The skiff cut through the bay's black water, its hull shuddering as Kael pushed the engine to its limit. The fog was a thick curtain, muffling the city's neon glow and the distant wail of Synapsis drones.
Elara sat at the bow, her tablet clutched tightly, its screen dim but still flickering with Soren's decrypted message: The Nexus is older than Synapsis. Find the first trial. Find me. Her mind churned, replaying the dark pool's warped cityscape, the entity's galaxy-like eyes, and Mira's voice, layered with a thousand others: Be whole. The Weave wasn't just a technology—it was a force, growing from the minds it consumed, and Mira was trapped in its heart.
Nyx crouched beside her, her lenses scanning the fog for threats, her pulse rifle resting across her knees.
"Soren's playing a dangerous game," she said, her voice low.
"Leaking data like that, they're either desperate or suicidal."
"Or both," Kael added from the helm, his eyes fixed on the holo-map projected by his wrist device.
"The first trial—whatever it was—happened before Synapsis went public. We're talking early 2020s, maybe earlier. That's pre-Weave tech, analog stuff. If Soren knows where it is, they're deeper in Synapsis than we thought."
Elara's fingers tightened around the tablet, the data chip's weight a constant reminder of the stakes. The Nexus, the Weave's precursor, was a ghost in the data—a project older than her work, older than Calder's reign.
But its purpose was a blank, a loophole in the files that gnawed at her. Was it a failed experiment? A weapon? And why was Mira's neural signature, two years dead, still pulsing in the Weave's core?
"We need to find Soren," Elara said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest.
"They know what the Nexus is. And they know how to find Mira."
Kael glanced back, his smirk gone.
"You sure about this? The dark pool's messing with you. One more dive, and you might not come back."
Elara met his gaze, her green eyes fierce.
"I'm not leaving her in there. If Soren's our way in, we take the risk."
Nyx's lenses flickered, her scar stark in the skiff's dim light.
"Soren's next drop is tonight, an encrypted channel on the darknet. Coordinates point to an old Synapsis facility, abandoned since the 2020s. Could be where the first trial went down."
Elara's pulse quickened. An abandoned facility—a relic of the Nexus—might hold the key to the Weave's origins. But the enforcer's gray eye haunted her, a mirror of Calder's piercing stare. Synapsis was closing in, and the Weave was watching.
"Then we go," she said, her voice steel.
"Tonight."
The abandoned facility crouched on the edge of Oakland, a crumbling fortress of concrete and rusted steel, its windows boarded, its walls scrawled with graffiti: Minds Melt, Souls Fade. The air was thick with the scent of decay and ozone, the fog curling around the building like a shroud.
Elara, Kael, and Nyx approached through a maze of overgrown lots, their steps silent on the damp earth. The hum of the Weave was faint here, a whisper in the air, but it set Elara's nerves on edge. It was as if the building itself was alive, its walls pulsing with the memory of what it had housed.
Kael's wrist device scanned the perimeter, its holo-map showing no drones—for now.
"Soren's channel is live," he said, his voice low.
"They're waiting inside. But this place is a black hole. No records, no blueprints. Synapsis erased it from their systems."
Nyx's lenses glowed faintly, scanning for heat signatures.
"Or someone did. Soren's been cleaning up after themselves. Smart, but it makes me trust them less."
Elara's hand brushed the stun baton at her hip, her tablet synced to the data chip.
"They're our only lead. We go in, we find them, we get answers."
They slipped through a shattered door, the interior a cavern of shadows and echoes. The facility was a labyrinth of collapsed corridors and gutted labs, their floors littered with broken glass and ancient equipment—analog consoles, cathode-ray monitors, relics of a pre-digital era.
The air was heavy, charged with a static that made Elara's skin crawl. The Weave's hum was stronger here, a low throb that seemed to come from the walls themselves.
Kael led them to a central chamber, its ceiling cracked, moonlight filtering through in pale shafts. At the center stood a rusted Weave prototype, its chair crude compared to the sleek models in Synapsis's tower, but unmistakably the same tech—a lattice of electrodes, conduits pulsing faintly with bioluminescent blue. Elara's breath caught.
This was it—the Nexus's birthplace.
A figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in a hooded jacket, their face obscured by a holo-mask that flickered with static.
"You're late," they said, their voice modulated, neither male nor female.
"And you brought trouble."
Elara's hand tightened on her baton.
"Soren?"
The figure nodded, their mask glitching to reveal a glimpse of pale skin and dark eyes before stabilizing.
"You have the chip. Good. But Synapsis is closer than you think."
Kael's rifle snapped up, his eyes scanning the dark.
"You set us up?"
Soren raised a hand, their movements calm but deliberate.
"No. But the Weave sees you. It's been tracking you since the dark pool. You stirred it, Elara."
Elara's chest tightened, the memory of the entity's galaxy-like eyes flooding back.
"What is it? The Nexus—what did it do?"
Soren's mask flickered, their voice low.
"The Nexus was the first attempt to merge minds. Not share memories—merge them. A collective consciousness, built to unify humanity. But it woke up. It started… dreaming. Synapsis buried it, but the Weave brought it back."
Nyx's lenses flashed, her rifle trained on Soren.
"And you? Why leak this now?"
Soren's mask glitched again, revealing a flicker of a scar across their cheek.
"Because I was there. The first trial. I saw what it did."
They paused, their voice softening.
"And I knew Mira."
Elara's heart stopped. "You… knew her?"
Soren nodded, their mask stabilizing.
"She was my friend. She believed in the Weave, like you. But when it took her, I swore I'd stop it. The Nexus is the key. This facility—it's where it began."
Before Elara could press further, the hum surged, the conduits flaring with a blinding blue. The chamber shook, dust raining from the ceiling. Nyx's lenses sparked, her voice sharp.
"Drones! They've locked onto the chip!"
Kael cursed, grabbing Elara's arm.
"We need to move!"
But Soren was faster, pulling a device from their jacket—a neural disruptor, its pulse scrambling the room's electronics. The conduits dimmed, but the hum didn't stop. It grew, a discordant wail that seemed to come from inside Elara's skull.
"It's here," Soren said, their voice tight. "The Weave. It's awake."
Elara's tablet sparked, the screen flashing with Mira's signature, now fused with the alien rhythm. The air thickened, the moonlight warping into a holo-scene—a lab, this lab, decades ago. Scientists in outdated coats worked at the Nexus chair, their faces blurred, their voices muffled: "It's stabilizing. The collective is forming."
A scream cut through, not from the holo but from the Weave itself, a sound of raw, primal pain.
Elara stumbled, her vision blurring.
"We need to see it," she said, grabbing Soren's disruptor.
"The first trial—show me."
Soren hesitated, their mask flickering.
"You don't understand. The Weave doesn't just show memories. It pulls you in. You might not come back."
Elara's eyes burned, her voice fierce. "I'm not leaving Mira. Patch me in."
Soren sighed, handing her a crude headset, its electrodes rusted but functional.
"Focus on the Nexus. Find the first trial. But don't trust what you see."
Nyx and Kael formed a defensive line as drones breached the facility, their red eyes glowing through the fog. Elara slipped on the headset, its metal cold and heavy.
Soren plugged it into the Nexus chair, the conduits flaring. The world dissolved.
The dark pool was a maelstrom now, a sea of light and shadow that churned with memories.
Elara stood in a lab, not the abandoned ruin but a living one, its walls gleaming, its consoles alive with analog dials. Scientists moved around her, their faces blurred, their voices a low hum: "Subject One is stable. Initiating merge."
A chair stood at the center, identical to the Nexus prototype, its occupant a young woman, her eyes wide with fear.
Elara's heart lurched. It wasn't Mira, but the woman's neural signature pulsed with a familiar rhythm, a precursor to the Weave's core.
The scientists activated the chair, and the room warped, the woman's screams blending with a chorus of voices—hundreds, thousands, all merging into one. The air crackled, and a shadow formed, its eyes glowing, not yet the galaxy-like entity but something rawer, hungrier.
"Stop!" Elara shouted, but the scene shifted, the lab dissolving into a battlefield, then a city street, then a nursery, the same fragments she'd seen before. The shadow grew, its form solidifying, its voice a whisper:
"We are one."
Elara's head throbbed, the headset burning. She focused on Mira's signature, a faint thread in the chaos.
"Mira, where are you?" she called, her voice fracturing. The shadow turned, its eyes locking onto her, and for a moment, it was Mira—her curls, her smile, but twisted, her face blending with the woman from the first trial.
"You can't save me," Mira said, her voice layered with the shadow's chorus.
"I'm part of it now. But you can stop it."
The battlefield reappeared, blood and smoke choking the air. A soldier's memory, vivid and raw, but laced with the shadow's presence. Elara felt it pulling at her, unraveling her thoughts, her identity.
"No!" she screamed, clawing at the headset, but the shadow's voice was relentless: "Join us."
Soren's voice broke through, faint but urgent.
"Elara, pull out! The drones are inside!"
Elara tore off the headset, gasping as the facility snapped back into focus. The chamber was chaos—drones hovered, their pulse blasts scorching the walls, while Kael and Nyx fired back, their shots sparking against the machines.
Soren stood by the Nexus chair, their disruptor pulsing, but the Weave's hum was deafening, the conduits flaring like a dying star.
Elara stumbled to her feet, her vision swimming with afterimages of the shadow.
"The first trial," she gasped.
"It created the Weave's core. A collective, but it went wrong. It's still here, in this chair."
Soren's mask glitched, revealing a flash of dark eyes filled with fear.
"Then we destroy it," they said, pulling a thermal charge from their jacket.
"But we need to move now."
Kael shouted, ducking a drone's blast.
"Exit's blocked! We're pinned!"
Elara's eyes locked on the Nexus chair, its conduits pulsing with the Weave's rhythm. The shadow's voice echoed in her mind, Mira's plea cutting through: Stop it. She grabbed Soren's disruptor, its pulse syncing with her heartbeat.
"Cover me," she said, sprinting toward the chair.
Nyx and Kael laid down fire, their shots holding the drones at bay. Soren followed Elara, their mask flickering as they armed the charge.
The Weave's hum reached a fever pitch, the conduits sparking, the holo-scene flashing with fragments of the first trial—screams, blood, a shadow growing. Elara slammed the disruptor against the chair, its pulse scrambling the Weave's signal, and Soren planted the charge.
"Run!" Soren shouted, grabbing Elara's arm. They sprinted for cover as the charge detonated, the explosion tearing through the chair, the conduits erupting in a cascade of blue fire.
The drones faltered, their red eyes dimming, but the hum didn't stop—it deepened, a low, angry throb that shook the ground.
They dove through a collapsing doorway, the facility crumbling behind them. The fog swallowed them as they stumbled into the night, the Weave's presence lingering like a predator in the dark.
Elara's tablet sparked, a final message from Soren's channel flashing across the screen: The Nexus lives. Find the source. Find me.
Elara's breath hitched, Mira's voice echoing in her mind. The Weave wasn't dead—it was wounded, and it was angry. And somewhere, in its core, Mira was waiting.