A crimson marker bloomed across my HUD, ARIA's whisper etching directly into my vision—no sound, just glowing text overlays that pulsed with urgent warmth, searing the retinas like branding irons: East docks. Abandoned foundry. 15 miles. Optimal route plotted.
Ava's Serpent shifted beside me, her visor tilting with a faint hydraulic sigh, the nano-suit creaking softly against her breath. "Any support, Eros?"
"Three of them," ARIA's holograms flashed in my eyes no the helmet's glass, eerie icons pulsing—indistinct silhouettes materializing from the starless void above, descending in unnatural silence that pressed against my eardrums like vacuum, their forms shimmering with a cold, metallic sheen that distorted the air, warping starlight into fractured halos, locking into a predatory triangle high overhead.
What were they? Phantoms with pulsing veins of unseen energy? Summons from the system's depths—or predators drawn to our scent?
