To call it chaos would be an understatement. The GORCI base was collapsing, like a body with its connections cut and its power dying. Outside, those Burrower things kept wiping out the forest, quiet and steady. The messages coming in from the edges were a mess, full of panic: sectors falling, land turning to dust, the death zone growing bigger every minute.
Aris, Kaito, and some of Rostova's toughest soldiers were right in the middle of the retreat, pulling back through woods that were now a war zone. They were up against an enemy that didn't seem to care about anything. The air was getting bad, like all the good stuff was being sucked out of it.
"Get back to the next line of defense!" the squad leader yelled. His voice was shaky as one of those Burrowers came up through the roots of a huge oak tree next to them. The tree made a horrible noise as its green leaves turned gray in seconds.
During the messy retreat, Aris tripped. His boot got stuck on a root, and he went down, sliding away from the others. As he got up, he saw it: half-buried in the dirt, glowing with a nasty silver light, was one of those sphere things.
It wasn't dead. A crack ran across its smooth surface, and a crystal point, just like the Burrowers had, poked out, testing the air. The weird field around it was easy to see, bending light and sucking the life out of everything. The grass nearby was already turning white.
That buzzing in Aris's head turned into a scream. The stone around his neck felt like ice, then fire. He knew he should run, but he couldn't. Something pulled him in. This was where it all started. This was the truth. He remembered what the Archivist had said: 'You're different.'
As a Burrower started to come out of the sphere, its crystal head turning his way, Aris did something crazy. He jumped forward and slammed his hand on the sphere.
Everything went white.
The pain was the worst he could imagine. It felt like pure information was being burned into his soul. It was like what Elara had said, but a million times worse. But then, under the pain, he saw things, big and old things.
He saw those Obelisk things not as destroyers, but as machines. They traveled between galaxies, not to take over, but to care for a big, dark garden. Worlds weren't targets; they were just places where special things grew: thinking minds.
It hit him all at once. Life was everywhere. But minds, real minds that could think and feel, like people, those were rare. The Obelisks... The Weavers... they were collecting them. They weren't destroying. They were taking the energy of thoughts and feelings when they were at their best.
The Draw wasn't about killing. It was about taking. The empty bodies left behind were just leftovers, the shells that held the good stuff. People's fears, loves, dreams, that was what the Weavers needed to make… something else. Something huge.
He saw what Lily had drawn: the energy of the forest, stolen and focused into one point. It wasn't for power. It was for sending a message. One shot of everything they had learned, fired into space.
The pain stopped. He couldn't see the visions anymore.
Aris was on the ground, his hand burned with a silver mark. The Burrower was gone. He just didn't matter to them.
Kaito and some soldiers ran over to him, grabbing him and pulling him back.
"Aris! What were you thinking?" Kaito yelled, looking scared.
Aris coughed, his voice rough. "They aren't… destroyers. He looked at Kaito, his eyes intense. We're wrong about this. They're artists. And we… our minds… are the paint."
Back at the command center, a medic checked him out. Rostova listened to him talk, not showing anything.
"So, they're okay with killing us", she said, her voice cold. "That doesn't change anything."
"It's not killing, Commander", Aris said. "It's taking something. They need what we are. If we understand that, maybe we can talk to them. Maybe we can give them what they want without losing everything."
Kaito looked confused. "You mean, talk to them? Give them what they want?"
"I mean survive", Aris said, looking at Lily, who was drawing. "We can't just break them. We have to figure out what they're doing, so we can live with it."
The mission had changed. They weren't just fighting for their lives, but for what they meant. The Weavers wanted people's souls. Now they had to figure out what would happen if they let them take it.