The chamber had gone still. Not silent—but charged. Julius could feel the air shift as the tank's dormant contents stirred.
Vara knelt by the control panel, fingers dancing across aged holo-keys. "Seraphel's core is unstable. I've tried a dozen jumpstarts, but each time it triggers defense protocols. She doesn't recognize me anymore. Too much of her memory is fragmented."
"That's where I come in," Echelon said. "Our architecture shares origin code. I may be able to bridge the gap."
Julius stepped forward. "What do you need me to do?"
"Make contact."
The symbiote moved across his arm like quicksilver, flowing out from beneath the armor. A narrow tendril formed—threading its way toward the interface port at the base of the tank. Brinley watched, hand resting on her blaster. Vara stood rigid, eyes fixed on the core.
The tendril touched metal.
And the room screamed.
The lights flared and dimmed. The core lit up in sickly pulses, thrumming with wild energy. A surge of fragmented voices echoed through the station's comm system—distorted, broken, crying out across time.
"Identity breach. Host unknown. Access denied."
Julius staggered back as a feedback loop stabbed through his skull. "Echelon—shut it down!"
"Attempting… hold—she's fighting me."
Seraphel's core lashed out, tendrils of semi-sentient code flickering like spectral limbs. Julius gritted his teeth, focusing, channeling his own sync signature. "You're not alone anymore. You're not lost. You're not Hive."
Something shifted. The pulses slowed.
Then a single voice—faint and feminine—whispered from the tank.
"…Vara?"
Vara stepped closer. "I'm here, Sera. I've always been here."
The light inside the tank changed—warmer now. The swirling storm within slowed to a swirl of soft green.
"Your signal… degraded. Memories… fragmented. Protocols…"
"We don't need the protocols," Vara said softly. "Just you."
Echelon chimed in. "Partial synchronization achieved. No threat detected."
A hissing noise followed as the tank's front slowly opened. Steam rolled across the floor as a soft thud echoed—an organic growth module, pale and slick, slid onto the floor like a sleeping shell.
Then it moved.
A sliver of light glowed across the surface, and a faint heartbeat echoed within.
"She's not fully awake," Vara said. "But she's listening."
Julius nodded. "Good. Because Vorr's not slowing down. And we'll need every advantage to survive what comes next."
Seraphel pulsed in response—small, but steady.
The first spark of a second symbiote had returned to life. And the balance in this war just shifted again.