"THE THING THAT ARRIVED"
Morning moves through Solara HQ without asking permission.
The café is already alive—heat vents sighing open, automated arms sliding trays into place, human hands correcting them out of habit rather than thought. Security shifts rotate at the doors, armor plates locking and releasing with practiced precision.
Rose enters quietly.
She takes something simple.
An apple-like fruit.
Water.
A protein bar.
No comfort food.
Discipline has shaped her body as surely as hunger ever tried to.
She sits alone at a booth near the wall, where she can see the exits. She prefers it that way.
She eats slowly.
Then—
Warmth.
Cassidy Firewell enters first, bandaged hand visible, posture loose but eyes sharp. She's talking—fast, animated.
Allium follows.
He studies the room like it's a puzzle: how people lean toward each other when speaking, how laughter follows sharp words, how food disappears without ceremony.
Rose watches him.
Hunger does not touch him the way it touches her.
Cassidy spots Rose and elbows Allium.
He waves awkwardly.
Rose returns it—then looks back down.
Plop.
Cassidy drops into the booth across from her, tray already full.
"What's up, frostbite? How was training?"
"It was adequate," Rose replies.
Cassidy eats like she hasn't had time to think about it.
"Why do you sit here?" Rose asks.
"Why not?" Cassidy shrugs. "Also, Allium noticed you were awake and insisted."
Right on cue, Allium appears—arms full of donuts like a dragon guarding treasure.
"They again," he says seriously, "have them donuts."
Cassidy laughs. "Yeah, they do. You really like donuts, huh?"
Allium nods and hands one to each of them.
Cassidy thanks him.
Rose pushes hers back. "No thank you."
He places it there anyway.
"Them is good," he insists. "They taste fine. Trust me. I know."
"That's not what she means," Cassidy says. "She's on a diet."
Allium tilts his head. "What is there to lose?"
"Not lose," Rose says. "Maintain."
He accepts this but doesn't take the donut away.
Then—
He stills.
Too many signals.
Too much overlap.
"Allium?" Rose asks.
"Yes," he says. "I thought I felt something."
Cassidy frowns. "Varos?"
"No," Allium replies. "But it felt familiar."
Before more can be said, Weaver enters the café.
"There you are."
His eyes flick to the donuts, then to Cassidy.
"How does your hand feel?"
"Still numb," Cassidy says. "Still attached."
Weaver nods, then turns to Rose.
"I am sorry for last night. Are you okay now?"
"I'm better today," Rose replies. "It's alright."
Weaver gestures to Allium.
"Keeper. Lyra would like to speak with you."
As they walk, Allium's gaze drifts again.
"It feels close," he says quietly.
⸻
Lyra's office sits in a quieter wing of HQ.
Modern walls, ancient intent.
Relics line the shelves. Subtle carvings interrupt smooth panels. The air hums faintly, layered with old resonance.
Lyra looks up from her console.
"Keeper," she says gently. "How are you today?"
"I'm fine," Allium answers simply.
She studies him.
"Last we spoke, you said your Nexon connection felt frayed. Does it feel the same?"
Allium nods.
Lyra speaks calmly. "As an embodiment of the tri-energies, I would suggest limited use of them for now."
Allium frowns slightly. "I understand my connection. But why would one misalignment affect me so greatly?"
"You cannot balance two alone," Lyra replies. "All three must work together."
Allium looks at his hands.
"Normally my enemies focus on kinetic force," he says. "I have not crossed one that affects my connection directly."
A pause.
"Most threats fall easily. It is rare that I feel pain."
Weaver hears it.
Not as a creator.
As a man hearing another admit vulnerability.
"It appears Varos and Kyros are connected through Nexon," Weaver says. "Allowing interference through the ley."
Lyra nods. "According to reports, Kyros made Varos?"
"Yes," Weaver replies. "To counter Allium. Their coordination has elevated him."
Lyra tilts her head. "If their connection strengthens them… what of yours, Weaver?"
"What are you suggesting?" he asks.
"You and Allium are not truly connected," Lyra says. "You speak in titles. Not names."
Weaver looks at Allium.
Then back at Lyra.
"You believe this affects him?"
Lyra nods. "It would not fix Nexon—but it would help."
Allium speaks plainly. "I do not feel affected by that."
"I am not saying you would notice," Lyra replies. "Connection works quietly."
She offers a simple instruction.
"Try this. Weaver—call him Allium. Not Balance Keeper. And Allium—listen when he speaks. Do not assume judgment."
Allium nods.
Weaver hesitates—then inclines his head.
They leave.
⸻
Lyra remains alone.
The room feels… close.
She stands, touches the wall, then looks up.
The ceiling panels are not perfect.
Tiny punctures.
She exhales.
Fatigue, she thinks.
Then—
She freezes.
Her eyes drain of color.
Her head slumps slightly.
No scream.
Just a faint clicking sound.
Many legs.
Then nothing.
⸻
Something has crossed into their existence.
It did not announce itself.
It did not arrive violently.
It simply is.
And no one saw it come.
END EPISODE 10