The city did not know it yet, but it was already under siege.
From above, it looked normal—traffic flowing, lights blinking, people moving through their routines unaware that invisible lines had been drawn around them. HÉLIOS satellites adjusted their orbits with surgical precision, feeding endless streams of data into cold algorithms designed to predict one thing only:
Where the Light would break.
Beneath the city, far below streets and concrete, the sanctuary opened.
Stone shifted with a low, resonant groan, ancient mechanisms responding to a command older than language. A concealed passage unfurled like a spine stretching after centuries of stillness, revealing a tunnel descending into darkness veined with faintly glowing symbols.
Daniella stood at its threshold.
She wore dark clothes now—borrowed, reinforced, marked with faint Luminæ sigils that pulsed softly against her skin. The Light within her felt different. Not quieter. Sharper. Like a blade waiting to be drawn.
Kaël stood beside her, his shadow already merging with the darkness ahead.
— Once we cross this point, he said, his voice low, the sanctuary can no longer fully mask us.
Pyra cracked her neck, flames coiling lazily around her wrist.
— Then let's make it worth it.
Terra adjusted the reinforced gauntlets on his arms, the stone beneath his feet subtly responding to his presence.
— HÉLIOS units are already moving. Urban grid, sector twelve. They're setting a perimeter.
Aeris hovered a few centimeters off the ground, grinning despite the tension.
— Which means they expect us to come from the obvious direction.
Nyx stepped forward last, her form flickering.
— Good. Let them watch the wrong shadows.
Daniella took a slow breath.
She could feel it now—the city. The people. The pressure building like a storm trapped beneath glass.
— We split, she said.
Everyone turned toward her.
— Not far. But enough to stretch them thin.
Kaël studied her carefully.
— Say it.
— I'll be the signal, Daniella continued. — Not the target. They want the Lymen to surface? Fine. But we control where.
A beat.
Terra nodded.
— There's an old transit hub beneath sector twelve. Abandoned. Reinforced. I can collapse access points if needed.
— I'll disrupt their airspace, Aeris added. — Drones, comm relays, anything that flies.
Pyra smiled, flames sharpening.
— I'll make sure they don't ignore us.
Nyx's eyes glinted.
— And I'll make sure they never see all of us at once.
Kaël didn't speak.
He was watching Daniella.
— You're sure? he asked quietly.
She met his gaze.
— They're hurting people because of me.
Light stirred beneath her skin, calm but absolute.
— That ends tonight.
The tunnel sealed behind them.
And the sanctuary fell silent.
Sector Twelve had been dead for years.
A skeleton of unfinished buildings loomed against the night sky, concrete ribs exposed, windows hollow. Construction cranes stood frozen like rusted giants, and the streets below were empty—cleared hours earlier under the guise of "structural instability."
HÉLIOS preferred empty battlefields.
Five armored units advanced through the main avenue, weapons lowered but ready. Their visors glowed faintly blue, linked directly to the command net.
— No visual contact, Unit Lead reported. — Thermal scans clean.
— Maintain formation, Central replied. — Do not engage unless confirmed.
Above them, drones hovered silently.
Then the air changed.
A subtle pressure shift rippled through the street, unnoticed at first. Then one of the drones wobbled.
— Drone H-22 destabilizing—
A sudden gust slammed into it from below, folding air like steel.
The drone shattered against a building façade.
— Hostile detected!
Wind exploded through the street.
Aeris dropped from above like a living missile, landing atop a streetlight. The metal bent instantly.
— Hi, boys.
A shockwave of compressed air blasted outward, flipping armored soldiers off their feet.
At the same moment, the ground cracked.
Stone surged upward, forming a jagged wall that split the unit in half. Terra rose with it, eyes glowing faintly, fists clenched.
— You're not crossing this line.
HÉLIOS units recovered fast.
— Multiple Bearers confirmed! Engage!
Energy rounds tore through the air—
—and vanished.
Flames erupted mid-flight, Pyra stepping from behind a collapsed bus, fire spiraling outward in controlled arcs that melted projectiles into slag.
— Wrong neighborhood.
The streetlights went out.
Darkness swallowed the battlefield.
Nyx moved within it like a thought.
One unit fired blindly—and screamed as its sensors overloaded, reality folding in on itself. The soldier stumbled, firing at shadows that weren't there, his own reflection attacking him from every angle.
— Stay together! the commander shouted.
Too late.
Because the Light had arrived.
At the far end of the avenue, Daniella stepped into view.
She did not glow.
Not yet.
She simply stood there, rain soaking her hair, eyes fixed forward.
HÉLIOS targeting systems locked instantly.
— Omega-level signature detected!
— Fire!
The Light answered before the weapons did.
A golden pulse rolled outward—not destructive, not explosive—but absolute. Every system it touched failed.
Visors went dark.
Comms died.
Drones fell from the sky like dead insects.
Daniella lifted her hand.
The streetlight beside her reignited—not with electricity, but with pure Light, blazing brighter than any lamp ever could.
— I'm right here, she said calmly.
From the shadows behind her, Kaël stepped forward.
Darkness unfolded around them, coiling with the Light—not fighting it, but shaping it.
— And you're outmatched.
HÉLIOS reinforcements poured in from every direction.
Too many.
Too fast.
From orbit, Central Command watched the feeds stabilize just long enough to confirm it.
The man in the dark coat smiled faintly.
— There it is.
— Confirmation of synchronization, an officer reported. — Lymen and Void operating in tandem.
— Beautiful, the man murmured. — And inefficient.
He raised a hand.
— Release the countermeasure.
Deep beneath the city, something awakened.
A pulse—wrong, artificial—rippled outward.
Daniella staggered.
— Kaël—?
Her Light flickered violently, spiking out of rhythm.
Kaël's shadow lashed outward instinctively, but it recoiled, distorted.
— They're interfering, he said sharply. — Frequency inversion.
Pyra cursed as her flames sputtered.
— What the hell is that?
Terra dropped to one knee, the ground beneath him trembling unpredictably.
— It's targeting the bond, Nyx whispered, her form destabilizing. — They've built something to disrupt us.
HÉLIOS units regrouped, weapons recalibrated.
— Re-engage!
Energy slammed into the street, explosions ripping through concrete.
Daniella screamed as the Light surged uncontrollably, burning, tearing at her from the inside.
— I can't—control it—
Kaël grabbed her shoulders.
— Look at me!
She did.
His eyes were dark, steady.
— Don't fight it alone.
He stepped closer, pressing his forehead to hers.
Darkness wrapped around the Light—not suppressing it, but anchoring it.
The chaos slowed.
The artificial pulse faltered.
— Now, he whispered.
Daniella exhaled.
The Light changed.
It condensed.
Focused.
A single beam erupted from her hand, not wide, not wild—precise. It punched through the source of the interference buried beneath the street.
The ground collapsed inward.
Silence followed.
HÉLIOS systems crashed simultaneously.
On every screen in Central Command, feeds went dark.
For the first time, the man's smile vanished.
— …Impossible.
Back on the street, the remaining HÉLIOS units retreated.
Smoke rose.
Sirens wailed in the distance—civilian this time.
The Bearers regrouped quickly.
— We can't stay, Aeris said. — Too much attention.
Terra nodded.
— But they felt that.
Pyra looked at Daniella.
— So did the world.
Daniella stood shaking, exhaustion crashing over her—but her eyes were clear.
— They'll adapt again, she said.
Kaël took her hand.
— And so will we.
Above them, hidden behind clouds and steel, HÉLIOS recalibrated.
Phase Two had failed.
But the war had only just revealed its teeth.
And for the first time in centuries—
The Light had struck back.