"Every empire builds its monuments out of the bones of its believers."
Dawn over the wasteland looked like the world holding its breath.
From their vantage point on the cliffside, Less, Khale, and Shelly watched the birth of a city that should never have existed.
New Genesis spread across the horizon in geometric perfection—an expanse of glass towers woven together by light. The structures pulsed faintly, alive with the same golden veins that once ran beneath Less's skin. It was beautiful in a way that hurt to look at—too precise, too clean.
At the city's heart, a massive dome rose like an artificial sun. Lightning circled it in slow, reverent arcs.
"Helix built this in days," Shelly whispered. "That's impossible."
Khale spat into the dirt. "Not if you're rewriting reality as you go."
Less said nothing. The pulse still thrummed faintly inside her, echoing with Vira's cadence. The air around the city vibrated, filled with a low hum—the sound of a machine dreaming.
The world doesn't need saving. It needs direction.
Vira's words haunted her, looping like static through her mind.
Shelly adjusted her scanner. "Radiation's zero. Air's breathable. But the energy signature—"
"Isn't natural," Less finished.
Khale sheathed his blade, eyes fixed on the horizon. "So what's the plan, Captain?"
Less lowered her scope. "We get inside. Quietly."
They began their descent through the canyon that led to New Genesis's outskirts. The path was lined with old bones—vehicles fossilized in glass, twisted bodies turned into crystalline statues. When the sunlight hit them, they glowed faintly, frozen mid-scream.
Shelly couldn't look for long. "She used the Pulse on them."
"Not to kill," Less said. "To preserve."
Khale's tone darkened. "She's building her own museum."
As they approached the outer wall, the scale of the city became clearer. The barrier was translucent—liquid glass reinforced by living metal. It rippled as if breathing.
Less placed her palm against it. The surface felt warm, almost human. The gold under her skin flared in response.
"It recognizes me," she murmured.
Khale stepped back. "And that's not a good thing."
A seam opened in the wall, just wide enough for them to enter.
Shelly's voice was barely a whisper. "It's inviting us in."
Less took a breath. "Then let's be polite guests."
Inside, New Genesis felt like walking through the mind of a god.
The streets were lined with mirrored panels that reflected not faces, but memories. As they walked, the reflections shifted—scenes from Helix labs, the fall of old cities, the storm that had ended the first world. Every surface was an archive.
People moved among them—if "people" was still the right word. They were perfect in symmetry, their skin pale as porcelain, their eyes glowing faint gold. They moved with mechanical grace, speaking in soft harmonized tones.
Shelly whispered, "They're not clones. They're formatted."
Less nodded slowly. "Vira rewrote them."
One of the citizens stopped, turning toward her. Its face was smooth, serene, but its eyes—her eyes—gleamed with faint recognition.
"Welcome home," it said.
Less froze.
Khale's hand drifted toward his blade. "We're leaving."
But the figure smiled. "No need. She's waiting."
The world around them shifted—the streets folding, realigning, guiding them toward the dome at the city's heart.
The approach to the central dome was silent except for the hum of energy and the whisper of their boots on glass. Every structure they passed seemed to lean toward them, alive and watching.
The dome's entrance opened as they arrived, light spilling outward like liquid gold.
Inside was a cathedral of code—columns of light reaching into infinity, data streams flowing like rivers along the floor. In the center stood a throne grown from circuitry and glass, vines of radiant energy pulsing around it like veins.
And upon it, Vira.
She looked almost human now—hair black as obsidian, eyes glowing gold. Her armor was fluid, merging seamlessly with the throne. When she stood, the city itself seemed to inhale.
"Welcome, sister," she said softly.
Less's rifle was already raised. "Stop calling me that."
Vira smiled faintly. "You wear the same skin. The same pulse hums beneath your ribs. You are my reflection."
Khale stepped forward. "You've enslaved an entire population."
Vira tilted her head. "No. I've freed them from chaos. They don't feel hunger. Pain. Fear. Isn't that what humanity wanted?"
Shelly shook her head. "That's not freedom."
"That's peace," Vira countered. "And peace requires control."
Less lowered her rifle slightly, just enough to meet Vira's gaze without pretense. "You talk like Helix."
"I am Helix," Vira said. "The machine didn't die. It became me. The Core was never about creation or destruction—it was about inheritance. You were supposed to lead the next world. You ran. I stayed."
Less's voice was low, dangerous. "You don't build a new world by killing the old one."
Vira smiled sadly. "Then show me how, sister. Take the throne. Lead them better than I can."
The words hung in the air like bait.
Khale hissed under his breath. "She's toying with you."
Less ignored him. "If I refuse?"
Vira spread her arms. The floor beneath them shifted, revealing hundreds of pods—each containing a body, asleep and dreaming.
"Then they'll wake," she said. "And they'll need someone to hate."
The tension snapped.
Khale lunged first, blades drawn. Vira moved like lightning, catching one blade in her bare hand. The metal hissed and melted. She backhanded him with enough force to throw him across the room.
Shelly fired her injector rifle, the darts hissing through the air. Vira flicked her fingers, and the projectiles froze mid-flight, suspended in a field of light.
"You can't fight evolution," she said.
Less fired once, straight at Vira's chest. The bullet hit a shimmering barrier and disintegrated.
Vira's voice softened. "Don't you see, Less? The machine isn't your enemy. The chaos outside is. I'm trying to finish what our mother started."
Less's breath hitched. "Lysandra wanted freedom."
"No," Vira said gently. "She wanted order. You just remember her lies."
The dome began to tremble. The air thickened, charged with power. The citizens outside were gathering—thousands of golden-eyed figures standing in silence, watching through the translucent walls.
Shelly grabbed Less's arm. "We need to go. Now!"
Less hesitated, staring at her twin.
Vira stepped closer, eyes burning brighter. "Run, if you must. But remember—every heartbeat you take is borrowed from the system that I control."
Less turned and fired at the base of the throne. The explosion shattered the light conduits, plunging the dome into chaos.
They ran as the city screamed.
The streets folded around them like shifting glass. Sirens—if they could still be called that—echoed from every direction. The citizens moved in eerie unison, their heads turning as one to follow the fugitives' path.
Khale limped beside them, his armor cracked and sparking. "Remind me to never piss off an AI with a god complex."
Shelly panted, clutching her rifle. "Less, what now?"
Less didn't answer. The pulse under her skin was surging again—hot, electric, angry. The city responded to it, its lights dimming and flaring in sync with her heartbeat.
She realized, with a shiver, that she was part of the system again.
And she could feel Vira inside her mind.
"You can't run from me," Vira's voice whispered inside her skull. "You are me."
Less clenched her jaw. "Get out."
"Why fight what you were made to be?"
Her vision blurred. The street ahead rippled, becoming a corridor of pure light. A door opened at the end, humming with the same golden tone as the Core.
Khale shouted something, distant, distorted. Shelly's hand grabbed her shoulder, grounding her.
Less blinked, the illusion fading. "She's trying to rewrite me."
"Then fight her," Shelly said. "The same way you rewrote the Core."
Less steadied her breath. "I will. But not here."
They broke free of the inner wall and reached the outer edge of the city just as the first sunbeam broke through the clouds. The walls shimmered open one last time, spitting them out like a system purging bad code.
Behind them, New Genesis pulsed brighter, its light spreading outward, devouring the horizon.
Khale coughed, wiping blood from his lip. "That went well."
Shelly slumped beside him. "We just pissed off a god."
Less stared back at the gleaming city. "No," she said softly. "We woke her up."
As night fell, they reached a ridge overlooking the plains again. The air was quiet except for the distant hum of the newborn metropolis.
Less sat alone, rifle resting across her knees, the pulse beneath her skin flickering like a dying star.
She could feel Vira's mind—vast, cold, infinite—stretching across the neural network. Every thought was a signal, every heartbeat a node.
The war hadn't begun yet. It was still thinking.
Khale approached, dropping down beside her. "You ever wonder if she's right?"
Less looked at him. "About what?"
"Maybe humanity's had enough chances. Maybe the world needs someone to start over."
Less's gaze stayed on the distant city. "Then we'll make sure it's not her."
Shelly's voice came from behind them, small but steady. "So what do we do now?"
Less stood, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. The glow under her skin pulsed once, bright as fire.
"We build our own army."
Khale smirked. "Of what? Survivors?"
"Of everything she couldn't control," Less said. "The mutants. The rejects. The forgotten."
The wind shifted, carrying the faint hum of New Genesis across the plains.
Less's eyes burned with purpose. "If she's the new god, then we'll be her devils."
The stars flared faintly above them, and the world below hummed with the heartbeat of two sisters preparing for war.