The Ghost Fleet drifted in silence, a thousand guns waiting, their glyphs dimmed to a steady, patient glow. But the galaxy beyond was anything but quiet.
Every comm-channel Vector scanned was flooded — militias swearing to rise, colonies screaming in panic, warlords claiming the name of Echo for themselves. The war had spread before Maya could even breathe.
Maya sat at the heart of it, staring through the viewport at the fleet she had awakened. Her veins still burned, faint glyphs crawling beneath her skin. The Archive whispered softly now, a lull instead of a storm.
"Anchor stable. Awaiting kin."
She frowned. "Kin?"
Rei's head snapped up from the console, eyes sharpening. "What did it say?"
Before she could answer, the ship trembled. Not from attack — from resonance.
A new signal flared through the void. Not Architect, not Echo. Something in between.
Vector grabbed the railing, scanning the dark. "What now?"
And then they appeared.
A formation of ships slid from the shadows — smaller than the Ghost Fleet, but alive, their hulls marked with glyphs of their own. Different patterns. Different bloodlines.
Maya's chest clenched. She could feel them, faint threads pulling at her blood like a magnet. Carriers.
The Archive surged with recognition.
"Lineage confirmed. Carriers awakened."
One ship hailed them, the voice low, reverent, and sharp as a blade.
"Maya Kade. You are not the only heir. The Carriers walk again. And war is ours to inherit."
The transmission cut, leaving silence behind. Vector's jaw locked, his hand falling to his weapon. "What the hell does that mean?"
Rei's lips parted, his eyes gleaming with fevered light. "It means she isn't alone anymore. There are others. Other bloodlines. Other anchors. Other Echos."
Maya pressed her palms against the viewport, her pulse racing.
Not alone. Not the only heir.
But that didn't mean she had allies.