Ash clung to the sky like a second skin, blurring the line between earth and cloud. The Drop Zone wasn't a place people went by choice. It was where the Citadel dumped its failures—obsolete tech, dead drones, expired food rations, and once, entire sectors when structural integrity "suddenly failed."
Sira Vey crouched behind a twisted satellite arm, her breath steady despite the thin air. The wind shrieked through the junk towers, carrying the metallic scent of rust and ozone. Her scavenger gloves flexed as she scanned the area. Nothing moved—good. No others, no drones, no Warden patrols. She had maybe fifteen minutes.
The ground beneath her boots shifted, giving slightly. Old metals, half-melted plastics, and glassed sand made for unreliable footing. But she knew where to step. She'd been coming here since she was twelve.
She adjusted her goggles and slid down the pile of wreckage, her boots scraping sparks. The pit opened below her—a gaping crater of discarded centuries. A scavenger's graveyard. The air was hotter here, and every breath tasted like burning wires.
This was where the Citadel's memory went to die.
---
"Come on, old beast... show me something new," she whispered.
Her scanner chirped—a faint blue ping. Deep layer. Forty meters. She frowned. Blue meant it was active. Nothing down here should be active.
She activated her harness. The cable hissed out, anchoring to a jagged drone wing overhead. Her descent was slow, controlled, until her boots touched down on a warped platform of exo-steel. Dust billowed up. She coughed once and waved it off.
The signal was coming from under a collapsed cargo hull. She activated her mini-lift and slid the structure aside inch by inch until the glimmer of smooth metal peeked through the grime.
It wasn't a weapon.
It wasn't a power cell.
It was… round. Like a stone. Black, with silver veins glowing faintly across the surface.
And it was whispering.
She froze.
The shard pulsed once under her glove. A deep, low hum rattled her teeth.
Then the voice came—not out loud, but inside her head.
> "Architect Archive Fragment… recovery in progress."
Sira stumbled back, eyes wide. The shard slipped from her fingers and hit the ground with a chime like crystal. A memory shard? From the Architects? That was impossible. The Architects were legends—long-dead founders of the Citadels. No one had seen one in centuries. No confirmed recordings, no living witnesses.
She should leave it.
She knew she should.
Instead, she knelt down, heart pounding.
> "Cognitive link initiated… Hello, Sira Vey."
---
She flinched so hard she nearly hit her head on a girder.
"No. No no no. That's not possible," she muttered, looking around as if someone was watching. The shard glowed brighter in response. Her goggles flickered, and for a second, the world around her shifted.
The Drop Zone faded.
In its place, a floating city hovered in pristine daylight. White spires. Blue banners. Clean air.
And a face—someone looking right at her.
An old man. Bald. Eyes silver. Robes stitched with circuits.
> "If you're seeing this, it means the last failsafe has activated. And it means the Citadel is dying."
Then the vision vanished. The junkyard returned. The ash fell.
Sira's chest heaved. Her pulse throbbed in her ears.
---
A crack of static behind her.
She turned—and froze.
A Warden drone.
Bulky, eight-limbed, matte-black. It emerged from the ruins like a spider, red eyes scanning, sensors pulsing. It should not have been here. The Drop Zone was too deep for regular patrols.
> "CIVILIAN TRESPASS DETECTED," it barked in its distorted voice. "DROP ALL ITEMS. KNEEL. IDENTIFICATION REQUIRED."
Sira backed away, the shard still in her hand.
> "Repeat. DROP ALL ITEMS—"
She didn't wait.
She ran.
---
Her boots pounded against metal, then plastic, then fractured stone. Behind her, the Warden gave chase, limbs clicking like bones. It leapt over barriers, knocking down towers of debris as it moved.
She ducked into a shaft she knew too well—an old service tunnel warped by heat and time. She slid inside, barely fitting, as the drone's arm snapped shut behind her, missing her ankle by centimeters.
> "UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS. ALERTING CENTRAL ENFORCEMENT."
The words echoed behind her as she scrambled forward, shard clutched tight. She didn't stop until she reached the upper vent, kicked it open, and tumbled out into the open air of the Outer Slums.
She lay there, staring up at the underbelly of Caeluma.
A lattice of metal and glowing veins stretched across the sky, the inverted city humming above her. Buildings hung upside down like stalactites. The elite lived topside—above the clouds. Everyone else lived in the dirt.
She clutched the shard to her chest, its warmth now steady, like a second heartbeat.
---
Later that night
In a rusted-out pod converted into her living quarters, Sira locked the door and sealed the blinds. Her mind still buzzed with static and echoing voices.
The shard sat on the table, glowing faintly.
> "Architect Archive Fragment," she whispered. "Why now? Why me?"
She picked it up.
It was warm. Too warm.
> "You seek truth, Sira Vey."
She nearly dropped it again. "Stop doing that!"
> "I was made to be found. The Citadel's collapse was predicted. We made preparations."
"We? Who's we?"
> "I am Architect Vorn Ilyas. This fragment is a seed. One of seven."
Sira paced the room. "What do you want from me?"
> "To finish what we started. To return balance. To awaken Terra."
She stared at the shard.
> "What is Terra?"
Silence.
Then, a whisper:
> "The heart."
---
End of Chapter 1