The rain hadn't let up in hours.
Kael Rainer trudged across an old highway, broken and jagged like the spine of a dead beast. Nature and time had clawed it apart, but worse things had passed here too. He stepped carefully, boots crunching over glass, bones, and the strange brittle resin left behind after BTs faded.
Mire walked silently beside him, her silhouette flickering like a flame in wind. Her head tilted back as if she were listening to something Kael couldn't hear.
They were ten kilometers out from Outpost S-14, a blacksite once run quietly by a forgotten wing of Bridges. Kael only knew about it because he'd worked there—before things fell apart. Before he started walking alone.
The case on his back pulsed again. Not loud, but steady. It was... alive. And whatever was inside had started reacting to something in the world—or the Beach.
Mire stepped in front of him and pointed ahead.
Kael lifted his scope. Through the fog, a small facility came into view. Low profile, concrete walls overtaken by vines. Motionless. Lights dim. No signs of activity. A small antenna jutted upward, still blinking red despite its isolation.
"S-14," Kael said. "Still breathing. That's a surprise."
He moved down the ridge, Mire drifting ahead like a scout. As they approached the entrance, Kael tapped his wrist interface and tried the old access code.
[ERROR: USER ACCESS REVOKED]
He sighed. "Of course."
Reaching for a side panel, Kael pried it open, bypassing the circuit to force the gate. After a flicker of protest, it hissed open with a rusted groan.
Inside, the walls were lined with shattered equipment and storage racks. Dust hung thick in the air, swirling around broken terminal lights. The outpost was long-abandoned.
Except… something was humming.
Kael followed the noise down a short corridor, past a set of old cryo-tanks and BB incubation pods. Most were dark. Cracked. Forgotten.
Then he saw it—Terminal B7, still active. A glowing blue screen, waiting.
He stepped closer and placed his palm on the biometric scanner.
To his surprise, it chirped.
[WELCOME BACK, DR. RAINER]
Mire appeared beside him, staring at the screen. Her form was flickering faster now.
"Someone left this system alive," Kael muttered. "Someone who wanted me to find it."
The interface flashed. New message. Time-stamped six months ago.
He opened it.
---
MESSAGE: PROJECT NIOBE / FINAL LOG
From: Dr. Terrence H. Wang
To: Clearance Level: Kael Rainer, DOOMS 5
"Kael, if you're seeing this… then the asset has reached you. Or worse, it's awakened on its own. We failed to contain it. You were right—this wasn't just a research tool. It's not just chiral. It's intelligent. Conscious."
"Bridges shut us down before we could prove it. They were afraid. We thought we were making a better BB. What we made… might be a bridge of its own. Between the living and the dead. Between extinction and rebirth."
"If you still believe in what we started… don't let them take it. Don't let them bury it again."
"Good luck, Rainer. And tell her I'm sorry."
---
The screen flickered and went black.
Kael stood still. His jaw tightened.
Mire stepped closer, touching the terminal with her small hand. Static rippled outward.
"Project Niobe," Kael murmured. "No wonder the pay was so high."
He set the cargo case on the counter and slowly unlocked the seals. One hissed. Then another.
Inside was a pod. BB-sized, but different—sleeker, darker, built with chiral crystal filaments instead of glass. The liquid inside shimmered gold.
Floating in the center was not a baby. It looked human, yes—but not fetal. Not underdeveloped.
The face was still. Sleeping. Peaceful.
A child.
Older than any BB Kael had seen. Maybe five. Maybe six.
And she looked almost exactly like Mire.
Kael reeled back slightly, staring at Mire beside him, then at the girl in the pod.
"What the hell—?"
Before he could process the thought, the pod pulsed. A wave of chiral energy burst outward, rippling through the walls of the outpost. The lights dimmed and blinked.
The Odradek reactivated, spinning frantically.
Outside, the wind picked up.
Something was coming.
Kael slammed the case shut and secured the locks. Mire gripped his coat, her form dimming in distress.
"Move," Kael whispered, already sprinting toward the entrance. "We're not alone anymore."
They reached the door just as the ground rumbled beneath them. Tar bubbled through cracks in the pavement outside. BTs. But these weren't random. These were being driven—herded like hounds.
From the edge of the forested hill, a figure stepped into view, draped in a long coat the color of rusted steel. A mask covered their face—half gas mask, half ceremonial death shroud. The Odradek clicked violently at the sight of them.
Kael froze.
He knew that posture. That presence.
"Deadman said you died," Kael muttered. "Guess they were wrong."
The figure raised a hand, and the BTs behind them halted. They didn't attack. They waited.
"You've been holding her," the masked one said, voice filtered and emotionless. "You don't know what she is. But I do."
Kael stepped protectively in front of the case. "You're not getting her."
"She's not yours. She was never yours. She's a prototype of extinction itself. A precursor. A living resonance—what we called an 'Echo Child.' You think you've been talking to BTs, Rainer? You've been talking to her."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "You're lying."
The figure chuckled. "Then ask Mire."
Kael glanced down. Mire was staring at the case, frozen.
The resemblance was undeniable.
For a brief moment, he heard it—not a voice, not exactly—but a whisper. From both Mire and the pod. "You remember me."
And in that moment, Kael understood.
Mire had not followed him.
She had found him.
And she had been leading him… back.
---
Kael took a slow breath, sliding the pod back onto his back and securing it.
"Whatever she is," he said, voice low, "she chose me. And I'm not handing her over."
The figure said nothing. But the BTs behind him began to stir again.
Kael stepped forward, Mire at his side.
"Come and try."
And with that, the storm began.