The shaft Adan moved through narrowed sharply before flaring into a larger node, indicating a control chamber of some sort was likely below her. She looked around for the operator switch board that would open a path for her.
A yellow ring was projected over her target.
“Thank you, Sai.” Adan started to fiddle with the lock.
“You could have let Lynn join you,” the A.I. noted. “Not much time would have been lost securing the escort.”
Adan smiled softly. “True, but we are talking about a Black-Class mission. I can’t guarantee his survival anymore. It’s better to keep him out of it.”
The A.I. stilled, oddly quiet, but Adan was distracted by the hatch that opened next to her. Adan dropped into the room like a shadow, boots barely making a sound. A floorplan overlay flicked open in front of her, highlighting areas her sentinels had flagged for closer investigation.
The room smelled of ozone, stale air, and something sour—old blood, maybe. Rusty terminals were scattered across long counters, some still flickering in standby, many more fully drained of energy. On one wall, ancient tapestries depicting fire-wielding figures had been pushed aside, revealing a bank of glowing control panels.
She picked up a stack of papers from one of the counters, skimming through the content.
“It looks like Emberon has managed to figure out some of the controls for the structure left behind by the Ancients. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t managed to self-destruct it all in the process.”
“Pity.”
Adan laughed. “Sai, if I didn’t know better I would have thought I activated a sassy personality for you by mistake.”
Ignoring her A.I.’s grunt, Adan moved quickly, fingers dancing across the dusty interface of the control panel on the wall. She swiftly decrypted several logs, targeting what data Emberon had managed to gain access to. He had opened several structure charts, power distribution grids and some user manuals for the base, but it was unclear how much he had understood.
Adan moved back to the stacks of papers on the counter, scanning page after page at an unbelievable pace.
“Emberon’s notes suggest that he has already searched most of the subterranean royal crypts,” her A.I. noted. “The final search radius is triangulated, but his data integrity is incomplete. He’s guessing.”
“Which means we still have an opening,” Adan murmured, frowning at the map that was being updated with markers on already searched areas.
She dug deeper.
A more elegant-looking journal at the bottom of one pile caught her attention. Flipping through it, Adan’s hands suddenly froze, pausing at a particular entry.
“I have been studying the ancient texts of Solmani’s churches and comparing them to what we have in Valdmanic lore and can conclude that our prophecy of the male ice bender and Ancients are incomplete. The full version is as follows:
When the moon bears a hidden son, born with a heart of winter’s core, and the sun casts down a fallen daughter, crowned in infernal fire and shadow—then shall the veils between the worlds tremble.
By his silence shall the storm be seeded; by her exile, the flame rekindled. And when frost and flame stand as one, the old law shall break, and the world shall split.
One shall bring the end. Both shall open the way.
“I do not yet know if this holds any significance but it is worth keeping in mind.“
Some of these lines mirrored the fragments Keeper Ena had spoken. But here, there was more—an implication that the bond between herself and Lynn was not coincidental. That it was shaped, forged through dimensions, entangled by design or fate. Adan’s gaze fell on the dusty consoles on the wall.
‘Could the prophecy have been left by the Ancients?’
The line by her exile, the flame rekindled struck like a lash. Exile. She hadn’t chosen to leave the Federation, but she had been blocked from going back. And rekindled flame? Was she not becoming a spark of resolution, leading the Sun Tribes back to a brighter path?
She brushed her thumb across the console without thinking—then hissed. A sharp pain bloomed in her hand. A small shard of reinforced glass embedded in the corner of the terminal had sliced her skin.
Blood welled. She wiped it quickly but didn’t see the tiny smear that dripped onto a dull bronze trinket resting beside the terminal: a medallion shaped like a sun with an open flame in the middle.
It pulsed once. An unnoticed tremor rippled through the air, gone before it could be named. Then stillness.
Unaware, Adan backed away, pushing the prophecy to the back of her mind.
“Any news on Emberon—has he noticed the King is missing yet?”
“Status unconfirmed. Emberon seems to have entered a room blocking the sentinel’s signals, much like the blocked areas in the castle. However, there are no changes in patrol patterns throughout the structure so the likelihood is small.”
“Do we have enough to start investigating potential locations for the weapon?”
“Affirmative. Cross-referencing the untouched areas with the data from the sentinels and the base layout stored in this console, Sai has located three areas of interest.” The A.I. paused. “One of the areas is close to the dungeon cell reportedly holding Lynn’s family. Sai should be able to get a data transfer from their sentinels if that area is inspected.”
Adan smiled. “How considerate of you, Sai.”
“. . . please remember that sentiment shortly.”
“Huh?” just as Adan was about to press further, a clang echoed behind her. A grating shuffle of limbs, followed by a loud thump.
She whirled around.
“Lynn?”
The young man lay sprawled on the floor, he had emerged from the same shaft she had used, but had failed the landing. He was disheveled, breathless—but determined. Only now did Adan notice that the faint pull at her wrist, the subtle but constant pulse in the water bracelet Lynn had gifted her, had grown significantly stronger. He must have used it to track her location through the maze of shafts above.
A smile tugged at her lips but it quickly stiffened.
He shouldn’t be here. Adan wanted him to be safe. That was the whole point.
“You should be with Kimba,” Adan said, her voice hard but not truly angry. Some part of her, the part that had ducked with lonely determination under fire before, whispered that she was glad for the company.
“I was, until we reached the larger caverns. The King’s safe. You are not.” He looked at her pointedly. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice me coming and leave me in the dust. I figured that was either a good sign or a very bad one.”
Adan scowled slightly. She really hadn’t noticed him approaching until he literally fell into the room. “Sai, care to explain?”
“…Based on Lynn’s behavior patterns, Sai calculated that his support would have a positive impact to your survival chances. Thus Sai deemed it beneficial to facilitate his arrival, despite your reluctance.”
Adan sighed. “I will deal with you later.”
“Noted.”
Her attention returned to Lynn. She reached out, silently relishing at the warmth of his palm as she helped him to his feet.
“I have a lead on the weapon and perhaps your family too.”
Lynn smiled back at her, hints of pride in his face. “Of course you do.”
They exchanged no more words. They didn’t need to.
Side by side, they slipped out of the room and into new tunnels.
Not too far away, a room pulsed with cold, white light. Emberon sat stiffly in a worn, padded command chair that miraculously had withstood the test of time.
Around him, a dozen monitors blinked. Views from corridors and various rooms circulated, toggling through areas with movement. Emberon had found this room by coincidence a few years back. It was one of his most well kept secrets, a marvel of technology he longed to make his own.
He loved sitting here and watching as people, not aware of his prying eyes, moved through the corridors under the castle. He regretted that his excavations into the Ancient’s tunnel systems seemed to have damaged these windows, only leaving a selected few still functioning.
At this moment, one window in particular had caught his attention. It followed a pair of familiar figures winding their way through restricted tunnels. Their presence alone had been of a shock for him, but the glyph that hovered over the self-proclaimed bodyguard had shook Emberon to his very core. He couldn’t read it, but he recognized what it symbolized well enough.
An Antient One.
Emberon’s fingers twitched. He wanted nothing more than to capture this rare creature and empty it of all secrets that were no doubt swimming in its head, but he knew the legends better than anyone. He wouldn’t be its match.
And then there was the ice bender.
Emberon had assumed that the bastard had failed his awaking but. . . . His eyes flicked to another screen.
The King was missing from the chair.
Emberon’s jaw clenched. He had witnessed the water pulling the King out of the range of his viewing windows, and the latter had yet to reappear anywhere else.
“An ancient and an Ice bender?” Emberon muttered, subconsciously biting his nails. “There was truth to the prophecy after all.”
He stood and paced the room
“Perhaps it means I was meant to find it,” his voice shifted, gaining an edge of madness. “Perhaps it was always meant to be mine.”
Emberon knew he wasn’t strong enough to face them head on. But, he had come too far to stop now.
Desperate, he flipped through his notes on his research, trying to figure out where they could be headed. Suddenly, Emberon stilled, his gaze shifting to a screen showing a circular chamber, bare and sterile. Above the center sat a box. From what he had managed to decipher, it was called a MOAB and it warned Ancients from activating while inside the room.
He smiled.
“I’ve waited a long time to see what one of those would do.”
With the practiced motion of a child who has learnt something by heart, Emberon activated the few controls he had managed to learn, closing some paths while opening others.
He would not be stopped. Not by a backwards King. Not by an Ice bender. Not even by an Ancient.
Adan’s pace slowed. Her A.I. was mapping potential intercept routes between the suspected weapon vault and the location of Lynn’s family—but every path felt too clean, too . . . directed.
“Sai,” she probed. “Where are all the guards? It is odd that we haven’t met any for a while.”
“Judging by patrol patterns, Sai suspects a shift change is underway. However, Sai agrees that the timing is too . . . coincidental.”
“That’s not a very scientific statement,” Adan commented as they rounded a bend. The corridor shifted, widening to a larger circular room.
White, sterile, silent.
Stepping into the room, Adan frowned. The room felt familiar. Not the actual room, but the structure of it. She had seen similar during her training.
“Sai-” Before Adan could ask for details, the tunnel access points on both ends of the room slammed shut.
“Well, well, well. I though I smelled a rat.” A cracking voice sounded through too old speakers.
Emberon’s voice.
“I was quite shocked when I noticed that Fenix was missing, both from his rooms and all the viewing windows, but I got another pleasant surprise instead. A true Ancient, snooping around my corridors.”
Lynn moved to Adan’s back, vigilantly scanning the room. “Emberon, only a coward speaks from hiding. Show yourself if you dare.”
Emberon laughed. “Goading won’t help you, Ice Bastard. I was wondering how to get rid of you after you ran away, but now I can take you both out at the same time.”
“Adan! We are in trouble-this is a BioArmor Evaluation Chamber!” Sai suddenly warned, sounding frantic. “Sai can’t bypass the locks from inside!“
“I have wanted to test this room for a while now, but it always felt like a waste. I wonder, what kind of devastation will a MOAB cause?”
Adan’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the familiar term. Her mind racing. “Effect?”
“11 tons. A massive non-nuclear detonation. One kilometer impact range in the open.” The A.I. paused slightly. “It can only be fully blocked by a BioArmor at 80% deployment or more.”
[BioArmor status: 52%]
[Survival probability; Adan 80%, Lynn 0%]
Adan glanced at the data points. Her mind racing though hundreds of options, but only finding one that could possibly make a difference.
“Override operator protection. Protocol X-42: Guardian’s Sacrifice.”
“Adan . . .”
“Not now, Sai.” A slight pause. “Forgive me, okay?”
She had made her choice.
Memories of running through training ground fields—laughing as her annoyed sister was trying to catch up—flashed by, filling her with a bitter taste of regret, but . . .
Adan turned around and stared Lynn deeply in his eyes. Those beautifully cold-blue eyes. She didn’t want them to lose their shine.
Nadia would manage, she always did.
“Haha, from your reaction, it looks like you understand what is about to happen, Ancient,” Emberon crackled. “Out of respect for your forefathers and the gifts they have given me, I will give you the courtesy of a countdown to say your goodbyes. 10 . . . 9 . . .”
“Adan?” Lynn looked confused. “What is going on?”
Adan pulled him in to a tight hug. The BioArmor flowed off her like liquid, adhering to Lynn’s skin instead and turning obsidian black as it activated maximum protection. In mere seconds, Adan’s last line of defense was fully transferred to Lynn, leaving her exposed but someone more important protected.
“You will be fine, Lynn.” she whispered. “You are strong.”
“Adan?” Lynn struggled in her embrace, desperate fear growing within him. “Talk to me! What is going on?”
“7 . . . 6 . . .” Emberon continued, sounding vexingly amused.
“I wish . . .” She stopped herself, “Nevermind. Thank you.”
“Ada-” Lynn managed to pull back slightly but his mouth was stopped with a kiss.
Deep and desperate. Final.
“3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .”
“Take care, Lynn.” she whispered—one last breath against his ear.
“Zero!”
Everything happened at once.
She saw a flicker of terror in Lynn’s eyes before an instantaneous blinding light swallowed everything, followed by searing heat. Adan hugged Lynn tightly, the blast wave slamming them both to the ground as she desperately tried to exert some manner of control over the flames in the explosion.
She didn’t think she could save herself, but she needed to bring down the energy in the explosion enough for Lynn to survive, even with only a partial BioArmor to protect him.
Adan roared, or at least she thought she did. The deafening soundwave of the explosion had already burst her eardrums. There was utter silence.
She felt nothing but pain.
Deep, instant, tearing pain.
And then, nothing at all.
Snowy Publications 