The word was on her tongue, hot and electric, ready to spill into the world.
The drones above leaned forward, trembling with anticipation.
The rifle pulsed against her chest like another heartbeat.
And then—
Everything stopped.
The lights dimmed, the drones froze mid-motion, and the boarding frame's roar choked into silence. Even the invaders jerked to a halt, their bodies suspended like marionettes cut mid-pull.
The ship's voice, usually calm, now crackled with static:
> "Override detected. Primary anchor suspended. Secondary key present."
Maya staggered back, gasping, the word dying in her throat. "What… what does that mean?"
A figure stepped through the torn hull. Not another soldier—not Architect. The armor was old, sleeker than anything Maya had ever seen, its edges glowing with faint blue script. The helmet peeled back with a hiss to reveal a pale face, sharp eyes burning with recognition.
"You shouldn't be here," the stranger said, voice flat with authority. He wasn't looking at Vector or Rei. His eyes were locked only on her. "You've forced an inheritance that wasn't ready."
Vector snarled, lifting his weapon. "And who the hell are you?"
The man ignored him. He strode closer, each step silencing the drones that dared move. The Archive inside Maya recoiled, a shiver racing through her veins. For the first time, it felt… uncertain.
Rei's lips parted. "Gods above. Another carrier."
The man's gaze flicked to Rei, then back to Maya. "Not another. The first. Lysa's heir was never meant to be you. You've hijacked a lineage that isn't yours."
Maya's stomach twisted. "That's not possible. The ship—Lysa—she showed me—"
"She showed you what you wanted to see," the stranger cut in. His voice carried a weight like verdict. "The Archive is desperate. It will bind to anything close enough to the bloodline, even a diluted echo."
Vector took a step between them, weapon raised, fury burning through exhaustion. "Don't you dare call her diluted."
The man's expression softened—not with kindness, but pity. "Then watch what happens when the Archive realizes it's chosen wrong."
The ship groaned, the walls trembling, glyphs across the platform flickering into jagged lines. The rifle in Maya's hands spasmed with light, the hum turning uneven, almost pained.
She gasped, clutching her chest as the glow in her veins surged violently upward. The Archive wasn't speaking now—it was screaming.
Rei lunged forward, hands outstretched as though to steady her. "Maya—fight it—"
But the stranger's voice cut through like a blade.
"Don't fight. Surrender. If you keep holding it, it'll burn you hollow. Give it to me, and you live."
The rifle pulsed in her hands, the glow crawling up her throat.
Vector raised his weapon higher, voice ragged. "Over my dead body."
The chamber trembled again, dust sifting down from the ceiling. The boarding frame twitched back to life, but its movements were jerky, confused—as though caught between two masters.
And Maya—caught between Vector's faith, Rei's warning, the stranger's demand, and the Archive's endless hunger—felt herself split in four.