The vibration beneath Bonita’s hand stopped.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The ancient pedestal remained illuminated, its blue veins of light slowly fading until only the eight concentric symbols at its centre remained visible.
Potter broke the silence.
“So…”
Nobody looked at him.
He cleared his throat.
“Are we supposed to do something now?”
Bonita shook her head.
“I don’t think it was waiting for us to do anything.”
“Then why did it activate?”
She looked at the pedestal again.
“Because we arrived.”
Potter frowned.
“That’s worse.”
Ron gave him a sideways glance.
“How is that worse?”
“Because if it needed us to press something, at least we would know what we did wrong.”
He pointed toward the ancient machinery.
“But if it activated because we’re here, then the station has been waiting for someone.”
Lane’s eyes remained fixed on the darkness beyond the chamber.
“Not someone.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Lane swallowed.
“Us.”
Aryaan didn’t answer.
He was staring at the same place.
The vision he’d just experienced was still fresh in his mind.
Oindri.
Rudraveer.
His parents.
All four of them had stood together in this very station.
Not as fugitives.
Not as prisoners.
As people who had known exactly what they were doing.
That realization hurt more than he expected.
For years, Aryaan had imagined his parents disappearing because something had gone terribly wrong.
Now he had seen something different.
They had been preparing.
Planning.
Leaving things behind.
And they had apparently known that one day their children would come looking.
Ron moved beside him.
“You saw Mom.”
Aryaan nodded.
“And Dad?”
“Both of them.”
Lane looked at Aryaan.
“What were they doing?”
“Working.”
“On what?”
Aryaan glanced at the pedestal.
“I don’t know.”
That answer frustrated Ron.
“Every time we get something, we get another question.”
Potter raised a finger.
“Technically, that’s how investigations work.”
Ron looked at him.
“You’re not helping.”
“I know.”
Bonita was still studying the pedestal.
She removed a small scanning device from her belt and ran it over the surface.
The device immediately shut down.
Bonita frowned.
She restarted it.
It shut down again.
“That’s new.”
Potter leaned over.
“Maybe the battery is dead.”
“It’s fully charged.”
“Maybe it doesn’t like the station.”
Bonita ignored him.
She placed her palm above the surface without touching it.
The symbols brightened.
Her eyes narrowed.
“There.”
“What?” Mitchell asked.
“The response.”
She moved her hand slowly across the pedestal.
The symbols brightened in sequence.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then stopped.
The fourth remained dark.
“The system isn’t recognizing all of us,” she said.
Aryaan looked at the eight symbols.
“Eight.”
Bonita nodded.
“Eight points.”
Ron looked around.
“There are eight of us.”
“Exactly.”
Potter stared at her.
“You’re not suggesting…”
“I’m not suggesting anything.”
She moved her hand again.
The first three symbols glowed brighter.
A fourth flickered.
Then died.
“The station isn’t identifying us individually.”
Bonita looked toward the central chamber.
“It’s identifying something we represent.”
A soft chime sounded.
A compartment opened beneath the pedestal.
Everyone froze.
Potter slowly stepped forward.
“Okay.”
He looked around.
“That definitely wasn’t there before.”
Inside was a small metallic cylinder.
It was about the length of a human forearm and covered in fine engraved lines.
Unlike the surrounding machinery, it showed no signs of age.
Bonita reached toward it.
Aryaan stopped her.
“Wait.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the problem.
His instincts were warning him, but there was no vision.
No voice.
Nothing.
Just a feeling that the cylinder mattered.
Bonita withdrew her hand.
Aryaan approached.
The moment his fingers touched the cylinder, the chamber changed.
The eight pillars lit up.
A low tone travelled through the room.
Then a projection appeared.
A woman stood before them.
Older than the woman Aryaan had seen in his vision.
But unmistakably Oindri.
Ron stopped breathing.
Lane’s expression softened.
The recording looked directly ahead.
It wasn’t a conventional hologram.
There was no projection grid.
No visible light source.
It seemed to be formed from the cylinder itself.
Oindri looked tired.
Not frightened.
Tired.
As if she had been carrying the weight of a decision for a very long time.
“Ron.”
His eyes widened.
She had addressed him directly.
“If you’re seeing this, then you’ve found the lower archive.” Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Ron whispered,
“Mom…”
Oindri continued.
“I don’t know how old you’ll be when you see this. I don’t know where you will be. I don’t know whether your father and I will still be able to reach you.”
She paused.
“But if this recording has activated, then you are old enough to know one thing.”
The projection shifted.
Behind her appeared a star map.
A familiar one.
Gaia.
Then the map pulled farther back.
The Milky Way appeared.
Then vanished.
Another galaxy replaced it.
The image continued expanding.
Layers appeared beyond ordinary space.
Not galaxies.
Lokas.
Fourteen immense fields of existence arranged around one another in a pattern that seemed mathematical and spiritual at the same time.
Potter stared.
“Those are…”
“Lokas,” Sia whispered.
Oindri’s recording continued.
“Humanity has spent centuries trying to map the universe as though space were the only thing separating worlds.”
The star map changed.
Gaia appeared again.
“This planet does not belong to your galaxy.”
Aryaan felt a chill.
“We know,” he whispered.
But Oindri continued.
“Nor does it belong to the same loka.”
The image of Gaia moved through the layered map.
“That is why conventional distance is meaningless when discussing it.”
A line appeared.
The distance between two points was displayed.
6.8 light-years.
Then the map changed.
Another connection appeared.
11.4 light-years.
Then another.
Unknown Loka Boundary.
Oindri looked directly ahead.
“Never assume that the shortest distance between two places is measured only in light-years.”
The recording ended.
The projection vanished.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Potter was the first to recover.
“So…”
He looked around.
“Your mother casually just destroyed everything I thought I understood about astronomy.”
Ron rubbed his face.
“She does that.”
Aryaan stared at the empty space where Oindri had been.
“She knew.”
“About Gaia?”
“About the Lokas.”
Sia looked thoughtful.
“Perhaps she knew more than that.”
Aryaan turned toward her.
“What do you mean?”
“She wasn’t explaining it to us.”
Sia looked at the cylinder.
“She was preparing us.”
A tremor shook the chamber.
This one was stronger.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Commander Voss immediately activated her communicator.
“Control, status.”
Static.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Bonita checked her wrist display.
“The station has isolated this section.”
“Can we override it?”
“Not from here.”
Potter looked toward the shaft.
“Then we should probably leave.”
A third tremor answered him.
The floor shifted.
Something metallic cracked in the distance.
Then the ancient station came alive.
Machines that had been silent for centuries began turning.
One by one.
A conveyor belt moved.
A crane rotated.
An industrial arm lifted.
A furnace opened.
Lights appeared across the enormous chamber.
Potter stared.
“This is officially above my preferred level of archaeological activity.”
Bonita didn’t answer.
She was watching the machines.
“They’re not malfunctioning.”
“That’s good, right?”
“No.”
She pointed toward the far wall.
“They’re all moving toward the same place.”
The machines formed a path.
A path leading deeper into the station.
Bonita’s eyes widened.
“The station is assembling something.”
“What?” Mitchell asked.
“I don’t know.”
A massive mechanical arm descended from the ceiling.
Its old plating separated.
Inside was a completely different mechanism.
Crystalline.
Organic-looking.
Covered in the same geometric patterns as the pedestal.
Bonita stepped forward.
“That’s Myth-Tech.”
Potter looked at her.
“You’ve identified it already?”
“No.”
She smiled faintly.
“I’m beginning to understand it.”
The distinction mattered.
She wasn’t merely recognizing the technology.
She was learning how it thought.
The machine extended a narrow crystalline filament.
It stopped in front of Bonita.
She hesitated.
Then touched it.
A pulse travelled through her arm.
She gasped.
For a moment she saw thousands of mechanisms.
Not machines.
Systems.
Each one connected to another.
Energy moving through resonance.
Information travelling through vibration.
Matter responding to consciousness.
She saw the station as a living structure.
Then the vision disappeared.
Bonita stumbled.
Mitchell caught her.
“What happened?”
She looked at him.
“I think…”
She looked toward the ancient machinery.
“…it showed me how it works.”
Riyansh moved toward her.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Headache?”
“A little.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re hurt.”
Bonita rolled her eyes.
“I’m fine.”
Riyansh sighed.
“Everyone says that until they collapse.”
Sia smiled.
“He’s right.”
Bonita looked between them.
“Are you two forming an alliance?”
“Yes,” Sia said.
“Against you.”
Bonita laughed.
For the first time since entering the chamber, the tension eased.
Then a sound echoed through the station.
A horn.
Deep.
Ancient.
Three notes.
Commander Voss went pale.
“What?”
Voss stared at her communicator.
“The outer sensors just came back.”
“And?”
She looked at them.
“We have ships.”
Mitchell’s expression sharpened.
“Whose?”
“Unknown.”
“How many?”
“Twenty-seven.”
Potter frowned.
“That’s a lot of unknown.”
Voss nodded.
“And they’re not broadcasting identification.”
The station’s external defenses activated.
Ancient turrets emerged from the outer hull.
The team exchanged glances.
Ron looked at Aryaan.
“Friends?”
Aryaan closed his eyes.
For a moment, he tried to see ahead.
Nothing.
Then—
A flash.
A ship exploding.
A corridor filled with smoke.
People running.
Someone shouting his name.
Aryaan opened his eyes.
“We’re under attack.”
The first impact hit Vanta-3.
The entire chamber shook.
Far above them, ships emerged from Fold space.
Their hulls carried no recognized insignia.
They looked like merchant vessels.
Cargo haulers.
Nothing threatening.
That was precisely what made Commander Voss uneasy.
“Why would pirates attack an industrial station?” Potter asked.
“They wouldn’t,” Voss replied.
“Then who are they?”
No one answered.
One of the ships transmitted a standard commercial distress signal.
Another requested docking clearance.
A third claimed to be carrying medical supplies.
Everything appeared legitimate.
Too legitimate.
Lane stepped toward the display.
The mist appeared around him.
He stared at the incoming ships.
“They’re hiding something.”
Voss looked at him.
“Which one?”
Lane shook his head.
“All of them.”
One of the ships transmitted again.
This time, the image was clear.
A man appeared.
Human.
Middle-aged.
Professional.
He wore the uniform of a respected interstellar trading corporation.
His expression was calm.
“Commander Voss, we are here to assist.”
Potter looked at the screen.
“That sounds reassuring.”
Lane didn’t move.
The mist around him thickened.
He could see something behind the man’s image.
A second outline.
Only for a moment.
Something enormous.
Something with a shape that didn’t belong to a human body.
Then it disappeared.
Lane’s face hardened.
“Don’t let them dock.”
Voss looked at him.
“Why?”
Lane stared at the screen.
“I don’t know.”
The man on the transmission smiled.
And for the briefest fraction of a second— his eyes changed.
Not human.
Not Dracodian.
Not anything Lane recognized.
Then they were normal again.
The transmission ended.
Lane whispered,
“Because something is wrong with them.”
On another continent of Gaia, thousands of light-years away—or perhaps only a step across the boundary between Lokas—a young Dracodian warrior stood on a mountain overlooking a city.
His name was Valerian Dragonkin.
He was not yet a Guardian.
He was not yet immortal.
He was simply a warrior.
A good one.
Disciplined.
Proud.
Young enough to believe that honor was enough to protect the people he loved.
A communication crystal in his hand began to glow.
Valerian looked at it.
A message appeared.
VANTA-3 HAS AWAKENED.
His expression changed.
He looked toward the stars.
Something was coming.
And somewhere far beyond Gaia, something else had already begun moving.
Back on Vanta-3, Bonita stared at the incoming ships.
Her Myth-Tech interface suddenly activated.
A series of symbols appeared across her wrist.
She read them slowly.
“There’s a resonance mismatch.”
Potter looked at her.
“Meaning?”
Bonita’s face became serious.
“Those ships are carrying something.”
“What?”
She looked toward the transmission screen.
“I don’t know.”
A pause.
Then she added:
“But whatever it is…”
The lights in the chamber flickered.
“…the station recognizes it.”
Behind them, one of the eight ancient pillars turned.
And for the first time— the eighth symbol began to glow.