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Episode 14: A Glitch in the Heart
The team made their way out of the Null facility, bruised, battered, but alive. As they stepped into the fresh air of the abandoned outpost, Tunde stretched with a groan.
“If I ever have to hack another self-aware murder toaster again, I’m retiring and opening a jollof rice food truck,” he said.
Sophia smirked. “I’d eat there. But only if your rice isn’t as spicy as your ego.”
Martins, still supporting Zahara with an arm around her, chuckled softly. “Don’t encourage him. He’s already got too many followers on ‘Spygram.'”
Tunde shot him a mock glare. “Hey, not everyone gets fan mail from the presidential palace, Mr. Bodyguard of the Year.”
Zahara rolled her eyes, her strength returning slowly. “Okay, okay, let’s save the bromance for later. I just hacked an AI the size of a city, I might need like… tea. And a nap.”
Martins glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You also scared the hell out of me. You nearly died in there.”
Zahara met his gaze. “Aw. Were you worried?”
He nodded once, serious. “Of course I was.”
She smiled back, more playful now. “Well… if I ever nearly die again, I expect flowers. And chocolate. Maybe some dramatic slow-motion running.”
Tunde coughed loudly. “Ugh. Just kiss already. The tension is suffocating.”
“Shut up, Tunde,” both Zahara and Martins said at the same time, causing everyone to laugh.
—
Back at the base…
Lukas welcomed them back with a dry clap. “Nice of you all to survive. Thought I’d have to start recruiting new heroes.”
“Not happening,” Martins said, dropping his gear. “We’ve still got questions. Zahara saw something in the Core.”
Everyone turned to her. Zahara sighed, pushing back her hair and perching on the edge of the planning table.
“There’s someone else,” she said. “A presence behind the Core. They call them The Architect. I don’t know who they are yet, but they built this system — they’re watching everything.”
Sophia narrowed her eyes. “From inside the government?”
“Maybe higher,” Zahara replied. “They’re trying to rewrite reality through tech. Control thought, emotion, even love.”
Martins leaned forward. “That’s not happening. We’ll stop them.”
Zahara raised an eyebrow, her voice dipping low. “Even if they turn me against you?”
He stepped closer. “Even if they do, I’ll bring you back. Every time.”
There was a pause. That electricity in the air again. Everyone felt it.
Tunde, never one to let a moment settle too long, leaned back with a grin. “Cool. So are we gonna plan world-saving stuff now or just let you two make heart eyes till I puke?”
Zahara threw a pen at him.
—
Later that night…
Martins found Zahara on the rooftop of the base, looking at the stars.
“You okay?” he asked, sitting beside her.
“I should be terrified,” she said softly. “But somehow, being here with you… makes me feel grounded.”
Martins looked at her, his tone gentle. “We’ve got a long road ahead. But you’re not doing this alone.”
Zahara turned to him, closer now. “I know.”
The air shifted.
Then — finally — she leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that felt like electricity and gravity all at once. For that moment, the world stopped spinning.
Then…
Tunde’s voice blasted through the rooftop intercom:
“Ahem! Team cuddle time is officially over. Emergency alert just came in. Also, I might’ve burnt the popcorn.”Martins groaned. “I swear, one day…”
Zahara laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Never a dull moment with this team.”
Episode 15: Masked Intentions
The encrypted signal had come through scrambled, but two words stood out:
“Project Architect.”
Tunde tapped rapidly at his holo-keyboard while chewing the end of a pen like it was a high-stakes snack. “Okay, bad news — there’s a mole in the government feeding data to the Architect. Good news — they’re going to be at tonight’s Unity Gala.”
Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Unity Gala. As in… tuxedos, dresses, and tiny food with sticks?”
Tunde gave a finger-gun. “And high-level spies. Also, they’re serving that weird glowing blue drink again. Might be radioactive. Or minty. No one knows.”
Lukas entered the room, tossing two sleek black boxes onto the table. “You two are going in. Martins. Zahara.”
Zahara perked up. “Ooooh. Spy mission and dress-up? This is already my favorite mission.”
Martins looked less excited. “Do I have to wear a tux?”
Tunde leaned in. “No. You get to wear a tux. Big difference, bro.”
—
Later that night…
The Unity Gala was a shimmering display of futuristic opulence — chrome pillars, AI-powered waiters, ambient light from floating orbs. The elite of society mingled while orchestral synths played softly in the background.
Martins walked in, dressed in a custom-fit black tuxedo, trying to ignore the earpiece in his ear and Tunde whispering, “Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Okay now blink. Smooth. You’re a statue of cool.”
Zahara descended the steps in a midnight-blue gown that shimmered like starlight. Every head turned.
Martins blinked. “You look…”
Zahara smirked. “Say it and risk sounding cheesy.”
“I was gonna say dangerous.”
“Oh. That’s acceptable.” She linked her arm with his. “Let’s go spy on rich people.”
—
As they moved through the crowd, scanning for their target, they made conversation — part cover, part something more.
“So, do all your missions involve tuxedos and high heels?” Zahara asked.
Martins grinned. “Only the ones that end with saving the world and dancing with beautiful women.”
Zahara laughed. “Well played, Mr. Bodyguard. But let’s focus — I just spotted our mole.”
She discreetly pointed to a tall, well-dressed man at the bar, speaking into a silver bracelet. “That’s Senator Kalu. Dad trusted him.”
“Then he’s either very good at lying…” Martins said, slipping into protective mode.
“Or very blackmailed,” Zahara added.
They moved closer, syncing comms with Tunde, who quickly cracked into the Senator’s bracelet.
“Oh, wow,” Tunde muttered. “Guys — he’s sending real-time data to a hidden node. Someone’s watching through him.”
Just then, Senator Kalu noticed Zahara. His eyes widened with recognition — and panic.
“I think we’ve been made,” Zahara said, her smile never breaking.
“Then let’s dance,” Martins replied, grabbing her hand and spinning her onto the ballroom floor — just as security began to close in.
Episode 16: Waltz with Danger
The string-synth orchestra played a soft, elegant waltz as Martins spun Zahara across the marble floor like a pro. Around them, guests clapped and smiled — completely unaware that Senator Kalu’s security had locked onto Zahara’s position.
Martins whispered through clenched teeth, “Okay, keep smiling. Three men in black suits coming from your left.”
Zahara leaned in, lips barely moving. “How do I still look fabulous when being hunted? It’s a gift.”
“You’re not even sweating.”
“Perfume with nanobot cooling tech. It’s new. Want some?”
Martins smirked. “Tempting. But I’m more focused on not getting us tased in front of billionaires.”
They twirled out of the crowd and toward the side corridor just as the music hit its crescendo. Zahara fake-laughed at something Martins didn’t say, flipping her hair dramatically to hide her earpiece.
In his comm, Tunde said, “Okay, I’ve got your exit. Service corridor, left of the sculpture that looks like someone melted a spaceship.”
Martins spotted the statue — a twisted mess of chrome and light.
“Got it,” he muttered, guiding Zahara there just as two guards lunged toward them.
Without missing a beat, Zahara took off her high heel and chucked it. The heel struck one guard square in the forehead.
“YEAH!” Tunde screamed through the comms. “Weaponized fashion!”
Martins tackled the second, using the momentum to push open the corridor door. They stumbled into the dim hallway, breaths heavy, laughter bubbling between them despite the danger.
“That was close,” Zahara said, brushing off her dress.
“You okay?”
“I just hit a man with designer heels. I feel great.”
—
Back at the base…
Sophia slammed her fist on the table. “Kalu’s not just a pawn. He’s one of the co-founders of Project Architect.”
Lukas leaned forward. “And he’s not working alone.”
Tunde pulled up a blurry image from the node Zahara had seen through the senator’s bracelet. “Someone was on the other end of that connection — cloaked signal, voice-masked. But they said something weird…”
He hit play.
A digitized voice echoed:
“The override is compromised. Move the heart into place.”Zahara frowned. “Move the heart? What does that mean?”
Sophia looked at her. “It means they’re getting ready for something. You’re not the only one they need now.”
Martins folded his arms. “Then we find them before they strike.”
—
Later that night…
Zahara sat on the balcony, staring up at the stars again. Martins joined her, holding two mugs of something steaming.
She took hers. “Don’t tell me this is romantic tea.”
“No,” Martins said with a straight face. “It’s tactical hydration. For emotionally-charged rooftop bonding scenes.”
She laughed. “Perfect.”
There was a quiet pause between them.
“You really scared me at the gala,” he said finally.
“You say that like it’s new.”
“It is,” he admitted. “I’ve never cared this much about someone I was assigned to protect.”
Zahara looked at him, eyes soft. “You’re not just protecting me, Martins. You’re fighting beside me.”
Their fingers touched. Then laced.
And for a brief moment in a story full of chaos, war, and secrets — it was just them.
Episode 17: Echoes of Origin
The following morning, the team regrouped around the briefing table. Zahara had barely slept — a mix of adrenaline, dreams she couldn’t remember, and the ever-growing ache of too many unanswered questions.
Tunde, still in pajamas, kicked his feet up on the table. “So… I traced that encrypted signal from the gala. You’ll never guess where it’s coming from.”
Sophia narrowed her eyes. “Please don’t say space. I’m not in the mood for aliens today.”
“Nope. Better — or worse, depending on your anxiety levels. It’s coming from the ruins of Null Facility One. The first lab that tested neuro-tech on human subjects.”
Zahara’s blood ran cold. “That place was shut down years ago.”
Tunde nodded. “Yeah. After a ‘mysterious containment breach.’ You know what that means in sci-fi: glowing tubes, screaming scientists, and one poor intern who’s now part fridge.”
Lukas grunted. “Pack your bags. We’re going to dig up some ghosts.”
—
Hours later – outside Null Facility One
The team landed on a windswept cliff, the lab barely visible through the thick fog. Twisted metal and collapsed walkways hinted at an explosion that had torn the place apart from within.
Sophia pulled her coat tighter. “Why do all creepy labs have to be on cliffs? Is it in the evil villain handbook?”
Martins scanned the area. “Keep your eyes open. No telling what’s left behind.”
Zahara shivered as they entered the ruins. The walls flickered with residual energy — static images of doctors and test subjects, forever repeating the last moments of their existence. A child’s voice echoed faintly, distorted:
> “Heart… sync… override…”
Tunde pointed at a shattered console. “This is the main neural sync chamber. If you were trying to control minds, this is where you’d start.”
Zahara stood frozen in place, staring at a pod in the corner. It was scorched, half-open — but familiar. Uncomfortably familiar.
Martins noticed her expression. “What is it?”
“I… I’ve seen this pod. In my nightmares.” Her voice trembled. “I think I was born here.”
Tunde looked up, face suddenly serious. “Zahara… I just found something in the system logs. A recording. Dated 18 years ago.”
He played it.
A voice — cold, clinical — spoke:
“Subject ZH-01 shows extreme compatibility. Neural override: 94%. Memory suppression protocol active. She must not remember who built her.”Zahara’s knees buckled.
Martins caught her, holding her close as she stared at the wall.
“I’m not just someone they experimented on,” she whispered. “I was the experiment.”
Sophia looked stricken. “They didn’t just hack your mind. They designed you.”
—
Back at the base that night…
Silence hung heavy in the air. Zahara sat alone in the tech lab, her reflection flickering on the dark screen.
Tunde approached carefully, holding out a soda. “Hey. I brought sugar and bubbles. The international symbol of comfort.”
She gave a weak smile, taking the drink.
“I don’t know who I am anymore, Tunde.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
She blinked. “What?”
He sat beside her. “You know who you are to me? The genius who once hacked a military drone to drop glitter bombs. The girl who beat me at chess four times in a row and laughed every time. The woman who made him”—he jerked his thumb toward Martins—”stop being a human frown.”
Zahara laughed, wiping a tear. “Thanks, Tunde.”
“Don’t mention it. Ever. I have a sarcastic reputation to maintain.”
—
Later on the rooftop…
Martins found Zahara again, this time wrapped in a blanket, sipping the soda.
“You don’t have to come up here every time I spiral, you know,” she said softly.
“I know,” Martins replied. “But I kind of like being where you are.”
She turned to him, vulnerable. “Do you think I’m… real?”
He leaned closer. “You’re more real than anyone I’ve ever met. You laugh, you cry, you get mad when I eat your plantain chips. Doesn’t matter where you came from. What matters is who you’ve become.”
They sat in silence for a long time, watching the stars.
Finally, Zahara leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Promise me something,” she said.
“Anything.”
“When the time comes… if I lose control… you stop me. No matter what it takes.”
Martins didn’t answer right away.
Then he took her hand, squeezed it gently.
“I’ll protect you. Even from yourself.”
—
Meanwhile…
In a hidden chamber beneath the ruins of the lab, a figure watched the team through cracked surveillance footage.
A familiar voice echoed in the shadows.
“ZH-01 has awakened. Phase Two begins now.”
The Architect stepped into the light — and smiled.
Episode 18: Glitch in the Heart
The silence of the base was shattered by a scream.
Tunde bolted out of his quarters, hair wild and mismatched socks flapping on the polished floor. He found Martins already sprinting toward the tech lab.
Inside, Zahara was on her knees, clutching her head, the monitors flickering wildly behind her.
Martins dropped beside her. “Zahara—hey! Look at me. Breathe.”
“I—I can’t—” she gasped. “It’s like my brain’s trying to open a file I didn’t download…”
Tunde ran a scanner over her. “She’s glitching. Neural echoes are flooding her system. Someone’s triggering suppressed data—remotely.”
Martins helped Zahara onto the table. She was shaking, flashes of images dancing behind her eyes—lab rooms, surgical tables, people in black suits… and one face.
A man with silver eyes.
The Architect.
Zahara whispered, “He said… I was built for something called The Pulse. I don’t know what it is, but it’s—big.”
Sophia entered with Lukas, both grim.
Lukas spoke first. “If the Pulse is what I think it is… it’s not just a weapon. It’s a system override. Designed to knock out every defense grid on the planet.”
“Wait—” Tunde blinked. “So, she’s not just part of the system—she is the key?”
Sophia nodded. “Which means the Architect doesn’t need access codes. He needs her.”
Zahara looked up at Martins, panicked. “I’m not safe to be around. I could destroy everything.”
“No,” Martins said firmly. “You’re not a bomb. You’re a person.”
“And if I go off?”
“Then we stop it before that ever happens.”
—
Later that day… training room
Zahara stood in the center of the room, wearing a neural-stabilizer headset as she sparred with a holographic opponent. Tunde watched from the booth, munching popcorn.
“You know, for a potential destroyer of the world, she’s got great form.”
Martins entered, eyes on the display. Zahara was fast — too fast — as if her body was remembering techniques her mind hadn’t learned.
She took down the opponent with a brutal spin-kick.
“That’s… mildly terrifying,” Martins muttered.
Zahara turned to him, pulling off the headset.
“You came to see if I was still myself?” she asked.
“No. I came to remind you that even if you weren’t, I’d still be the idiot standing between you and the rest of the world.”
She smirked. “That’s kind of sweet. In a reckless, bodyguardy way.”
He stepped closer. “You scare me.”
“I scare me.”
They both laughed softly, the tension easing for just a second.
Then Zahara leaned in and whispered, “If I say I’m glad you’re here… does that make me sappy?”
“Yeah,” Martins said. “But I like it.”
They nearly kissed—until a loud crack echoed through the base.
An alarm blared.
Tunde’s voice came over comms. “Guys… we’ve got a breach. Unauthorized signal inside the perimeter. And you’re not gonna like who it is.”
—
In the surveillance room…
The camera feed showed a shadowy figure in a white cloak walking calmly through the facility — doors opening for him like they recognized his DNA.
The Architect.
Zahara’s eyes widened.
Martins stepped in front of her. “You’re not facing him alone.”
Zahara shook her head. “No. We are.”
Episode 19: The Architect’s Offer
The security systems tried to hold him back — doors slammed shut, lasers flared, and defense bots activated.
The Architect didn’t even blink.
With a wave of his hand, the entire system froze. Lights dimmed. Power rerouted. A soft hum filled the air as the man in white stepped into the base, immaculate, calm… and deeply unsettling.
Zahara stood in the center of the control room, flanked by Martins, Tunde, and Sophia, a stun rifle aimed squarely at the intruder’s chest.
“Well,” the Architect said smoothly, “I must say, for a secret base, the welcome mat is a little… cold.”
Martins growled, “You’ve got five seconds to tell us why you’re here before I redecorate the floor with your teeth.”
The Architect chuckled. “Relax, Sergeant. I’m not here to fight. I’m here to talk. To her.”
Zahara stepped forward, voice sharp. “Why now?”
“Because time is short,” he said, locking eyes with her. “And because your body is remembering faster than your mind. You’re unstable. Unpredictable. You’re becoming what you were meant to be.”
“And what’s that?” she snapped.
He smiled gently. “The end of failure. The beginning of control. You were the first to survive the Sync Trials. The only one who could merge organic emotion with synthetic precision. You are the Pulse.”
Tunde blinked. “Okay, weird how that’s both a compliment and a threat.”
Martins had his hand on his weapon. “Get to the point.”
The Architect’s smile vanished. “Join me, Zahara. Come with me, and I’ll stabilize your system. Your power. Your mind. You won’t glitch. You won’t lose control. You’ll be who you were born to be.”
Zahara laughed darkly. “You mean your puppet?”
“No,” he said. “My partner. Imagine it — you could rewrite the world. End war. End suffering. All it takes is one Pulse.”
Sophia snapped, “At the cost of free will?”
Tunde muttered, “Definitely evil. Like, 10 out of 10 on the Bond villain scale.”
But Zahara’s expression had changed.
There was hesitation in her eyes. Doubt.
Martins saw it. “Zahara. Hey. Look at me.”
She turned.
“You’re not just what they made you. You’re who you chose to become. You’re the girl who sings 90s pop in the shower. Who saved a dog from a burning lab. Who makes me feel like I matter.”
Her eyes welled up.
“You don’t need him. You don’t need anyone telling you who to be.”
The Architect frowned. “You’re glitching again. Soon, you’ll be a danger to everyone here.”
Zahara wiped a tear away. “Then I’ll take the risk. We’ll take the risk.”
A beat passed.
Then she added, “And if you ever come near me again, I’ll glitch so hard I’ll crash your face.”
The Architect actually smiled. “Ah. There she is.”
He turned to leave.
But just before stepping into the shadows, he looked back.
> “One more thing. When the Pulse activates — and it will — your body will override your will. And when that happens… I hope your friends are brave enough to stop you.”
And then he was gone.
—
Later that night…
The base was quiet again. Zahara sat with her legs tucked up on a couch, staring at the ceiling.
Martins walked in with two bowls of cereal.
“Food therapy?” she asked.
“Captain Crunch therapy,” he corrected.
She took a bite and smiled. “You’re too good at this.”
“What?”
“Reminding me I’m more than what they built.”
He hesitated, then reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re the most real thing in this fake world, Zahara.”
They looked at each other for a long time.
And then, finally, they kissed — no explosions, no tech malfunctions — just two people clinging to the little bit of peace they’d carved out.
Episode 20: Ghosts in the Signal
(The morning after…)Martins woke up to the soft buzz of the morning lights and the faint scent of Zahara’s hair on the pillow beside him. Her back was to him, breathing steady, calm. For once, there was peace — no alarms, no running, no shadowy figures threatening to rewrite humanity.
Just her.
He gently ran his fingers down her spine, tracing invisible lines like a map only he knew. Zahara stirred, eyes fluttering open.
“Morning,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.
“Hey,” he said, smiling. “You glitch in your sleep, by the way.”
She turned slowly to face him, raising a brow. “Do I attack people in my dreams?”
“Nope. You mumbled something about ‘lasagna encryption’ and ‘Tunde owes me five credits.’ It was intense.”
Zahara groaned. “Remind me to disable dream-speech. That’s embarrassing.”
He leaned in, kissing her forehead. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”
Zahara smiled — and for a moment, her walls dropped. There was vulnerability in her eyes, but also something solidifying between them: trust. Real, messy, undeniable connection.
“I wasn’t sure I’d wake up feeling like myself,” she whispered.
“Well… you are. And even if you weren’t, I’d still be here. Probably teasing you.”
“I’ll take that,” she said, pulling him into a slow kiss. “But next time, I pick the dream.”
They lay together in silence, letting the comfort of each other push back the chaos that waited outside their bedroom door.
Then the comm crackled.
Tunde’s voice, unusually serious: “You both better get to the command room. Something’s up. And… it’s big.”
—
Command Room — 15 minutes later
Sophia had pulled up a projection over the central table. It showed a map — flickering digital terrain, with glowing red pulses moving like blood through veins.
“Satellite feeds picked up synthetic signal spikes,” she explained. “The Pulse… it’s already leaking into the grid. Someone’s running simulations in the real world.”
Zahara frowned. “Where?”
Sophia tapped a section of the map. “One location so far. Remote, mountainous, but… there’s a town underneath the signal zone. Population: 4,600.”
Tunde added, “You’re gonna love this — it’s Lairen. Zahara’s birth town.”
Zahara blinked. “That can’t be right. That place was wiped out in a fire when I was ten…”
“No,” Sophia said. “That’s what the files said. But look at this—”
She pulled up a classified video.
Children. In white suits.
Labs.
Cages.
A young Zahara — scared, wired to a machine, looking straight at the camera.Zahara’s knees buckled. Martins caught her just in time.
“They made me there,” she whispered.
Sophia nodded. “And now they’re using the town as a trigger zone. If they activate the Pulse prototype… you’ll be drawn to it, like a beacon.”
Tunde crossed his arms. “It’s a trap. A really personal one.”
Martins’ jaw tightened. “Then we spring it. But on our terms.”
Episode 21: President, Prototypes & Pillow Talk
The jet hummed through the sky, slicing through clouds like a blade. Inside, tension buzzed just as loud.
Zahara sat in the corner, knees pulled to her chest, eyes locked on the tablet screen replaying footage of her younger self being experimented on. Her hands trembled — but only a little. She wasn’t the same girl in that video anymore.
Martins stood at the window, arms folded, his jaw tight.
Tunde? Oh, Tunde was definitely not keeping quiet.“So,” he began, dramatically swirling a cup of instant coffee, “let’s address the hummingbird in the hangar…”
Martins turned slowly. “Please. Don’t.”
Tunde smirked. “Too late. Have you been shagging Zahara?”
Martins choked on air. “What—?!”
Even Zahara blinked. “Excuse me?!”
Sophia, from across the cabin, didn’t look up from her tablet. “Ten credits says he lies.”
Tunde leaned forward, grinning. “Because—and I say this with deep concern—if you two are gonna keep doing the whole ‘intense stares and weird romantic whispering’ thing, I’d rather not walk in on any malfunctioning limbs or bedroom system overloads, okay?”
Martins narrowed his eyes. “You’re one code line away from getting tossed out of this jet, no chute.”
“Ohhh,” Tunde grinned wider. “So you have been—”
“Enough!” Zahara laughed, throwing a pillow at Tunde’s head.
Martins turned to Zahara, slightly flushed but still smug. “You gonna save me or let him keep going?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. He’s asking valid questions.”
Everyone burst out laughing — even Sophia cracked a rare smirk.
Then, the holo-comm chimed.
A secure line.
The seal of the United Territories lit up.
Martins and Zahara exchanged glances. Martins answered.
The President’s face appeared — dignified, grey-haired, and clearly not in the mood for small talk.
“Martins. Zahara. I’ve just been briefed on what you’re walking into.”
Zahara straightened. “You knew, didn’t you? About the lab. About me.”
There was a pause. The President sighed. “We had suspicions. Redacted files. Quiet whispers. But nothing confirmed. The Architect has been erasing history as fast as we’ve been uncovering it.”
“Why wasn’t I told?” Zahara asked, her voice sharp.
“Because I made the call to let you have your truth. Not theirs. I never saw you as a weapon, Zahara. I saw you as a daughter.”
The words landed heavy. Zahara froze. Sophia turned, surprised.
“Wait… like, actual ‘daughter’ daughter?” Tunde asked, blinking. “Did we just unlock a royal soap opera subplot?”
The President chuckled softly. “No, Tunde. Not biologically. But when you guard someone with your life, share dinners, talk about dreams and fears… you don’t need blood to love someone like family.”
Zahara looked down, touched — but conflicted.
“You’re walking into a storm,” the President continued. “But you won’t walk alone. You’ve got the best team I know… and me. We’ll get through this. Together.”
The line cut.
There was silence in the jet.
Tunde cleared his throat. “Okay. That was… really wholesome. I feel like I should hug someone. Or eat ice cream.”
Sophia tossed him a protein bar. “Closest you’re getting.”
—
As the jet descended toward Lairen, the atmosphere changed.
Below: a ghost town.
Half-covered in fog, half-lit by strange glowing circuitry spread across the land like veins.Martins gripped Zahara’s hand. “Ready?”
“No,” she whispered. “But I’m going anyway.”
And with that, they jumped into the unknown.
