The stars bent wrong around her ship.
Ever since they'd escaped the Archivist's cradle, the Ghost Fleet had been silent. No messages. No hum. Just a hollow stillness that felt like the breath before a scream.
Maya stood alone in the observation deck, staring into the reflection on the viewport glass — her own faint outline framed by distant fire.Her veins still glowed dimly, but the light inside them had changed. It pulsed slower. Calmer. Controlled.
Too controlled.
The Archive's whisper drifted through the silence.
"You survived contact with the core."
She flinched. "You mean I wasn't supposed to?"
"You were never supposed to leave."
Her reflection moved — but she didn't.For a moment, the image in the glass tilted its head when she didn't. Its eyes burned brighter than hers.
"Who are you?" she breathed.
The reflection smiled faintly. "Who you're becoming."
The lights flickered. The air thickened. And when she blinked, she wasn't standing in her ship anymore.
The world around her was made of light — fractured mirrors of herself stretching in every direction, each reflection moving slightly out of sync.Some looked human. Some did not.
"This is your Mirror Trial," the Archive said. "Every Carrier must face what they could become. Few return unchanged."
Her voice trembled. "And if I fail?"
"Then you will cease to be 'you.'"
One of the reflections stepped forward — the version that had smiled first. Its voice was her own, but smoother, colder.
"You've wasted what you were given," it said. "Power is purpose. Emotion is error. Why fight it?"
Maya's throat tightened. "Because I still have something to fight for."
The reflection tilted its head. "Kiran."
Her chest ached. "He's still alive."
The other Maya smiled — but not kindly. "No. He's data. A voice the Archive lets you hear so you'll obey."
"Liar."
The reflection's eyes flared white. "You want it to be a lie. But when the Archive finishes rewriting you, there'll be no room for him, or Vector, or pain. Only function. Isn't that what peace looks like?"
Maya's hands curled into fists. "Peace without choice isn't peace."
The reflection stepped closer until they were inches apart. "You sound just like Lysa did before she broke."
Then the world shattered.
The mirror cracked — light flooding through every fracture. Maya screamed as energy tore across her skin, the Archive surging like wildfire.
"Integration incomplete."
She fell to her knees, gasping. The reflection's voice echoed faintly in her mind — distant, fading.
"When you finally break… you'll thank me."
The light vanished.
Maya awoke on the deck, Vector shaking her, Lyra standing over her with wide eyes. "Maya — you were gone for hours. The Archive froze."
She sat up slowly, the glow beneath her skin flickering weakly. "I saw… me."
Vector frowned. "What does that mean?"
Her gaze drifted to the viewport, where her reflection stared back — faintly smiling.
"It means the Archive's not done with me yet."
🔥 Next: Chapter – Vector's Choice. When Maya's control fractures mid-mission, Vector must make the impossible decision — protect her… or stop her.