The Leviathan-class hauler loomed above the Vault like a star devoured by its own shadow. Its cavernous hold had once ferried entire platoons of Echelon prototypes; now it sat half-empty, hull scoured by age and neglect.
Julius led the team across the creaking gangway, each step echoing through the empty bay. Brinley checked his gauges. "Pressure seal's good. Cabin's been hermetically maintained."
Selene hovered near the cargo ramps, monitoring external readings. "The trench entrance is alive with tectonic activity. If we misjudge the drop, we'll be crushed before we even start."
Vara loaded her glaive into the weapon rack, glancing back at the Vault entrance. "No pressure, then."
Seraphel stood silent, her eyes glowing faintly as she interfaced with the hauler's primus console. Lines of code scrolled across overhead holos—ancient protocols reactivated. "Navigation link established. The path to the Abyssal Null is charted."
At the aft hold, Veyrion waited, dwarfed by the ship's massive loading cranes. His plating bore fresh scars from the Sentinel. He nodded once. "I thought I was finished."
Julius placed a hand on his shoulder. "We all are, until we're not."
A warning tone sounded. Selene's voice cut in: "Tidal surge inbound. Ten seconds to drop."
They strapped in tight as the hauler's engines roared. The cargo bay doors yawned open, revealing the yawning mouth of the trench—a swirl of midnight blue and black, veins of bioluminescent plankton trailing like sparks.
"Here we go," Brinley whispered.
The hauler lurched forward. Gravity reversed as they plummeted. Lights flickered. Alarms screamed. Outside, the trench walls rose and fell in undulating patterns of fluid rock and living coral-tech.
"Hold steady," Julius said, teeth gritted. "Seraphel, lock in the Seed's resonance."
"Forging link," she replied, voice calm. "One hundred percent."
The Forge Seed, secured in a containment cradle between Selene and Seraphel, began to pulse in time with the ship's engines. Its light filtered through the hold, painting every surface in shifting emerald and violet hues.
Suddenly, the trench constricted. A massive slip of rock—alive with Hive tendrils—loomed ahead.
"Evasive!" Julius barked.
The hauler banked hard, tractor arms grappling shifting reef structures. The world outside became a blur of organic metal. Drones swarmed against the hull—small, suicide morphs that exploded on contact, splattering the viewport with acidic blood.
"Pressurizing outer shields!" Selene shouted, slamming a panel. The hull shimmered as an energy field rippled outward, neutralizing the blasts.
They dove deeper, the trench narrowing. The waves of storm currents gave way to oppressive stillness. The water grew thick, almost gel-like, and the lights dimmed to near darkness.
"Depth: forty-two thousand meters," Selene reported, voice strained. "Environmental systems at critical."
The hauler shuddered. Pipes groaned. Seraphel's tendrils flared. "We're close."
Brinley checked his rifle's sonar. "Life readings… faint. Multiple. But no Hive patterns."
"Could be the Architect's guardians," Vara whispered.
Through the gloom, strange shapes shimmered—massive rings of alloy and bone, floating in concentric circles, as if leading them onward. At the center, the vault doors, black as obsidian and pulsing with inner light.
"Docking clamps engaging," Selene said. "Hold us steady."
The hold's magnetic grapplers latched onto unseen rails. The engines cut, and the ship oscillated before settling into silence.
Julius unstrapped. "Let's finish this."
They advanced down the ramp into a cavernous antechamber. The air was heavy, charged with the Seed's hum. Glyphs older than time covered the walls—images of star forges and cosmic storms.
At the far end, beyond a field of swirling plasma conduits, stood a doorway framed in living bone and alloy. The Forge Gate—this one untouched, waiting.
Seraphel stepped forward, hand on the gate. "Ready, Julius?"
He nodded. "Let's awaken the Architect."
She placed the Seed into its cradle. The Gate flared to life, tendrils knitting overhead.
Outside, in the trench's endless black, something stirred—and watched.