The shaft Helia guided Nero into was narrow enough that both of them had to crouch, shoulders nearly brushing the walls. The metal was cold under Nero's palms, so cold that it felt like it had been untouched for years. The faint pulse of distant machinery echoed through the ducts—a steady thrum that made Nero's bones vibrate.
Helia crawled ahead of him, quiet, focused, the glow of her baton guiding the way. Nero observed the tension in her movements—the slight stiffness in her shoulders, the careful control in her breathing. She was worried even terrified. But she still moved with precision.
Nero admired her for that.
He swallowed hard. "Helia… the imprint—"
She froze.
Not dramatically.Not visibly flinching.
She simply stopped crawling, shoulders locking into place.
The silence stretched.
Then she turned her head slightly, just enough for her profile to be outlined in the faint blue glow.
"Nero," she said softly, "not here."
Nero's chest tightened. "Why?"
"Because this is not the place to discuss truths that might break you from inside."
Her voice carried a calmness, he didn't trust that—too controlled, too careful.
"Helia," he said, reaching forward to touch her arm, "don't treat me like I'll shatter."
She hesitated.
Her lips parted—but instead of answering, she looked away and continued crawling. Nero followed her.
They reached a vertical section where a grated wall overlooked the corridor below. Helia held up a hand sharply.
"Wait."
Voices drifted up through the grate.
Boots pounded against the metal flooring. Nero recognized the sound—coordinated, organized footsteps. Not corrupted units.
Humans.
Uniformed Archive Security.
A mechanical drone whirred beside them, scanning the hallway.
"Team Alpha-3 reporting," a crisp voice said."No visual on the Continuator."
Another voice crackled over the comms:
"Remember your orders.Locate the Continuator.Do not neutralize.Contain and return to the Architect."
Nero felt something cold crawl down his spine.
Contain.Return.
Helia's jaw clenched so hard he could hear the tiny click of her teeth.
Nero whispered, "I think they're looking for me specifically."
She gave a slow nod.
The officer below continued:
"You are authorized to use all restraint protocols. The prototype must be brought back in a functioning state."
"Prototype". Nero whispered
Helia reached back and gripped Nero's wrist gently, squeezing once—an anchor.
The officers walked away, their voices fading until only the sound of the drone remained. When they were finally gone, Helia exhaled a long, slow breath.
"Helia," Nero whispered, "what are they trying to do to me?"
Helia didn't answer.
Not immediately.
She gestured for him to follow as she moved toward a quieter section of the duct. Once they were far enough, she stopped in a small chamber where the metal floor was flat.
Nero stood opposite her, the glow of her baton flickering across her face.
She still hadn't looked at him.
"Helia," he said more firmly, "I saw your face in the memory room. You recognized something. You knew what the imprint meant."
Her eyes finally lifted.
And Nero wished he'd never asked.
Because the sadness there was carved deep. Too deep.
"Nero," she said, "imprinting is… not casual. It's not like forming a memory with a caregiver or a friend."
He swallowed. "Then what is it?"
"It is a bond," she said quietly, "formed during early memory development. It creates a baseline. A core emotional anchor."
Nero's breath caught."An anchor?"
She nodded. "Someone you trusted. Someone whose presence defined safety for you… before something cut them out."
Cut. Erased. Removed.
"Who?" Nero whispered. "Who was it?"
Her gaze dropped.
"Helia, tell me."
"I can't."
"You won't," Nero corrected, anger creeping into his voice. "That's different."
Helia's breath hitched.Just barely.
Nero stepped closer. "Why are you hiding this from me?"
"Because if you learn too quickly—"
He cut her off. "You mean if I learn what the Architect did to me."
She flinched.
Nero saw it—the guilt she'd been trying to hide.
"Helia," he said softly, "did you know?"
"Not everything," she whispered. "Not enough to protect you. But too much to pretend ignorance."
That hurt.
A lot.
Nero took a step back, heart pounding. "How long?"
Helia shook her head. "Nero—"
"How long have you known I wasn't… normal?"
"Since the day I met you," she said quietly. "You're too precisely structured. Too perfectly synchronized. Too stable."
Nero stared.
"Stable?" he echoed.
She nodded. "Most children with a Veyra core embedded at infancy die within the first year. Their minds collapse under the stress and strain it had on their brain. Their emotions overload the system."
Prototype 11's recording flashed in Nero's memory.
"I don't want to— I don't want to—"
Nero's hands trembled.
Helia reached for him instinctively.
He stepped away.
"Tell me the truth," Nero whispered, voice breaking. "How many prototypes came before me?"
Helia's lips parted—but something made her freeze again. Her eyes widened.
A metallic click echoed behind Nero.
Then a harsh blast of white light flooded the vent.
Helia grabbed Nero and pulled him down.
A spotlight burned through the grate, scanning the chamber.
An Archive drone hovered outside the vent opening—sleek, black, equipped with restraint clamps.
Nero's heart lurched.
The drone broadcasted a command:
"Subject located.Alerting Architect.Continuator restored to detection range."
Helia swore violently and shoved Nero down the shaft."Go—GO!"
The drone fired.
A bolt of white energy ripped through the grate, scorching metal and sending sparks showering over them. Helia pushed Nero ahead, shielding his back.
The duct shook violently as the drone rammed into it, ripping open the metal wall.
More voices echoed nearby:
"THIS WAY!The Continuator signature is confirmed!"
Helia slid down the vertical passage, dragging Nero after her. Air whipped past them. The shaft narrowed dangerously.
Below them—
A maintenance corridor opened.
They fell through.
Helia twisted mid-air, using her momentum to land on a pipe, grabbing Nero's arm and pulling him to crash safely beside her.
The drone shot down after them.
Helia yanked Nero behind a support pillar.
The drone scanned the room.
"Nero," she whispered, breathless, "the dampener—check it."
Nero looked at the patch on his neck.It flickered weakly—barely active.
"The Architect's signal is overriding it!" Nero whispered.
Helia's expression hardened. "Then we do this the hard way."
She grabbed Nero's hand.
They bolted through the corridor, alarms blaring behind them.
Security forces charged from the left meanwhile drones from the right side. A containment squad from ahead.
The Archive units and drone surrounded them.
Helia squeezed Nero's hand.
"Run with me."
And Nero did.
Because despite everything she hid, every truth she couldn't say, every problems between them—
She was still the only person fighting to keep him alive.