Korrath's fortress buzzed with celebration—fires roaring, drums pounding, warriors shouting victory into the night—but beneath it all, something felt wrong. Too many shadows where there should have been light. Too many eyes that looked away when she noticed them watching.
She moved through the lower corridors alone, boots echoing softly against stone and metal. The Ark's systems were integrated into Korrath's defenses now, partially at least, and Lyra had insisted on overseeing the data links herself. Trust was earned, not assumed.
Her wrist console flickered. A signal request. Narrow-band. Encrypted.
Lyra frowned. "That's not one of ours."
The signal pulsed again—short, precise, almost polite.
Against her better judgment, she accepted.
A voice slid into her ear, distorted but calm. "Lyra Vale. You are difficult to track. That speaks well of you."
Her hand went to her weapon instantly. "Who is this?"
"A friend," the voice replied. "For now."
Lyra stopped walking. "You have five seconds before I trace this and shut it down."
A soft chuckle. "You won't. The relay you're using routes through your own Ark. Impressive system. Old, but elegant."
Lyra's blood went cold.
"Listen carefully," the voice continued. "Kael Ardyn is in danger. Not the dramatic kind. The slow kind. The kind that rots everything he's trying to build."
Lyra clenched her jaw. "If this is a threat—"
"It's a warning," the voice interrupted. "Meet me at the old refinery sector. Alone. If you bring anyone, if you alert Veyra, Havenreach burns."
The channel cut.
Lyra stood frozen, heart hammering.
It was a trap. She knew that. Every instinct screamed it.
And yet…
They knew about the Ark. About Havenreach. About Kael.
She exhaled slowly and made her decision.
Kael was in Veyra's war chamber when the first warning reached him.
A sudden spike in Ark telemetry. A ghost signal pinging internal systems—then gone.
"Lyra?" he said, already moving.
No response.
His pulse thundered in his ears. "Taren—track her."
Taren's fingers flew across the console, expression darkening. "Signal interference. Clean. Professional."
Kael slammed his fist against the table. "Shadowhands."
Veyra looked up sharply. "What's happening?"
"They've gone after her," Kael said, already grabbing his rifle. "This is my fault."
Taren's voice was cold. "No. This is the Council's move. And they planned it well."
Veyra swore under her breath. "If they touch her inside my walls—"
"They won't want her dead," Taren said. "They want leverage."
Kael was already heading for the door. "Then they won't get it."
The refinery sector was a graveyard of rust and silence. Towering stacks loomed like skeletons, pipes hissing faintly as steam bled into the air.
Lyra moved carefully, every sense alive. Her weapon was drawn, her breathing controlled.
"You came," the voice said, no longer distorted.
A figure stepped into the dim light—black armor, matte and seamless, a mirrored mask reflecting Lyra's own tense face.
"Shadowhand," Lyra said flatly.
The figure inclined its head. "Ashen sends her regards."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "Then tell Ashen she picked the wrong target."
"On the contrary," the Shadowhand replied. "You are exactly the right one."
Movement flickered at the edges of her vision—more figures, surrounding her without sound.
The lead Shadowhand spoke again. "You love Kael Ardyn. That makes you valuable."
Lyra raised her weapon. "Take one more step and I kill you."
"You won't," the assassin said calmly. "Because if you do, Havenreach dies."
A holo-projection flared to life between them. Havenreach. Its docks. Its people. Red targeting overlays blinking into place.
Lyra's breath caught.
"Choose," the Shadowhand said softly. "Come with us, quietly, and the station lives. Or resist—and watch everything he built collapse."
Lyra's fingers trembled—not with fear, but with fury.
Somewhere, Kael was coming. She knew it. She felt it.
But if he arrived now, this would become a massacre.
Slowly, Lyra lowered her weapon.
"I'll go," she said. "But if you lie—"
The Shadowhand stepped back. "Then Ashen keeps her word."
Energy cuffs snapped around Lyra's wrists, humming softly as they locked.
High above the refinery, hidden among the towers, Ashen watched through a distant feed.
"Good," she murmured.
The blade had found its mark.