They told her to wait.
She didn't.
By the time Idris and Milo were locking down mission protocols, Juno was already halfway across Zeta Grid, riding the pulse trail left by the Divider. It tugged at her like a thread in her chest, humming with increasing urgency the closer she got to the cratered ruins of Vault Nine.
The air was heavier here, dense with static and… something else.
Memory.
The vault doors stood wide open.
That alone was terrifying. Vault Nine had no physical locks. It only opened for a time-encoded signature—one burned into the very fabric of a Runner's chronosoul. The only person who could've opened it was Seth Vire.
Or someone with his mark.
Juno stepped into the dark.
Inside, the walls were engraved with names. Thousands of them. Faded, scraped over, and rewritten. She ran her hand across one line and watched it pulse faintly.
> Vire, S.
Phase-Runner: Black Sequence
Status: Redacted
The corridor twisted unnaturally, defying geometry. A left turn became a spiral. A downward slope snapped back into flat ground.
The laws of physics had been rewritten here. Maybe by the Forgotten Runners. Maybe by something worse.
At the heart of Vault Nine, she found a chamber filled with broken tech, shattered helmets, and… bones.
Not just people.
Runners.
And on a rusted pedestal, sealed in cracked glass another journal.
This one didn't shimmer.
It bled.
She reached for it.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Juno spun around, hand on her weapon.
From the shadows stepped a boy no older than her, dressed in a half-burnt Runner's coat with insignias she didn't recognize. His eyes glowed faintly gold.
"I've been waiting a long time," he said, smiling without warmth. "We all have."
She tightened her grip. "Who are you?"
He tilted his head. "The better question is who were you?"
And with that, the vault sealed shut behind her.