xander muttered, scanning one frame. "Buried in analog static, like it's meant to be forgotten."
Elijah raised a brow. "You saying it's a dead code?"
"I'm saying it's ancient—and designed by Lucien himself. If we find the source of this signal, we find him."
"Or his grave," Elijah said flatly.
Xander smirked. "Optimistic, as always."
Aurora entered, calm but sharp. "We leave at dawn."
Xander looked up. "You sure? You've barely had sleep."
"We don't have time," she said. "The Vault wasn't the end. It was the warning. Whatever Vale took with him, whatever he encoded in Isla, it wasn't an accident. He knew this day would come."
Elijah stepped forward. "And if it's a trap?"
"Then we spring it," Aurora said.
That night, while the others slept, Aurora sat beside Isla's bed again.
The child stirred gently in her sleep, murmuring words in a language that wasn't hers. Symbols shimmered across her skin—just faint pulses, like breathing light. The frequencies were getting stronger. She wouldn't stay dormant forever.
Suddenly, Isla's eyes snapped open.
"A voice," she whispered. "In my dream."
Aurora leaned in, heart tight. "What voice?"
"He said… he was my echo," Isla said, blinking slowly. "He said the key is in the ruin. Where the moon broke the sky."
Aurora felt her stomach twist.
That phrase—"where the moon broke the sky"—was something only Lucien had ever said. A riddle he used to mutter during long nights in the lab, back when they were still scientists and lovers and not fugitives.
She kissed Isla's forehead gently.
"Rest now, my signal star," she whispered. "I'll find him. I swear it."
By morning, the team had loaded their gear into an old pulse-rig—half-armored truck, half-jammer craft. They moved fast, cutting through frozen terrain, shielding themselves from radar with cloaked drive pulses.
The East Reaches weren't on any map.
They followed static ghosts—dead frequencies that didn't bounce off satellite grids. A coded trail only Aurora and Lucien could read.
Days passed.
Snow. Silence. Cold that clawed under the skin.
And finally, on the seventh day—they found it.
A crater, carved into the side of a collapsed ridge.
Inside: ruins of a forgotten research site, half-swallowed by ice and ash.
It was marked with one symbol etched into the wall—a crescent moon split in half.
Xander killed the engine.
"Home sweet hell," he muttered.
Wren stepped out first, scanning the signal. "It's here. A neural presence. Low energy. Still broadcasting."
Elijah held his rifle tight. "Then we're not alone."
They moved in formation, carefully down the broken steps into the belly of the site.
Inside, the air was unnaturally still.
And in the heart of the crater—beneath flickering emergency lights—stood a chamber made of obsidian panels.
And inside that chamber, floating mid-air in a stasis field, was a man.
Lucien Vale.
Aged. Pale. Eyes closed. Connected to thousands of signal wires that pulsed with dormant code.
Aurora's heart cracked in silence.
He hadn't run.
He had imprisoned himself.