The East Wing quivered under the echo of distant artillery. Council siege engines had joined the fray, their resonance disruptors calibrated to match Stage Four frequencies. Sandra stood at the center of the Lockdown Chamber, golden currents coiling around her like living threads. Tristan and Sebastian flanked her, eyes sharp, instincts primed, each a fulcrum for the triad bond that pulsed through the chamber.
Lyra's voice cut through the tension. "They've brought heavy assets. Stage Four alone won't stop them. You'll need to direct it, anticipate, and strike preemptively."
Sandra's chest tightened. She inhaled, letting the golden currents settle, feeling the resonance sync fully with her biological and instinctual markers. Stage Four was no longer a passive defense—it was a living extension of her consciousness, her instincts, her lineage.
"Ready?" Tristan asked, voice low, precise. His claws flexed, energy coiling faintly around them, a mirror to Sandra's lattice.
Sebastian's grin was predatory. "More than ever. Let's show them what Primordial power really is."
Sandra stepped forward. The lattice of energy extended outward, probing the East Wing's hallways and stairwells, mapping every shadow, every movement. Through instinct, she could feel the Council units' positions, even those beyond barriers, as if the currents themselves whispered secrets.
The first offensive wave surged. Hybrid units armed with disruptors and energy blades advanced in perfect formation, expecting hesitation. Instead, Sandra released a pulse—a preemptive strike guided by intuition and triad synchronization. Golden threads shot forward, wrapping, twisting, and redirecting attacks. Units were thrown off balance, some immobilized, some forced into collisions, the chamber amplifying each kinetic interaction.
Tristan moved like a shadow of her intent. Every strike precise, every block anticipating the lattice's reaction. Sebastian was chaos incarnate—fluid, unpredictable, striking from angles the enemy never expected, funneling attackers directly into Sandra's energy traps.
Lyra watched the patterns unfold. "Stage Four is now fully integrated. But the real challenge is multi-vector assault—they're trying to isolate you."
Sandra felt it—a subtle shift in the lattice, a pull on the currents. The Council was adapting, sending specialized disruptor teams to flank, to exploit potential gaps. Her pulse spiked, abdomen tingling—the Stage Four biological alignment reacting, preparing.
"Focus on the flow, Sandra," Tristan said, grounding her with sharp eye contact. "Anticipate, don't react."
Sebastian leaned closer. "Let them come. You'll see exactly what your power can do."
The next wave slammed into the corridor outside the chamber. Siege constructs, hybrid shock troops, energy disruptor teams—all coordinated to overwhelm. Sandra raised her hands slightly. Golden currents surged outward, forming living barriers that absorbed impact and redirected energy back toward the attackers. Stage Four's predictive algorithm worked seamlessly, anticipating every movement.
Tristan's strikes were surgical—he cut, deflected, and funneled attackers like a master conductor of battlefield choreography. Sebastian's movements were unrestrained but effective, striking from the periphery, forcing units into traps formed by Sandra's resonance.
Then came the Council's specialized disruptor team, armed with frequency-synced blades designed to bypass Stage Four's standard defenses. Sandra's lattice expanded instinctively, splitting into semi-autonomous threads that moved faster than conscious thought. They intercepted the disruptors mid-swing, wrapping, neutralizing, and redirecting energy into kinetic pushes that sent attackers staggering back.
Her pulse hammered, a rhythm of creation and destruction entwined. Stage Four was no longer reactive; it was anticipatory, shaping the battlefield. Her abdomen pulsed strongly—the next biological shift signaling an imminent surge in latent offensive capability.
Lyra's voice was calm but urgent. "They've identified a weakness in the chamber's periphery. You need to extend control beyond the threshold."
Sandra nodded. The triad bond pulsed visibly, energy intertwining through the three of them, extending beyond the chamber, infiltrating corridors, stairwells, even floors above. Tristan and Sebastian became anchors, not just for stability, but as conduits for her power.
The attackers faltered. Stage Four's anticipatory strikes preempted every assault, destabilizing formations before they could coalesce. Siege engines overloaded, hybrid units misstepped into energy traps, disruptors backfired, all orchestrated by instinct, triad synchronization, and biological resonance.
Tristan's voice cut through the chaos. "Keep the focus on triad flow! Don't let them isolate her!"
Sebastian's tone was almost playful amidst the destruction. "Isolation is impossible. They're in a storm they can't comprehend."
Sandra's breath hitched. Stage Four surged again, golden currents coiling tighter, pulses matching her heartbeat. She extended energy outward, shaping semi-solid constructs that acted independently, striking, shielding, and predicting. She could feel each attack before it landed. She could anticipate pain, block disruption, redirect momentum. Every Council soldier moving against her became a data point, a variable, a living vector of energy to manipulate.
Lyra's eyes glimmered. "They're regrouping for the final strike. Stage Four's offense will need augmentation."
Sandra's pulse accelerated. The lattice around her expanded, golden energy spiraling higher, coiling around Tristan and Sebastian. Their presences amplified her power, channeling instinct and raw biological potential outward. Stage Four had transcended defensive alignment—now it was pure, focused offensive power, the first true manifestation of her heir-capable lineage.
The final wave hit. Full Council squad, hybrid assassins, disruptor engineers, all converging at once. Sandra closed her eyes, heart synchronizing with the triad bond, and released the Stage Four offensive surge. Energy exploded outward, golden tendrils splitting, twisting, lashing, striking. Each thread moved semi-autonomously, striking targets in seconds before conscious thought could register.
Tristan and Sebastian moved as extensions of her mind. Tristan's strikes precise, lethal; Sebastian's chaotic, unpredictable, devastatingly effective. The Council units crumbled under the synchronized assault. Siege engines erupted, energy fields overloaded, hybrid units incapacitated. Stage Four amplified instinct, biological alignment, and triad resonance into one unstoppable wave.
When the dust settled, silence hung heavy. The East Wing's corridors were littered with defeated units. The golden lattice still pulsed softly around the Lockdown Chamber, signaling stability, readiness, and complete control.
Sandra breathed heavily, golden currents ebbing back to a steady glow. Tristan leaned against the wall, flexing his claws. Sebastian exhaled slowly, a grin tugging at his lips.
Lyra approached, her eyes assessing every detail. "Stage Four offensive integration: successful. You've just turned defense into annihilation without collapsing the triad bond."
Sandra's hands trembled slightly. "It… it worked."
Tristan's silver eyes softened as he studied her. "You didn't just survive. You controlled the battlefield. You predicted, reacted, and struck."
Sebastian's amber-gold gaze held a spark of awe. "And you did it without letting us touch you. That lattice… that power… it's yours."
Lyra nodded. "The Council now knows your full potential. Their next move will be calculated, precise, and desperate. The East Wing is no longer just a defensive zone—it is now a weapon."
Sandra's chest heaved. "And the next attack…?"
Tristan's tone was resolute. "We meet it with the same triad bond. And this time, we may not wait for them to make the first move."
Sebastian's grin was sharp, predatory. "Counterstrike becomes preemptive. We dictate the battlefield next time."
Sandra exhaled slowly, letting golden currents settle around her. Stage Four had revealed not just her power, but the extent of her instincts, her bond with Tristan and Sebastian, and the terrifying potential of her lineage.
The East Wing, once a fortress, had become a crucible. And the Siege of the Academy was far from over.