The Wraith drifted in low orbit above the shattered remains of the Architect Nexus, its engines humming softly a lullaby for the war-weary.
No alarms. No enemies. Just quiet.
Too quiet.
Inside, the crew moved like survivors of a storm. Not broken. But altered.
The walls that had once echoed with commands, banter, and the occasional shouted death-avoidance plan now held silence like a secret. It stretched between corridors and across glances, heavy and uncertain.
Elara stood alone in the med bay.
Not because she was injured.
But because something inside her hadn't settled.
The Fifth Seed was gone. Destroyed.
But it had touched her deeper than the Third. Deeper than any memory shard or neural map ever had.
Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she still heard it whisper.
"Love is the last virus."
The words looped. Not as a threat. But a promise.
She pressed her fingers to the bioglass and stared at her reflection.
She didn't look like a weapon anymore.
Just... tired.
