The home of the Rotcastors was not what I'd expected.
Instead of a wasteland, it felt like stepping into a hidden oasis. The plants and trees were alive in a way I hadn't seen in this Cradle—lush, vibrant, untouched by decay. They reminded me of home, and a pang tightened in my chest. How I wished I was still there, safe with Vivid.
A tiny village bloomed in a space no larger than our house back in my home Cradle. The buildings were stacked and smashed together, some teetering half-on-top of others like a sculpture born of desperation. And yet, they had a strange beauty—like living art. They reminded me of the blocks Vivid used to build towers from with such patience. I could never replicate her delicate hands.
As Rebel and I approached, a group of villagers came to meet us. Their faces lit up at the sight of him—then turned cautious when they saw me.
"She's okay, she's with me," Rebel kept saying. With his reassurance, the tension melted, and they came closer. Some clapped him on the back, others exchanged high-fives. Relief mixed with celebration.
They were all young—no older than Rebel, none as old as my parents. Survivors. Hardened. Scarred. Some were missing hands or limbs. One woman had no foot. Still, they moved with purpose.
A girl with lilac hair stared at me, one eye missing, a jagged scar across what remained of her face. When she saw me looking, she scowled and turned away.
"That's Lyric," Rebel whispered. "She gets self-conscious. Don't take it personally."
I nodded numbly. The world felt off, dreamlike. I had been in Cyberspace too long. I had been alone too long.
Rebel tensed suddenly and quickened his pace.
"Rebel!" a boy shouted, breathless as he ran up. "She's worse—hurry!"
Rebel cursed and broke into a sprint. I followed, panting to keep up.
At the village center, a crowd had gathered.
A girl sat rigid on a stool, tears slipping down the intact side of her face. The other quarter of her features had been devoured by corruption—glitched, melted, unraveling. I could almost taste the decay. Her code was breaking apart in slow-motion, piece by shimmering piece.
Rebel dropped to his knees beside her and brushed her hair back. He whispered something I couldn't hear.
I stepped forward. The crowd parted for me. "What happened?" I asked before I could stop myself.
The girl's eyes flicked to me. She tried to speak, but Rebel hushed her.
"Shhh. I got it back, Priya, love. It's going to be okay. Just like I promised."
He squeezed her hand. Her expression softened—tender, trusting. Something I had only seen once, between my parents.
Up close, I saw she was young—Rebel's age. Dark-skinned, her hair woven in a braid. Her eyes wide with terror.
"You're not leaving me," Rebel whispered, voice shaking. "Priya Ray."
The name hit me like a blow. His wife.
He had risked it all… for her. Guilt twisted in my stomach. I had judged him too harshly.
Gently, he hugged her, mindful of her damaged side. Then he pulled out the stolen canister—the one from Hexa Quell—and opened it.
Inside, a pale strand of code flickered. Barely there. A ghost of light.
"What are you doing?" I gasped.
"Saving her," he said through clenched teeth, already focusing. His eyes went vacant.
I cursed.
Without thinking, I dropped to the ground and plunged my mind into Cyberspace.
There they were—Rebel, semi-transparent, and Priya, her code unraveling like a tapestry set on fire. Bits floated away into the void.
Rebel worked fast. The strand of code was already embedded. Each time he added a fragment from the void, light sparked. The decay slowed.
But something was wrong. My heart sank as I read his method. He was patching corrupted Architect code with a different codebase entirely.
A cardinal sin. Dangerous. Reckless. Priya could die in agony.
I scanned the code frantically, looking for another way. Her body of data flickered, screaming for balance—and then the answer hit me.
I dove in beside him. He resisted—but only for a moment. Then I began to unweave and rethread. The system groaned under my will, but I held steady.
Piece by piece, I reached into the abyss and retrieved her. Mending. Restoring.
Rebel stayed beside me—tense, but no longer fighting.
I reached to detach the flawed patchwork he'd created. I was so close.
And then I felt it.
A presence.
Cold. Watching.
I froze. Rebel did too. His code flickered—then a piece broke off, vanishing into the void.
No. No, no, no.
I knew this sensation. But this was worse.
Not just Cyberspace's natural decay. Something else had found us. Targeted us.
Bright white eyes emerged from the dark.
They locked on me.
I couldn't move. I could feel it peeling me apart, beginning to unmake me.
And then, it spoke—not with words, but with an echo that vibrated inside my skull:
"Threat detected."
My instincts kicked in.
"I never tampered with your system!" I shouted into the void. "I'm fixing what's broken. I'm doing a Codewright's duty!"
The pressure eased.
"I am mending that which was corrupted," I added, inserting another perfect line of code into Priya. Her form stabilized.
I pulled out Rebel's flawed line and replaced it.
She became whole—glowing, steady. Her trace normalized.
Relief surged through me.
And then I saw it: only two traces remained.
Hers.
Mine.
Rebel was gone.
"Where is my friend?" I demanded. "Where is he?"
No answer. Just silence. That ancient, unknowable presence.
And something deep within me recognized it. A voice like a whisper from a memory:
"Be good, De Aura."
I acted without thinking. Held out Rebel's creation. Bowed my head, forehead pressed to the lines of code.
Cold washed over me as the corrupted code lifted from my hands.
"Threat neutralized," the voice said."No further threat found."
The presence vanished. For a moment, I thought I saw the flicker of a girl—but she was gone before I could be sure.
When I snapped back into the Cradle, chaos had erupted.
People were shouting, pointing to the place where Rebel had stood.
Now—just air.
"No," I breathed.
Priya sat stunned, staring at the now-empty canister.
"Where's Rebel?" someone asked, voice shaking.
But I already knew.
He was gone.
"He sacrificed himself to save her," I murmured. "He didn't have to die…"
The weight of it hit me like a landslide. If I'd only known—if I'd stopped him…
Priya sobbed, clinging to my legs. Her tears soaked through my clothes.
"You're a Codewright?" someone asked.
I didn't answer.
I stared at the canister. At the place where Rebel had stood. At Priya's trembling form.
"He saved me," I whispered. "There was… something else. I think it took him because of the code in the canister."
I knelt beside her, arms around her shaking shoulders. She cried into me—and I cried too.
Because maybe… maybe that thing had taken Vivid too.
Maybe she was already gone.
Like Rebel.