The wind howled through the alleyways of lower Silex as Luma tightened her cloak and followed Ion into the abandoned tram tunnel. Beneath the city, beyond public access, lay a sealed route rumored to lead straight into the lower reaches of the Spire—the vaults that hadn't seen sunlight in decades.
"This isn't just illegal," Juno muttered, brushing dust from her jacket. "This is expulsion-worthy. Possibly exile. Or spontaneous combustion."
"No one's combusting," Ion said dryly. "Unless someone messes up the pressure seals."
"Oh good," Juno replied. "Only explosions, then."
Selka and Rhon met them near an old valve room, their faces lit by the glow of twin wrist-mounted devices. "We synced the expansion charges. Ready when you are," Rhon said.
Luma peered at the thick steel door at the end of the corridor. Above it, half-covered in grime, were the words: AUXILIARY RESEARCH VAULT – SPATIAL TESTING.
"I thought this whole area was sealed off for safety," Luma said.
"It was," Ion replied. "Because they were storing tech too dangerous to destroy."
Selka flicked a switch. "Or too useful for someone in power to let go of."
They braced as Rhon activated the pressure-driven expansion device—an adapted gas law chamber that rapidly increased internal volume using controlled heat. The door groaned, buckled, and finally popped open with a hiss of decompressed air and steam.
Inside, the chamber was dark, filled with skeletal machines and layered catwalks. The air smelled of copper, oil, and something faintly floral—like old memory.
"Stay close," Ion said. "The architecture here… shifts. The vaults were designed to reconfigure based on magnetic resonance—makes mapping nearly impossible."
They moved as a unit, their steps echoing. Strange sounds filtered through vents. Whispered static. Mechanical breathing. Occasionally, light would bend oddly near a corner or shimmer like heat on a cold wall.
They reached a central vault door inscribed with the Spire's triskelion symbol, but distorted. The center of the design spun slowly—not metaphorically, but literally, rotating as if anchored to a different plane.
Juno tapped it. "That's not supposed to happen, right?"
"Nope," Luma said.
They opened it carefully, revealing a chamber full of suspended entropy devices. Each floated in its own isolation field—blinking, humming, waiting.
Luma felt a pull in her gut, like the space was breathing around them. "They're testing entropy on space distortion. Not just energy interference."
Rhon's voice was hushed. "We're standing inside the problem. This… this is where it all began."
Ion approached one of the terminals and plugged in a data spike. The display flickered, then glowed.
PROJECT: CITADEL UNDERLIGHT. OBJECTIVE: DIMENSIONAL SINGULARITY CONTROL.
Selka exhaled. "This is big."
"No," Ion said. "This is the foundation of the Masters' entire strategy."
Luma turned to the others. "Then we take everything. We document it. Broadcast it. Expose them."
Juno smirked. "Finally. A science experiment worth risking expulsion for."
As they began copying files and gathering evidence, the magnetic resonance of the vault began to spike. Lights flickered. A low tremor shook the floor.
"We've got company," Ion said.
Backtracking became a sprint. Machines groaned to life, alarms wailed in harmonics. Luma shouted for them to move in sync as the magnetic wave tried to twist the vault corridors into a maze.
They barely escaped through the expanding gas door as it began to reseal behind them. Juno laughed breathlessly once outside.
"That was close. And terrifying. And awesome."
Ion held up the data spike, now glowing faint blue. "Let's hope this is enough to shake the Spire's foundations."
Luma looked back at the now-quiet tunnel. "We're not just resisting anymore."
She tightened her gauntlet and smiled. "We're dismantling."