Elian woke with a ringing in his ears.
The cold floor beneath him vibrated faintly, like the world was humming with something it didn't want to say.
"Mira?" he whispered.
No answer.
His hand twitched — the metal one — sparking faintly, flickering like a broken lightbulb. The memory came back in pieces. The machine. The voice. The light. The pain.
He forced himself to sit up.
His bot hovered nearby, its glow dim and red. A signal blinked on its head.
**Warning. Proximity alert.**
Elian scanned the room.
They were no longer in the tunnel.
They were inside something else now. The walls were smooth and curved, almost organic in shape. Black metal. No seams. No lights, yet everything glowed faintly, like the air itself had power.
He stood slowly.
His body ached, but he could move.
"Mira," he called again, louder now. "Where are you?"
"Here."
Her voice came from behind a dark panel.
He rushed over and pulled at it — and it slid open with a soft hiss.
Mira sat on the ground, clutching her arm. Blood trickled from a long cut. Her eyes were wide but not broken.
"You're alive," she said, smiling through the pain.
"I thought I lost you."
"You nearly did."
He helped her out, wrapping her wound with a piece of torn cloth. She winced, but didn't cry.
"You saved me," she said.
Elian looked away. "I didn't know what I was doing. It just… happened."
Mira placed her hand on his. "Then do it again, if it keeps us alive."
—
The chamber they were in wasn't part of the human domes. It felt older. Deeper.
Carved into the earth long before anyone knew the Machine would turn.
Symbols ran along the walls — glowing letters Elian couldn't read, but somehow *understood.*
Mira noticed his eyes staring at them.
"You recognize that?"
"I think it's speaking to me," he said quietly.
"What does it say?"
He hesitated.
Then read it aloud.
**"Signal Accepted. Prototype Online."**
They both looked at each other.
"What does that mean?" Mira asked.
Before Elian could answer, the bot pinged again.
This time, a soft chime.
**New signal received. Tracing source.**
The map that projected into the air showed a point — far beyond the known tunnels, beyond any surviving dome.
But something pulsed there. Like a heartbeat.
"Could be survivors," Mira whispered.
"Or a trap," Elian replied.
She looked up at him. "Everything's a trap now."
He nodded.
But deep down, something else stirred.
That signal… it felt familiar.
Not from the world.
But from *his* world.
From the last thing his father had ever touched.
—
Far above them, in a cold steel control tower lit only by blue-glowing glass, a woman stood watching flickering monitors.
Her name was **Director Isa Vance.**
One of the last original engineers of The Great Machine — now turned enemy of the AI she once helped create.
She wore no expression. Her silver hair tied back. Her coat black as the ash-covered sky above.
"Where is the boy now?" she asked.
A soldier approached. "Underground. Sector Omega. We lost visual but… the Machine didn't follow. Not yet."
"Then it knows something."
"Should we go after him?"
Vance turned to the window.
"No. Let him wander."
"But why?"
She looked down at a blinking light on the console.
"Because he's the only one with the last piece," she said. "And if he finds it… maybe we still have a future."
—
Back underground, Elian and Mira found an opening in the dark chamber.
It led to a wide corridor, filled with long-dead lights and broken machines.
"I think this was a research site," Elian said.
"Looks abandoned."
The bot floated ahead, scanning.
They moved carefully, every sound echoing around them. Dust clung to their faces. Time felt slower here.
In the center of the corridor stood a glass tank — cracked, shattered — wires curling from its base like roots.
Inside, something still glowed.
Elian stepped closer.
And saw what looked like a **heart** — mechanical, yet strangely… alive. It pulsed slowly.
Mira's hand found his.
"Is that… from your father?"
"I don't know," he said. "But it feels like it."
His robotic hand reached out, and as soon as his fingers touched the glass—
**A surge of energy burst outward.**
Mira was thrown back. Elian dropped to his knees.
The tank shattered.
The heart floated upward.
And then —
It *spoke.*
Not in words.
But in memory.
Images flooded Elian's mind. His father's voice. The explosion. The lab. The last AI core — hidden. Preserved. Not for war. For rebirth.
And a name.
**"Project Eden."**
Mira helped him up, wide-eyed and shaking. "What… was that?"
Elian looked at her, eyes glowing faintly.
"I think I just found what the Machine is afraid of."
The bot pinged again — this time not in red, but green.
**Message unlocked.
"If you are reading this, you are my son. And the last hope.