The corridor narrowed the deeper they ran, until the walls pressed in so tightly Nero felt like the entire Archive was trying to swallow them. Helia's grip on his arm didn't loosen—not until they reached a branching junction with three identical paths.
Helia stopped suddenly.
Nero nearly collided into her.
"Three ways.Which one?" he panted.
"None," she whispered.
He frowned. "What do you—"
"Quiet."
She let go of his arm and knelt, touching the floor with two fingers. Her eyes narrowed. The dust patterns were wrong—scattered in strange arcs, as if something huge had been dragged through recently.
The drone's message echoed between them.
RUN.
Nero looked down each corridor. The lights flickered in different rhythms, pulsing faintly. Something moved in the metal—like the Archive was exhaling, waiting to see which path they'd choose.
Helia rose. "We're not walking into a direction the Archive offers."
Nero blinked. "Then where—?"
She pointed upward.
Nero followed her finger. Above them, a cracked maintenance hatch clung to the ceiling by a single bolt. Dust rained down with each flicker of the lights.
"We go up," she said.
Nero stared. "Are you sure? That thing looks like it'll fall apart any moment."
Helia's mouth twitched—maybe almost a smile, or maybe he imagined it. "Good. If it falls apart, the Archive won't think anyone climbed it."
She pushed Nero forward. "Boost me."
He laced his fingers and lifted. Helia vaulted up smoothly, catching the metal with both hands. The hatch screeched in protest, but she didn't hesitate. She shoved it open and pulled herself through.
"Your turn," she whispered down.
Nero jumped, caught the hatch edge, and Helia grabbed his wrist—gripping tighter than necessary. She pulled him up with surprising strength.
The hatch clanged shut beneath them.
They were inside a narrow maintenance crawlspace—barely tall but enough to crouch in.
Helia moved ahead on knees and elbows, her silhouette framed by the faint blue glow leaking from below.
Nero followed in silence, listening to their breaths filling the narrow space.
After a few minutes, he whispered, "Helia?"
She didn't stop, but her tone softened. "Hm?"
"That drone… do you think someone sent it?"
Helia's crawling slowed for a beat. "Maybe."
"But who?" Nero pressed. "A survivor? A rebel? Another prototype? The echo?"
She resumed crawling. "It doesn't matter who. What matters is why."
Nero swallowed. "Why, then?"
"To warn you."
"About what?"
Her voice was quiet.
"About what's coming."
Nero felt a cold knot tighten in his chest.
They continued crawling until Helia pushed open another loose panel. Warm light spilled into the crawlspace. She motioned for Nero to follow.
He slid out after her—and froze.
They were in a massive circular chamber, unlike anything they'd seen so far. The walls curved upward, covered in holographic lines of damaged code flickering in teal and white. The ceiling hummed with soft energy, casting a gentle glow through the room.
It didn't look abandoned.It didn't look broken.
It looked… forgotten.
Helia's eyes widened. "This isn't on any map."
Nero stepped forward, mesmerized. Panels of glassy material circled the chamber, each displaying faint, ghostly shapes—moving figures, blurred faces, fractured silhouettes.
"What is this place?" he whispered.
Helia exhaled. "Sector L-0."
"You know it?"
"No," she said. "That's the problem. I've only heard whispers. The rebels called it the Sector That Shouldn't Exist."
Nero's eyes drifted to one of the glass panels. A small child's face flickered there—distorted, fading in and out, eyes wide with fear.
Prototype Eleven.
His heart clenched.
All around the room, similar echoes flared and vanished—tiny fragments of people who no longer existed in this timeline.
The prototypes.
Nero's throat tightened. "Helia… this… this is them."
She didn't deny it.
Instead, she walked to the panel showing Prototype Eleven. She lifted her hand as if to touch it, then stopped just before making contact—her fingers trembling.
"I used to escort failed prototypes to reset chambers," she whispered. "I thought they vanished because the Architect erased their data."
She shook her head, jaw tight.
"I never imagined their timelines lived on as fragments."
Nero stepped closer. "You didn't know."
"I didn't want to know."
It was the first time he'd heard pure guilt in her voice.
He opened his mouth to speak—but the light in the room shifted suddenly, like ripples across water. Nero instinctively stepped back.
Helia grabbed her weapon, body tense.
"What now?" she muttered.
A soft hum rose from the center of the chamber. A pillar of light materialized, swirling with static.
Nero squinted.
Then froze.
A blurred silhouette formed inside the light—tall, broad-shouldered, its edges glitching with every pulse.
Not the Architect.Not a prototype.Not a machine.
Something… else.
Nero's skin prickled.
Helia whispered, "Back up."
He didn't move.
Because the figure lifted its head—slowly, as though waking from a deep sleep—and even through the distortion, Nero felt a jolt of familiarity in his chest.
A feeling he didn't have words for.A feeling that hurt.A feeling that warmed and chilled him at once.
"Nero…" Helia warned.
But he stepped forward.
The figure's face remained blurred—like the Archive was actively hiding it—but its voice cut through the distortion like a blade.
"You survived."
Nero's breath hitched.
He knew that voice.Somewhere deep inside him—buried under erased memories.
Helia stepped between them, weapon raised. "Identify yourself."
The figure ignored her.
"Prototype Twelve," it said softly, almost with emotion."I told you… if anything went wrong… follow the echoes."
Nero's heart hammered against his ribs.
"I… I know you," he whispered.
The figure flickered violently, its form destabilizing.
"You will," it said. "Soon."
Helia glanced at Nero sharply. "Nero, step back. Something's wrong with the energy levels."
But Nero couldn't move.
"Who are you?" he breathed.
The figure's hand lifted, glitching at the edges—almost reaching toward him.
"Find me before the Architect does."
The chamber lights exploded in a burst of white.
Helia tackled Nero to the ground as a shockwave rippled through the room. Panels shattered. Echoes screamed before dissolving into streams of light.
The figure disintegrated.
The energy pillar cracked apart, spiraling into nothingness.
Silence fell.
Helia's breathing was ragged. "Nero… what the hell was that?"
Nero stared at the fading particles drifting down around them like dust.
"I don't know," he whispered.
But the ache in his chest told him the truth.
He'd known that voicebefore the memory wipebefore the podbefore the Archive.
Before everything.
Someone important.
Someone the Archive erased on purpose.
Someone the Architect feared Nero remembering.
Helia grabbed his shoulder, grounding him. "Nero. Hey. Stay with me. Don't disconnect."
He nodded, but his eyes stayed fixed on the spot where the figure had stood.
Helia followed his gaze, frowning. "He said… find him."
Nero finally looked at her—eyes steady, a rare clarity settling over him.
"We will."
Helia didn't argue.
Because she'd seen Nero's face change.Not with fear.Not with confusion.
But with purpose.
Something the Archive was never designed to handle.
The chamber's lights flickered once—then died completely.
And in the pitch-darkness, Nero whispered:
"I think I know why the Archive wants me erased."
Helia didn't ask.
Because deep down, she already knew.