The Span didn't sleep—
but it did hold its breath sometimes.
Twelve hours after the Manifold Heart ruptured, Ø7 stood in the shadow of the CAD substation, rain carving bright lines down the glass. Morning traffic hissed on the elevated roads above. Advertisements flickered across the Crown towers, selling salvation programs and synthetic intimacy.
None of it reached Arden.
Not after what he'd seen under the city.
The collar at his throat hummed softly, as if whispering to itself.
[VARIABLE ZERO — SIGNAL RESIDUE: ACTIVE.]
[HEARTLINE TRACE: SUBSURFACE.]
He ignored it.
Kai sat on the steps near the loading zone, elbows on knees, staring at the cask between his boots. The metal box pulsed—slow, faint.
Like something inside it had lungs.
Seraphine leaned against a pillar, arms folded, still wearing someone else's jacket because rustwater had eaten through hers. Her hair was damp, curling at the ends. She had cleaned her boots three times and still glared at them as if they'd betrayed her.
Lyra stood near the window, face turned toward the rain as if listening again for the heartline's whisper. Even after a shower and med-check, faint light still flickered in her veins like residual code.
And Darius—
Darius was silent.
He hadn't said more than ten words since they climbed out of the sewer. He stood against the far wall, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on nothing.
The air around him felt… brittle.
Arden's own ribs still ached from the collapse of the Manifold Heart, but he tried not to roll his shoulders or wince. The team mirrored him. He mirrored the team.
Act like nothing broke.
Even if something had.
The door hissed open.
A CAD handler stepped in—Directorate uniform, slate-grey raincoat, posture like a man trying not to smell something rotten.
"Unit Ø7," he said. "Report to briefing bay. Immediate redeployment."
Kai groaned into his hands.
"You're kidding," he muttered. "We haven't even slept."
"You're Dogs," the handler said, voice flat. "You don't sleep. You charge."
Seraphine snorted. "Tell that to my quadriceps."
Arden glanced at Darius.
Nothing.
He straightened.
"Let's go," Arden said.
Kai scooped up the cask like a bomb. Lyra drifted behind him. Seraphine shoulder-checked the doorframe just because she could.
Darius followed last, moving like a man with a storm inside him.
The collar at Arden's throat pulsed once.
He didn't like the timing.
The room smelled like disinfectant and high tension.
Silex waited on the central dais, standing over a holographic projection of the Substrate slums. His collar glowed a higher administrative blue.
When Ø7 entered, he didn't greet them. He simply gestured at the projection.
"The Rust Saints have consolidated," Silex said. "We intercepted chatter suggesting leadership regrouped in an abandoned drainage church. A sanctuary."
"Sanctuary?" Seraphine said. "Cute."
"It is not cute," Silex said. "It is inconvenient."
Kai scrolled a datasheet. "Coordinates line up with a condemned storm chapel from pre-dome construction. Old civic architecture. Lots of drains. Lots of places to hide."
"And lots of places to burn," Seraphine said.
Silex pointed.
"This is the target."
The holo zoomed in—an oval chamber, half-flooded, half-collapsed, with a central altar made of rusted metal. Figures gathered in clusters. Icons. Scrap halos. Binding cables.
Arden went still.
One symbol appeared repeatedly:
A circle with three slashes.
The symbol carved into the rust wall after the Heart died.
The symbol that pulsed under Lyra's skin.
"Recognition?" Silex asked.
Arden didn't answer.
Kai did.
"It's the heartline spiral," Kai said. "With a fracture."
Silex nodded. "Correct."
Darius's voice came low. "You want us to clear them."
"Yes," Silex said. "Lethal force authorized. But the priority is this—"
A small holographic sphere materialized above the dais: a cracked servo-core, glowing faintly.
"The Rust Saints stole Judiciary hardware," Silex said. "Someone supplied them with leash components."
Arden felt his stomach drop.
"And you want us to find the leak," he said.
"Precisely."
Lyra looked up. "You think they will know?"
"They will know who gave it to them," Silex said. "They will know how. They will know why. We need that information."
He looked at Arden.
"Your presence," Silex said, "may encourage them to talk."
Arden stiffened. "Because of the 'saint' thing."
"Because your glitch has grown into a meme," Silex said. "They see you as an omen. Use that."
Arden hated how calmly Silex said it.
He hated that it wasn't wrong.
Kai muttered, "Saint Static strikes again."
Seraphine elbowed him.
Silex continued.
"Darius will lead breach. Seraphine flanks. Kai and Lyra follow Arden." His gaze sharpened. "Reik. You will be point."
Arden blinked. "Why?"
Silex's tone didn't change.
"Their doctrine acknowledges you," Silex said. "They may hesitate before opening fire. Darius, on the other hand, inspires… less hesitation."
Darius didn't react.
At all.
That, more than anything, made Arden uneasy.
Seraphine cleared her throat.
"And if they don't hesitate?" she asked.
Silex smiled faintly.
"Then," he said, "we test the Machine's mercy."
Arden frowned. "Define mercy."
"That," Silex said, "is up to you."
The collar against Arden's throat cooled.
He didn't like the timing.
The route to the drainage chapel began through a corrosion shaft, tight enough that Darius had to turn sideways.
The smell hit them first—mold, old incense, industrial coolant, rust.
Kai gagged behind the cask. "This is disgusting."
"Don't breathe," Seraphine said.
The tunnel widened into a broken access hall, draped with hanging wires like wet vines.
Lyra whispered, "They're singing."
Arden held up a fist—halt.
Listening.
There, beneath the dripping—
A whisper.
A murmur.
A cadence.
Not the litany from before.
Something older.
More structured.
"…mercy without memory…
…pain without order…
…heart without cage…"
Arden's collar thrummed.
Kai whispered, "Memetic hazard level?"
"Narrowband," Lyra said. "Low amplitude. Just a chant. But it's built from Architect syntax."
"Fantastic," Seraphine muttered.
They reached the end of the hall.
A wide metal door stood cracked open—rusted, warped, covered in symbols. Arden recognized some from Chapter 17's heartline mandala. Others were new—proto-lattice diagrams, execution flowcharts mangled into iconography.
Darius stepped ahead.
"Reik," he said quietly. "Your show."
Arden exhaled.
He pushed the door open.
The chapel was a wound.
A cavernous storm-drain dome repurposed into a cathedral of rust. Water dripped from the curved ceiling, running down the walls in streaks. Old benches made of scavenged plating lined the sides. The air shimmered with chemical humidity and candle-smoke made from burning insulation.
Dozens of Rust Saints knelt facing the altar.
The altar itself was a monstrosity—an inverted maintenance rack welded into a cruciform shape, hung with broken collar brackets. At its center was a man.
Crohn.
Wrapped in cables.
Eyes unfocused.
Skin streaked with rust-dust.
Mouth murmuring.
"You shouldn't be alive," Arden whispered.
Lyra shook her head. "They reanimated him with signal. He's half-awake, half in the heartline."
Crohn's head lifted.
"Variable Zero," he rasped.
The kneeling Saints stirred.
Some gasped.
Some crossed themselves with oily fingers.
Some whispered Arden's name as if it were a prayer.
Arden froze.
This was why Silex sent him first.
The Saints parted like a sea, giving Arden a clear path to the altar.
Darius inhaled—sharp.
Something cracked inside him at the sight.
Arden felt it, a shift in the air.
A pressure.
Seraphine sensed it too—she stepped closer to Darius, hand near her weapon.
Arden walked toward Crohn.
"Who gave you Judiciary tech?" he asked.
Crohn wheezed a laugh.
"You already know," he said. "Everyone knows. The leash leaks from the top."
"Names," Arden said. "We need names."
Crohn didn't answer.
Instead—
He lowered his gaze to Arden's collar.
"Pain makes prophets," Crohn murmured. "Screams make scripture. You're our bridge."
Arden exhaled, slow.
"Don't make me shoot you," Arden said softly. "I'm trying to give you a chance."
Crohn's smile cracked like dried clay.
"You don't bring chance," Crohn whispered. "You bring mercy."
Arden frowned.
"What mercy?" he asked.
Crohn lifted his head, eyes rolling white for a moment.
"The kind that kills clean."
Everything in Arden's body snapped to warning.
Then—
The Saints behind Arden rose.
Their chanting sharpened.
The chapel lights flickered.
And Darius—
Darius exhaled in a shudder.
Arden turned.
Darius stood trembling, hands clenched, eyes wide as if trying to see through smoke that wasn't there.
His collar flickered.
Not glowing.
Not steady.
Flickering.
Shadow Host flickering.
Arden moved.
"Darius," he said, low. "Stay with me."
Darius's jaw tightened.
Then he whispered—
"Too late."
The Shadow Host hit him.
It wasn't transformation.
It wasn't possession.
It was release.
A dam breaking.
Darius's body moved before anyone processed it—he lunged forward with preternatural speed, seizing the nearest Saint by the throat and slamming him into the wall hard enough to crack bone.
The other Saints screamed.
Seraphine shouted, "DARIUS!"
Kai stumbled back, grip tightening on the cask.
Lyra flinched as if struck.
Arden stepped between Darius and the congregation.
"Darius!" Arden roared. "Stop!"
But Darius didn't see him.
He saw enemies.
Targets.
Echoes of his past.
Ghosts he hadn't killed yet.
The Shadow Host rage poured through him like black static.
He swung toward another kneeling Saint—even one who had his hands raised, shaking, pleading.
Darius didn't hesitate.
Arden didn't think.
He lunged.
His shoulder hit Darius's ribs, driving him back a step. It was like tackling a machine. Pain flared through Arden's arm.
"Darius!" Arden shouted. "Look at me!"
Darius snarled.
Actually snarled.
His fist came up—Arden blocked with his forearm, pain screaming up bone. Darius swung again—Arden ducked—Darius slammed him backward toward the altar.
Seraphine drew her blade and moved—
"No!" Arden barked. "Non-lethal!"
"Non-lethal? He's homicidal!" she shouted.
"He's still Darius!" Arden roared.
A Saint tried to run past.
Darius snatched him with terrifying speed and—
Arden lunged, catching Darius's arm mid-swing.
Their collars sparked as they clashed—an electrical snap that seared Arden's neck and made Darius reel.
For a blink—
A fraction—
Darius's eyes cleared.
"Arden…?"
Arden grabbed his face with both hands.
"Hey," Arden said, breath ragged. "Hey. Come back. Come back to me."
For a moment, Darius looked like himself.
Then—
A litany in the chamber changed.
Crohn's voice rose behind them.
"Shadow, show us mercy.
Mercy without memory.
Mercy without cage."
Darius convulsed.
The Host surged.
"No," Arden breathed. "No, no—Kai, shut him up!"
Kai slammed his boot into the altar console, sparks flying. Crohn's voice faltered, then choked.
But the damage was done.
Darius roared and threw Arden across the floor.
Arden hit the ground hard, ribs shrieking. He rolled just as Darius's boot slammed where his head had been a heartbeat earlier.
Saints scattered.
Some attacked Darius in panic.
He broke them like brittle sticks.
Seraphine slashed Darius's thigh—non-lethal, shallow.
He didn't react.
"Lyra!" Arden shouted. "Get out of here!"
"No," Lyra said, voice shaking. "I can calm him—"
"No you can't!" Arden snapped. "Move!"
Kai dropped the cask and launched himself at Darius's back—hack knife ready—to jam into the collar port.
Darius backhanded Kai so hard he hit a pew and went limp.
"KA—!"
Arden didn't have time to finish the name.
Darius turned on him.
Shadow Host rage radiated from him in waves.
Arden lifted his hands.
"Okay," he breathed. "Okay. Come on, brother."
Darius lunged.
Arden dodged right—barely—Darius's fist hitting a steel bench so hard it cracked.
Then Arden did the only thing he could think of.
He wrapped his arms around Darius's torso and held on.
Held him like restraining a wounded animal.
Held him like anchoring someone in a storm.
Held him like he meant it.
"Darius," Arden whispered, voice cracking. "Please. Stop. You're hurting people."
Darius thrashed.
Slammed Arden against a pillar.
Headbutted him hard enough to split skin.
Still Arden held on.
"Darius," he whispered, forehead against Darius's chest. "Please come back. Come back to us. Come back to me."
Darius froze.
A strangled sound tore from his throat.
"Arden…"
The Shadow Host flickered.
Flickered.
Then—
Snapped.
Darius collapsed—dead weight—taking Arden down with him.
Arden hit the floor hard, Darius half sprawled across him.
Silence fell.
Broken only by sobbing Saints… and Seraphine's ragged breath.
Kai sat against the pew, dazed.
Lyra knelt beside them, placing trembling fingertips on Arden's cheek.
"You stopped him," she whispered.
Arden wrapped an arm weakly around Darius's shoulders.
"No," Arden said softly. "He stopped himself."
Silex entered five minutes later with a CAD extraction team.
He assessed the bodies.
He assessed the altar.
He assessed Darius barely conscious against Arden's chest.
Then he shook his head.
"Well," Silex said. "That's… dramatic."
Seraphine raised her blade.
"Say one more thing like that," she said, "and I'll make you dramatic."
Silex ignored her.
He knelt by Darius, examining the flickering collar.
"I warned you," Silex said. "The Shadow Host imprint is unstable. He's dangerous."
"He's alive," Arden said. "And he's ours."
"And ours to discipline," Silex said coolly. "He attacked civilians. Your entire unit is now under review."
Arden's jaw flexed.
"Those civilians were chanting Architect liturgy," Arden said. "They were compromised."
"Compromised people are still people," Silex said. "The Machine expects precise obedience."
Arden barked a laugh.
"That's rich," Arden said. "Considering the Machine is the one leaking commands into the sewers."
Silex's eyes narrowed.
"Careful, Reik," Silex said. "Your leash is fraying."
Arden stood—slowly, painfully—and stepped between Silex and Darius.
"Then patch it," Arden said. "Or choke on it."
Seraphine's eyebrows shot up.
Kai mouthed holy shit.
Lyra actually took a step back.
Silex said nothing.
A long moment.
Then:
"Extraction team," Silex said. "Recover the survivors. Secure the altar. Collars to full recalibration. Ø7, return to base for debrief."
He turned away.
Arden crouched beside Darius.
Darius's eyes opened.
Shame flickered in them.
Fear.
Self-loathing.
Arden touched his forehead gently.
"You came back," Arden whispered.
Darius swallowed.
"I'm still here," Darius said hoarsely. "For now."
Arden nodded once.
"Then we fix the rest," he said.
Darius let out a shaking breath.
"Saint's mercy," he murmured.
Arden looked at the shattered altar.
"No," he said quietly. "Just ours."