The city above was dying quietly.
In the darkness of a broken service tunnel, Layla glimpsed the skyline of Sector 12 — once ablaze with life and light, now buried under flickering neon decay. Skyscrapers loomed like broken sentinels, their glass eyes broken from decades of neglect. Somewhere between them lay the vault buried beneath concrete and forgotten blood.
She adjusted her breathing mask. Air below had turned bitter — toxic from drone fumes and chemical sanitizing. Even the rats had withdrawn.
Aidan emerged from the access hatch behind her, rifle slung low on his hip, movements quiet.
"Scanners show this sector's on auto-monitor," he whispered. "That is, motion detectors are active, but no direct drone feed yet."
"But," she said again. "We have four minutes before the surveillance pulse restarts."
They started walking. Harun had stayed behind, offering that he'd be more useful deflecting signals from his bunker. Layla didn't argue. She didn't trust anyone else to reconnoitre the digital mines sprinkled through the black spots.
The deeper they went, the more earsplittingly quiet it was. No birdsong. No voices. Only the hum of unseen eyes watching from the emptiness.
Then — a gentle click beneath their feet.
Aidan froze. "Stop. Pressure plate."
Layla stiffened. She looked down. Her boot was inches from a metal trigger. One wrong step, and a turret would more than likely rip her head apart.
Aidan dropped to his knees, took hold of a skinny filament wire from his pocket, and began to feed it beneath her foot. Sweat broke out at his temple.
"Don't move," he clenched.
Layla held still. Not because she trusted him — but because her instincts told her he wasn't lying. He was too calm.
Click.
The wire shifted. Aidan twisted the filament around a tiny notch, then applied heat from a lighter. The mechanism hissed, then went silent.
"Okay," he whispered. "Step off — slowly."
She obeyed. The plate stayed dark.
Layla exhaled. "You done this before?"
"Twice. Lived both times. Third's uncharted territory."
They gained speed now, weaving through backstreets and careening under skeletal scaffolds. A siren wailed somewhere far away — and then nothing. Probably another patrol pursuing an elusive signal.
A few blocks down, they reached the periphery of the vault zone. A single gate loomed before them — gigantic, corroded, yet still charged. Green lights throbbed in a deliberate rhythm, ticking off something immaterial.
Aidan scanned the wall. "No camera feed. Just heartbeat sensors."
Layla's heart raced.
She reached into her coat pocket and took out the capsule that Harun had given her. It appeared harmless — a small, plain black pod about the size of a pebble.
"This is it," she stated.
She crushed it in her palm.
A ripple of cold air spread out — an electromagnetic tingle that made her teeth ache. The light on the wall flashed red, then died.
"Run!" Aidan shouted.
They ran out through the now-open gate, boots thudding shattered glass and crushed tiles. Each second became a stretch. Each gasp was a luxury.
Then — as they reached the inner vault door — a siren screamed into life behind them.
"They rebooted early!" Aidan bellowed.
Layla slammed her fist against the vault panel. Silence.
"No time for a scan," snarled Aidan. "Override it!"
She drew her dagger, sliced her palm, and smashed her bloody hand onto the interface. The console flashed once — then exploded bright red.
DNA confirmed.
The door lurched, cogs grinding, bolts withdrawing.
Then — a harsh buzz in her ear.
Layla, Harun's voice over comms. "You've got under sixty seconds. They've sent a Reaver."
Aidan cursed. "Of course they did."
The vault door creaked open — just a hair.
Aidan whirled around and brought up his rifle. "Get in there. I'll give you ten seconds."
"You're not getting left behind," Layla snarled.
"Don't argue. You must bond with the relic. That's all that matters now.".
But Layla was already moving. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him through the door with her.
"Then run and shoot," she snarled. "Because if you're killed now, I'll drag your ghost back and kill it again."
The vault door slammed shut just as the Reaver's shadow crossed the gate.
Silence inside.
The air was cooler here — ancient. The room was a dome of obsidian and flowing lava runes. In the middle was a pedestal. On it rested. nothing.
Layla walked towards it slowly. Her hand, dripping with blood, pulsed — as if summoning something.
Then the air shifted.
A form coalesced out of the void. Metal flowed. Liquid. Like a steel snake and smoke.
The relic.
It curled itself over the pedestal — alive, watching.
Layla inched closer.
"I am Layla binti Rayqal," she breathed. "Daughter of fire. Heir of the blood."
The relic faltered.
Then it surged forward — not to bite, but to enter.
Layla gasped as it marched into her chest, coalescing into light and heat and voice.
Memories swept — her father's laughter, her mother's scream, her own vow under a burning sky.
She did not fall.
She rose.
Eyes aflame. Veins burning with the fire of the old world.
Aidan gaped, amazed.
When she faced him, her voice was altered.
"I remember everything now," she whispered.
"Good," he said with a slight smile. "Because they're going to bring hell. And we'll need all of you to make it through."
To be continued.