Part I: Rift
The fire crackled quietly in the cave's belly, casting long shadows on the stone walls. Outside, cold wind swept through the ruins, but inside the hideout, tension burned hotter than the flames.
Nova sat cross-legged near the fire, eyes closed, stone fragments levitating gently around them. The flickering light made their skin markings ripple like ink across parchment.
Artemis sat across from them, sharpening one of her retractable claws against a broken shard of Hunter armor. Elara leaned against the wall nearby, reading through her notebook, though her eyes kept drifting toward the silence between the two bonded.
"You're holding back," Nova finally said.
Artemis didn't look up. "I'm controlling it."
Nova opened their eyes, golden and glowing. "Same thing."
"No. It's not." Artemis stood slowly. "You saw what happens when you let it consume you. That wasn't power. That was chaos."
Nova tilted their head. "It was freedom."
Elara closed the book with a snap. "Freedom doesn't mean burning everything down, Nova."
"And what if the world deserves it?" Nova replied sharply. "Look at it—broken, empty. You're clinging to the past. I've seen what the portal gave us. We're meant to become more."
"We're meant to survive," Artemis said firmly, stepping forward. "That's all. Not rule. Not destroy. Just live."
Nova stood too, the firelight dancing in their eyes. "You're afraid. You don't want to admit you like what you've become. That the power feels good."
The cave went quiet.
Artemis didn't answer.
Not right away.
Because part of her knew Nova was right.
It did feel good.
The power. The instinct. The precision.
But it terrified her, too. Because she didn't know where the line was between Artemis and… whatever else was inside her now.
"Maybe," she said at last. "But I'm not going to lose myself in it."
Nova turned away. "You might not have a choice."
Part II: The Signal
Far to the east, in the shadow of what used to be a city center, a Hunter ship hovered silently above the ruins.
Inside, the command chamber was sleek and sterile, glowing with cold blue light. The lead Hunter—designated V1X-11—stood before a translucent projection of Artemis.
Data flickered across the screen: pulse scans, visual records, battlefield patterns.
"Subject continues to evolve," the AI voice said calmly. "Probability of Ascension: 73%."
"Higher than expected," murmured a second voice—organic, male, tired.
Dr. Kellen, one of the last human liaisons to the program, stood in the observation chamber beyond the glass.
"She wasn't meant to survive the bonding," he muttered. "None of them were."
"She is adapting," the AI responded. "Directive: containment or neutralization."
"And the others?"
"Two additional signals identified. One categorized as unstable. The other—technically augmented."
"Technomancers," Kellen muttered bitterly. "It's starting again."
The projection zoomed in—Artemis's last known location near the mountains.
A new signal appeared.
A beacon.
Triggered.
Alive.
"Prepare units," the AI commanded. "Converge on coordinates. Priority target: Artemis-1."
Kellen watched silently, a flicker of guilt in his eyes.
He whispered to himself, "You were never supposed to be part of this…"
Part III: A Warning
Later that night, Artemis stirred from sleep, sweat on her brow. She sat up, breath ragged, her red eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
"Another dream?" Elara asked softly, rising beside her.
Artemis nodded. "Not a dream. A warning."
Elara touched her shoulder gently. "What did you see?"
"Hunters," Artemis said, voice low. "A fleet. Moving. Fast."
She stood, heart racing.
"They're coming for us."