The slums of Lower Kyra were loud with static and silence — an eerie mix only heard after the Fall.
Maya walked through it like a ghost. Hood up. Blade at her hip. The shard's signal pulsed in her palm, tracking one of the ten.
Vance.
But he was no longer the sharp-tongued analyst she once trusted. According to the Echo shard, he had gone dark—or rogue.
She found the signal in a ruined cathedral, repurposed as a memory market. Traders sold experiences like perfume: "First Kiss," "Mother's Laugh," "Last Regret."
She passed them all.
And then — she saw him.
Vance.
Alive.
And surrounded by mercenaries.
"Walk away, Maya," he said, not even turning.
"You knew I'd come."
"You're holding the shard. It hums like guilt."
She approached, slowly. "You're one of the Ten. They're coming for us. We have to move."
He finally turned, eyes sunken. "They already did. You're late."
He held up his arm. Skin peeled back, revealing implants that shimmered with Phoenix's architecture.
"They turned me into a living firewall," he said. "To guard something I can't even remember."
Maya's breath caught.
Vance continued, voice low. "You want the truth, Maya? It's not in Echo. It's not in the carriers. It's in what they buried under the first reset. Before even the Chair."
Her eyes narrowed. "You mean there was a version before Gideon?"
Vance nodded.
"Version Zero."
And then the roof exploded.
Flashes of white.
Shots fired.
A metallic thrum filled the air as four humanoid Reclaimers dropped through the smoke — sleek, fast, and silent.
Maya pulled her blade.
Vance ran.
Echo in one hand.
The truth in the other.
The past catching up in full force.