The morning came grey and hollow. Rain slid down the steel rooftops of Sector Eleven, painting everything in dull silver.
Aren sat quietly at the table, pretending to eat. His mind was still lost in the forest's glow, in that voice that had whispered inside him. His mother's soft chatter barely reached him.
Lira Vale hummed while cooking, her hands steady even in scarcity. Her eyes were tired but warm—like small lamps that refused to go out. Across the table, Daren Vale smoked a battered pipe, his scarred face shadowed by thought.
"You were out again," Daren said finally.
Aren froze.
He didn't bother denying it. His father had once worked the outer barricades—he could read tracks better than any drone.
"I told you to stay clear of the Abyss," Daren said, voice low. "People vanish there. Whole patrols. You think they just wander off?"
Aren clenched his jaw. "Something's happening out there, Dad. I felt—"
"You felt nothing but death creeping closer."
Daren's voice was sharp now, filled with something between fear and anger.
Before Aren could answer, a vibration rattled through the floor. The lights flickered. Outside, engines roared low and heavy—unmistakably military.
Lira stepped to the window and froze. "Vanguard."
Aren rushed beside her. Black-armored hovercraft glided through the streets, the insignia of the Vanguard Directorate glowing blue on their sides.
Daren crushed his pipe and stood. "Get to the back room. Now."
Aren's heart raced. The Directorate never came this deep into the sector—unless they were hunting.
He peeked through a crack in the window. Soldiers swept scanners through alleyways, their helmets humming with data. The air shimmered faintly—search beams tracing energy signatures invisible to the naked eye.
Then one of the scanners pinged.
A sharp metallic tone.
The light stopped on their house.
Aren felt the blood in his veins ignite. The glow beneath his skin pulsed, faint but visible.
Lira's eyes widened. "Aren—your arm—"
Before he could respond, a soldier shouted outside.
"Energy spike! High concentration—Sector Eleven grid!"
Daren grabbed his son's shoulder hard. "Basement. Now. Don't argue."
As Aren stumbled down the narrow steps, the sound of boots thundered above. The door burst open.
Through the cracks of the floorboards, he saw shadows move—and his father's silhouette, standing between the soldiers and the hidden stair.
> "No one here but me," Daren said, voice calm.
"Our sensors disagree," came a cold, metallic reply.
The whine of plasma rifles followed.
Aren's heart broke the silence.
The world above erupted in light.
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