"You're not supposed to exist."
Atlas stared at her, his system interface flickering in disbelief. The subspace chamber—constructed from the last remnants of pre-extinction tech—hummed around them like it was alive, resonating with their DNA.
Yet it wasn't the tech that stunned him.
It was her.
The woman claiming to be his sister stood in the hazy projection field, flickering slightly from temporal interference. She looked human—scars on her jaw, burns on her neck—but her presence felt wrong, like a melody played just slightly out of tune.
Her name hadn't been spoken yet, but every cell in Atlas's body was screaming a truth he didn't want to face.
She had his eyes.
And she looked like she hadn't slept in decades.
"I buried my family ten thousand years ago," Atlas said coldly. "You're a ghost. Or worse—some Vorr trick."
"The Vorr wish they could fake me," she said, a bitter laugh escaping her. "But no, brother—I'm very real. And so is the war that never ended."
Twelve Hours Earlier – Sector 9, Outer Rim Debris Field
Across the shattered remains of what was once Luna's defense grid, a scavenger cruiser limped through the debris. Inside, alarms blared, smoke choked the hallways, and a single child hid beneath a broken stasis pod.
She couldn't have been more than ten.
Her skin was pale, marked with glowing fractal tattoos.
A radio crackled beside her—old Earth tech.
"This is Phoenix Outpost. Transmission repeat: Atlas Thorne is awake. He's awake. The Last Warlord has returned."
The girl's trembling lips curled into a smile.
Then she whispered a name—
"Papa…"
Present – Subspace Vault
Atlas backed away, instinctively gripping the hilt of his plasma-forged blade.
"Start explaining," he demanded. "If you're really my sister—prove it. And tell me how the hell you're alive."
She took a step closer—through the projection haze.
"I was part of the Eclipse Program. A failsafe."
His eyes narrowed.
"I remember the name," he said slowly. "Dad mentioned it once. Right before he was taken."
"It was never meant for the military," she continued. "It was for us—the warlords' families. Genetically enhanced, hidden in deep-code bunkers. We were cryo-stored separately. Isolated. Untraceable to the Vorr."
Atlas's gut twisted. If what she said was true, then some of Earth's elite bloodlines—the generals, tacticians, scientists—had been preserved like secret weapons.
"But the Vorr found us eventually," she whispered. "Some of us made it out. Others… weren't so lucky."
Her eyes darkened.
"I only survived because he helped me."
Atlas's voice dropped an octave. "He?"
"The Vorr defector. The one who calls himself Ash Revenant."
Atlas went still.
He'd heard the name during the war's final years. A renegade Vorr commander who turned on his kind after learning the truth about the extermination protocols. A monster who slaughtered his own kind to protect human children.
And a name buried in redacted war logs.
"He saved me," she said. "Taught me how to fight. How to survive."
"And how to lie?"
That got a laugh out of her.
"I had to become something else. You wouldn't have recognized me back then either, Atlas."
He looked away, breathing slowly. The pain of loss, the echo of betrayal, the guilt of having survived—it all crashed back like acid rain.
"I need proof," he said. "DNA. Records. Something."
She nodded.
"I left you a memory crystal inside the vault's cryo-chamber. Slot it into Nyra's interface. It'll trigger a protocol."
He gave her one last look before turning.
Ten Minutes Later – Vault Core Chamber
The room was pitch black until Atlas activated his system light.
Rows of shattered cryo-pods lined the chamber—most of them empty, or worse. Some still held bones, some frozen blood.
But at the center, untouched, sat a single metal pedestal.
A shard of translucent crystal hovered above it—humanoid DNA code swirling within like a frozen galaxy.
He lifted it carefully and slotted it into his wrist-comp.
Nyra appeared instantly, her expression stunned.
"This data… it's her. And she is… genetically 91.3% similar to you."
Atlas's jaw clenched. "That much?"
"You share a father. But her enhancements came later. Advanced nanite fusion, possibly Vorr tech woven into her nerves."
He turned back toward the projection room, but it had already shut down.
She was gone.
"Signal terminated," Nyra confirmed. "But she left coordinates."
"Where?"
"The ruins of Mars."
Atlas's breath caught.
Mars had been glassed by planetary disruptors during the last wave of the war. No one in their right mind would go there.
Which made it the perfect place to hide.
And suddenly, something else clicked.
The message. The voice. The warning.
"They lied."
Who?
The Vorr?
The Eclipse survivors?
Nyra flickered beside him, her usually composed tone now carrying a rare hint of concern.
"Atlas… there's more. The signal wasn't just coming from her. It was layered with another signature."
He turned to her sharply.
"Whose?"
"Yours."
His chest went tight. "What?"
"The signal you received earlier—it had a hidden thread. Buried so deep only your DNA key could access it. I decrypted it."
She raised a hand and projected the data string.
A voice played.
Younger.
Pained.
But unmistakably his.
"This is Atlas Thorne, Commander of Earth's Final Resistance. If this message is playing, I'm already dead—or worse. Don't trust the Eclipse survivors. Don't trust me. I've seen what I become. If you find her—kill her."
Atlas stared at the recording—his own voice, a thousand years old, warning him from the grave.
His blood ran cold.
He turned to Nyra slowly.
"Did I just tell myself… to kill my sister?"
Nyra's eyes flickered.
"Or something wearing her face."