Dot moved through the silent corridors of the Vault almost on autopilot. As much as she tried to stay centered, something restless stirred in her chest.

  Nyx.

  In person.

  After years of exchanging nothing but messages, instructions, code, and flawless results. Nyx was more than a system partner — she was a quiet constant. The only one who always responded with precision, no fluff, no wasted words.

  “My heartless AI chatbot… who would’ve thought,” Dot muttered to herself, a tired edge curling into her laugh.

  Footsteps echoed behind her.

  She turned on instinct and exhaled when she caught the familiar silhouette strolling toward her — jacket collar up, eyes lit with that ever-present, mocking glint.

  “Maybe she wasn’t so heartless,” Spectrum remarked smoothly. “If she’s got you speed-walking through the halls like that.”

  Dot stopped, narrowing her eyes with theatrical exhaustion.

  “Do you always show up uninvited?”

  “Invitation is an overrated concept.” His grin didn’t falter. “I follow wherever the drama promises a show. And your new guest? She’s got potential.”

  “If there’s one thing Nyx has, it’s talent.”

  Something shifted in Spectrum’s gaze. Subtle. But there.

  “You know her?” Dot asked, taking a step closer, curiosity flickering at the almost imperceptible tension in his expression.

  Spectrum let out a sigh so dramatic it felt rehearsed.

  “‘Know’ is putting it mildly. She digitally stalked me for months.” A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “A shadow that bites.”

  Dot arched a brow, already amused.

  “I thought no one could catch up to you.”

  “She didn’t.” Spectrum lifted a brow, pure cynicism. “She just got close enough to make me consider… tearing apart my own neural network.”

  Dot laughed.

  “That sounds a little… personal.”

  “‘Annoyed’ is the word you’re looking for.” He stepped closer, something bright and dangerous flickering in his eyes as he began to circle her; not lazily, but with restless precision. A slow orbit. Measured. Intentional.

  “Dot… she’s the only creature in this hell of a world who understands my invasion architecture without asking permission.” His voice followed her as he moved behind her shoulder, then along her other side. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

  She didn’t bother answering. She simply waited for the theatrics to peak. Something in his gaze shifted — darker, sharper. That version of Spectrum everyone knew carried a hint of instability now seemed to hum beneath his skin, barely contained.

  Still, she couldn’t resist.

  “Is it just me… or are you about to snap?”

  Spectrum stopped mid-orbit and closed the distance in one smooth step, lowering his voice to a near-whisper, almost amused.

  “Snap?” he murmured. “Oh, Butterfly. I already did. I’m just picking the soundtrack for when she walks in. Something between Mozart… and an evacuation siren.”

  Before she could reply, he cut her off, the smile returning — wider now, edged with something unreasonably wicked. His eyes dragged over her, slow and shameless, his tone shifting.

  “Speaking of which… you and Ghost, huh?” He tilted his chin toward her as if dissecting her expression. “Rooftop. Tension. Hands wandering into restricted territory… I thought I’d have to come down a floor waving a white flag. Or a fire extinguisher.”

  Dot froze. Heat climbed instantly to her face.

  He laughed, satisfied.

  “Relax. Nothing original about getting caught mid-pose.” He lifted a shoulder in mock sympathy. “Just not usually that cinematic. I swear, all that was missing was dramatic music when the elevator doors opened.”

  “Congratulations on your impeccable timing,” she shot back, unable to suppress a laugh.

  “That’s what I’m here for.” He raised both hands in theatrical surrender. “Comic relief of this act. And maybe a tiny bit of doom prophet.”

  “I haven’t given you that title.”

  “You should.” He resumed moving, drifting around her again — closer this time, like static brushing skin. “Anyway… it’ll be interesting to see you two together. The emotionally unstable one and the functional sociopath.” He smirked. “Five credits say you wreck half the hangar before sunset.”

  Dot shifted her weight, one hand settling at her hip.

  “She’s my ally, Spectrum. There’s no reason for us to cause anything.”

  “For now.” He stepped back at last and gave her a mocking bow. “Go on. Welcome your little heroine. Just don’t be surprised if she turns out to be a lot more like me… than like you.”

  She merely arched a brow, curious about what he was implying, but said nothing.

  He turned his back on her, whistling a dissonant melody as he disappeared down the corridor again, as if he were part of the Vault’s very structure — unstable, indispensable and mildly dangerous.

  Dot stayed there for a moment, drawing in a slow breath. She wondered what exactly he had meant by all that, but with a small tilt of her head, she pushed the thought aside and started walking again.

  Nyx. The invisible partner. Ghost in the code. The faceless hacker. And now… a visitor inside the Vault.

  For a brief moment, Dot felt genuinely excited. She would have preferred meeting her under better circumstances, but she had never truly believed it would happen. Not if it depended on Nyx’s own will.

  And right now, that same colleague was a survivor with more scars than answers.

  Dot moved forward.

  The meeting was now, and nothing in her chest felt ready.

  She headed toward what she knew to be one of the improvised infirmary rooms. Her eyes flicked once more to her communicator, almost as if to confirm she wasn’t imagining it.

  [Private Message Received]

  “I’m in the room that tried and failed to be an infirmary.

  If you wanna confirm I’m not dead, come by.”

  — Nyx

  She was here.

  Real.

  The door slid open automatically, and Dot stepped inside with visible reluctance.

  The improvised infirmary was small, bare concrete walls making it feel more like a medical holding cell than an actual treatment room. A few rusted metal cabinets, a lamp shoved into a corner, a lone IV stand and an obsolete equipment abandoned along one wall. A rolling cart with a cardboard box full of gauze, tape, and a half-used bottle of painkillers.

  Nyx sat on the narrow examination table, torso slightly inclined forward, fingers gripping the edge of the metal bar beneath her. Her feet dangled in the air, too short to touch the floor. The worn soles of her sneakers cut idle arcs back and forth.

  A crooked, makeshift bandage clumsily taped over her eyebrow looked like it had been done in a hurry. A small but visible scrape marked her jaw, the kind that suggested the last fight hadn’t ended quite as neatly as she would have liked.

  But her eyes... her green were intact. Sharp. Dark and fixed on Dot as if she were scanning for system corruption.

  Dot straightened unconsciously, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.

  “You…” Her voice came out low. Almost a whisper.

  Nyx lifted her chin slightly but kept her expression neutral.

  “Hey.”

  That was it. Dry. Direct. As if that single word were a password. A wall. A reminder that she didn’t trust anyone.

  Not even Dot.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “…Nyx?”

  Dot was still trying to reconcile the precise, impersonal hacker from encrypted messages with the slender figure in front of her, perched on a narrow medical table, feet swinging like a kid on a playground bench.

  Nyx seemed roughly her height, maybe a little shorter, but noticeably lighter. There was a first-glance fragility to her frame, as if a stronger gust of wind might carry her off.

  Her skin was pale, almost muted under the cold lighting, faint freckles scattered across it. A few strands of light brown hair, long and straight, slipped out from beneath the hood of an old sweatshirt and fell over her small shoulders. The fabric looked worn from days of use, oversized at the torso — chosen less to fit than to disappear inside.

  She looked close to Dot’s age. Maybe slightly younger. And yet there was something in her eyes — a dense, almost impenetrable green — that contradicted the delicacy of her features. A weary lucidity. Too mature for a face that still seemed on the verge of vanishing into its own silence.

  One corner of Nyx’s mouth lifted in a crooked, almost sarcastic half-smile. Her voice came out hoarse, but steady.

  “I had the impression you’d be taller.”

  Dot blinked. A nervous laugh almost escaped, but caught somewhere between her chest and throat.

  “And I thought you were an algorithm.”

  “Almost was.”

  The quick reply drew a soft laugh from Dot.

  It was strange. Spending years alongside someone without ever hearing their voice in real time. She knew Nyx’s typing cadence, the signature in her code, even the logic behind her silences during an intrusion. But now she was a body. A scent. A presence.

  “You’re hurt,” Dot observed, crossing her arms.

  Nyx shrugged.

  “I’ve been worse.”

  Dot stepped closer and sat beside her on the table, voice lower now. Slightly hesitant.

  “Are you still in danger?”

  Nyx hesitated.

  And for the first time, her answer was almost not an answer.

  “Depends. On whether you’re actually going to help me.”

  Dot nodded and this time with the certainty of someone who didn’t need to think twice.

  “You’ve done a hell of a lot for me, Nyx. Now it’s my turn.”

  Her eyes stayed locked on Nyx’s as if that weren’t a choice but a fact. Nyx didn’t change her expression, but her shoulders loosened. Just a millimeter.

  The beginning of their fragile, in-person interaction was cut short by the soft mechanical hiss of the automatic door sliding open. Dot didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The dragged rhythm of boots, the faint scent of solvent, the chaotic digital static flickering across the interface...

  Spectrum.

  "So it’s true." he said, leaning lazily against the automatic doorframe, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world. His eyes, though, lingered on her for far too long. "You materialized. Again."

  Despite the usual crooked smile, there was something in his tone, something edged with mockery, that made Dot instinctively frown and shift as if to stand. But before she could, the air changed beside her.

  Nyx had already jumped down from the examination table. She stood now, body angled toward Spectrum as he approached in slow, deliberate steps. The makeshift bandage over her brow caught the harsh white light, and loose strands of hair framed her face like shadows.

  Dot noticed it then, the way Nyx looked at him. A fierce containment, as if every muscle were restraining an explosion.

  Nyx’s voice came low, each word dipped in venom.

  “And you’re still the same idiot. Figures.”

  Spectrum spread his arms as if she’d just paid him the highest compliment.

  “Oh? I thought you missed me.”

  “Yeah. Like I miss throwing up.”

  Dot blinked, an unconscious half-smile forming. Okay… that’s unexpected. Nyx, who until now barely spoke in full sentences, was standing there with her chest lifted, jaw locked, eyes sparking.

  Spectrum didn’t retreat. Quite the opposite. He took two more steps, stopping close enough to provoke.

  The height difference between them was almost comical: she, barely five-foot-something of tightly compressed fury, had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. And he, tall, broad-shouldered, saturated in sarcasm, looked down at her like he was admiring a spark seconds away from becoming wildfire.

  “I thought you’d run for good,” he said, lowering his voice, sarcasm thickening. “But look at that… the little girl came back with battlefield makeup.”

  “I came back because I don’t waste time on unfinished business.” Nyx’s answer was clean. Flat.

  The silence that followed felt heavy. Dot, still seated and saying nothing, watched them with growing amusement, like two incompatible codes trying to overwrite each other on the same line.

  “Well... based on the lovely, totally not-hostile energy in here,” she said, a grin in her voice, “I’m guessing you two are… close?”

  Spectrum didn’t take his eyes off Nyx.

  “Let’s just say the esteemed Miss Hacker and I… share a past. But someone chickened out halfway through and hit escape.”

  “Chickened out?” Nyx let out a short, sharp laugh. “That’s rich. Coming from someone who hides behind a crooked grin and shitty jokes.”

  “Still better than bolting the second things got too real for you.” Spectrum shot back, smile sharper now.

  Nyx stepped forward. For a split second, Dot thought she might actually hit him. Or at least make a valiant attempt. The hood slipped from Nyx’s head with the movement, exposing the messy twist of hair pinned at the back. Her green eyes had lightened, almost luminous now, with a fury that didn’t shout.

  It imploded.

  “Running was practically your middle name,” Nyx said, voice dry. “Didn’t even have the guts to admit it.”

  That one landed. Something in Spectrum’s posture shifted, barely, but enough. He leaned down, closing the distance until there was almost no space left between them.

  “Or maybe,” he said quietly, acid slipping into his tone, “I just prefer to keep my weaknesses where no one can see them.” His gaze sharpened. “Unlike someone who builds sarcasm walls to hide how broken she is.”

  Dot felt the temperature spike and for a moment, she genuinely couldn’t tell if they were about to start throwing punches...or kiss. Noticing they’d completely forgotten she existed, Dot hopped off the examination table with an intentionally loud thud.

  “Okay, children. Let’s all inhale. Deeply.”

  She spread her arms in exaggerated mediation.

  Nyx drew in a sharp breath and stepped back, as if the air itself burned. She turned abruptly, walking to the nearest counter and bracing herself against it, head lowered. Spectrum watched her, but the look in his eyes wasn’t mocking now. It was something else.

  Like someone watching an old ghost step back into the room.

  For a second, Dot thought he might say something real. Instead, his posture shifted. The grin snapped back into place automatically.

  “Well,” he said lightly, “I’ll let you two catch up. You have so much in common. Including terrible taste in secrets.”

  Nyx shot him a look over her shoulder — lethal — before facing the counter again. He turned on his heel, that loose, almost rhythmic walk returning as he headed for the door. At the threshold, he glanced back once more, smile angled.

  “Oh, Dot… careful with that one. She bites.”

  “And if I remember correctly,” Nyx replied coldly, without turning around, “you still bleed.”

  The door slid shut behind him.

  The silence that remained was thicker than before.

  Dot watched Nyx for a moment, mentally sorting through what she had just witnessed. She noticed the tension in her colleague’s hand gripping the counter, the rigid set of her shoulders, the restless micro-movements, like the world itself was still a threat.

  “Okay,” Dot said slowly, not even trying to hide the grin still lingering. “That was… unexpected. To say the least.” She hesitated. “So. You and Spectrum…” Careful. Curious. “…ancient history?”

  “Enough.”

  The answer hovered there — fragile. Sensitive.

  Dot recognized a minefield when she saw one. She wouldn’t get more than that. Not now.

  Nyx grabbed a piece of gauze from the cart, peeled off the bandage, and began cleaning the dried blood from her eyebrow. The movements were just a little too rough. Her voice came quieter this time, less charged. More human.

  “He knows things he never should’ve known. But he’s not stupid.” A beat. “Just… dangerous.”

  She tossed the blood-stained gauze into the bin. Her breathing was still slightly uneven, as if her body hadn’t fully left defense mode.

  Dot had been silent up to now, processing. It was strange seeing Nyx, once so monosyllabic and impersonal, nearly unravel in five minutes of verbal combat with Spectrum, also equally shaken.

  When she spoke, her voice was softer.

  “What really happened, Nyx?” There was genuine concern there now. “Why did you ask for shelter?”

  Nyx remained silent, still with her back turned. She focused on fixing a new bandage properly over the cut on her brow while Dot settled back onto the exam table.

  Bandage secured, Nyx moved slowly toward her. At the corner of the table sat a worn backpack cluttered with keychains. She opened it casually and pulled out a small device, activating a faint holographic panel. The projection flickered to life between them. She didn’t reveal the data yet — she simply held it there, like a boundary.

  “The phone your contractor left behind… turned out to be a starting point,” she said evenly. “A very crowded one.”

  Dot arched a brow. She had almost forgotten about it. The old phone, from the contract that had gone wrong. Very wrong. Almost unconsciously, her gaze drifted to the marked skin on her arm.

  Nyx gave a humorless half-smile.

  “I dug around. Hit something big.” she tapped lightly at the bandage on her eyebrow, “And it hit back”

  Dot frowned.

  “But why? Why push it that far?”

  Nyx exhaled through her nose, irritated. Questions like that always bothered her. She began pacing the small room in short, precise steps, the restless walk of someone who thought better in motion.

  “If you found a treasure chest full of maps,” she said, “would you just grab the treasure and run… or would you study the maps too?”

  Dot stayed quiet, watching her more carefully now. She didn’t fully grasp the motivation, but she understood the instinct. Digging was what Nyx did best, she thought with a tired half-smile.

  Nyx kept moving, fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted the holographic interface, as if the light touch against the projections steadied her. Justifying herself had never been her strength. She acted because it made sense. Because it was necessary. Because it was obvious.

  Dot’s voice broke the silence, low and measured.

  “And what did you find? Besides what you already told me?”

  Nyx stopped. She sat beside Dot with methodical precision, not touching, but close enough. She slid a finger through the projection, revealing the data.

  “The phone was the entry point. I went deeper and found much more. Genetic manipulation. Neural tracking. Magnetic fields calibrated to respond to… something.” Her jaw tightened slightly. “The word ‘Ascendant’ doesn’t appear anywhere in the files. But it hangs over everything. Like a ghost in the code.”

  Dot felt her throat dry. The tension climbed through her body, every muscle recognizing the implications. Marrow had already brought her too close to the reality of Shrouded, Ascendants, and suspicious labs.

  “And all of this connects to the Contractor? To Cipher? You’re sure?”

  “You know I don’t deal in guesses,” Nyx replied, shrugging faintly. “I cleaned the trails. His name was everywhere.” Her voice dropped. “Like he was the mind behind the whole operation.”

  Dot leaned forward, eyes fixed on the projection, but before she could see more, Nyx deactivated it. Not impulsively. Carefully. There was intention in the gesture. Protection, maybe.

  Dot’s voice came out softer.

  “You found all this... and waited until now to tell me. Why?”

  Nyx met her gaze this time. No deflection.

  “Because you still needed to survive. I knew about your mess with the artifact.” She gestured toward Dot’s arm with a slight tilt of her chin. A crooked half-smile formed. “And throwing more gunpowder at someone already at ignition point?”

  She paused.

  “But now… I can see you want to understand this. You want answers.”

  Silence lingered.

  Nyx’s smile tilted sideways, that same dry, crooked one she wore whenever the world felt like it was collapsing but she insisted she still had control.

  “And let’s be honest… knowing you, you wouldn’t turn down more fuel if it pointed you straight at Cipher.”

  Dot let out a short laugh. She studied Nyx carefully. Smaller than she looked at first glance. Thin enough to seem breakable.

  But there was something unyielding in those dark green eyes.

  It reminded her of herself.

  She straightened on the table, more solid now, a silent sign she accepted the explanation.

  “Alright,” she said firmly. “What else did you find?”

  Nyx hesitated. Her gaze drifted briefly, as if accessing hidden files only she could see.

  “Shrouded,” she said at last. “Not just how they’re made. How they’re… tuned.” A faint edge entered her voice. “And Cipher? Apparently enjoying the role of God.”

  Dot leaned forward slightly.

  “Cipher is creating Shrouded?”

  Nyx nodded once and for a moment, the silence between them felt heavier than the data itself.

  Dot moved closer, eyes locked on hers.

  “Show me everything. I need to see.”

  Nyx hesitated again. Her green eyes narrowed slightly, searching Dot for hesitation, doubt, fear.

  “You ready for all of it?”

  Dot held her gaze. For a second, she seemed to ask herself the same question. A humorless smile touched her lips.

  “Honestly? No. But I need to know anyway.”

  ? ? ?