Night in the Isibindi jungle shimmered with bioluminescent light. Data-streams ran beneath the soil like glowing roots, illuminating the trees from below. The war camp pulsed with quiet life — warriors sharpening plasma blades, drones scanning the perimeter.
Tray sat by a small fire, calibrating his katana's energy cell. Every hum of the blade reminded him of the bridge, the fall, the Master's final words.
Lyra approached, her silhouette framed by drifting embers. She'd shed her battle armor for a lighter command suit — still sleek, coded with green lines that pulsed softly.
> "You don't rest much," she said.
Tray looked up. "Rest feels like a luxury for people who aren't being hunted by digital demons."
She smirked, sitting across from him. "You think too much like a rogue."
He tilted his head. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
She looked into the fire, voice quieter. "Rogues run alone. Lions fight together."
He studied her for a moment. "You really believe that?"
"I have to." Her tone was steady but distant. "The Kingdom's survival depends on unity. Fear spreads faster than corruption."
Tray nodded slowly. "Maybe. But fear's also what keeps you alive."
The silence stretched — not awkward, just alive. The firelight danced over her face, highlighting the steel and softness in equal measure. For a moment, she looked less like a soldier and more like someone still figuring out how to carry her own code.
> "You fought your own reflection today," she said finally. "What did it show you?"
"Everything I hate about myself." He gave a dry laugh. "But maybe that's good. Means I still know who I am."
Lyra's gaze softened. "Courage and fear are the same code, just read differently."
"Sounds like something my Master would've said."
"He must have been wise."
"He was," Tray said quietly. "And stubborn as hell."
Her smile faded slightly. "I envy that. I lost my mentor to the Rift years ago. He taught me the Lion's spear technique. Every time I fight, I wonder if he'd approve."
Tray leaned forward, meeting her eyes. "He would. You fight like you mean it."
Her breath hitched — barely, but he noticed. The air between them tightened, electric, the jungle's glow reflecting in both their eyes.
Before either could speak, alarms blared. Red light cut through the green glow.
> "Rift breach — west perimeter!"
Lyra stood instantly, spear manifesting from energy. "Move!"
They sprinted through the jungle, light flashing around them as drones reported corrupted entities approaching.
At the clearing, creatures of glitched code poured from the shadows — wolf-like forms twisted with red data veins.
Tray ignited his katana, stance low. "Guess the night shift's here early."
"Stay close," Lyra ordered. "Their bites spread corruption."
He grinned. "Don't get bitten, then."
The battle was chaos in motion. Blades cut through glitch-wolves, data splintering into shards of red light. Tray moved like a phantom — shadows bending with him — while Lyra spun her spear in brilliant arcs of green lightning.
At one point, a creature lunged at her blind spot. Tray caught it mid-leap, blade slicing it clean in two.
Their eyes met — hers fierce, his calm — an unspoken rhythm syncing between them.
> "We fight well together," she said, breathing hard.
"Guess I'm not just a rogue after all."
"Don't get cocky."
As the last creature dissolved, a heavy silence settled. The air smelled like ozone and ash.
But in the distance, deeper in the jungle, a faint crimson pulse throbbed — the Rift's true heart spreading underground.
Lyra touched her communicator. "King Raen, we've got movement in the lower grid. The corruption's digging toward the Core."
The King's voice came through static:
> "Understood. Fall back to the temple. We regroup at dawn."
They turned to leave, but Tray paused, glancing back at the fading red glow.
> "It's learning," he said softly.
Lyra followed his gaze. "Then we learn faster."
They walked side by side through the data-lit forest, the silence between them heavier now — not just battle-fatigue, but awareness. A tether had formed, invisible yet undeniable.
At the edge of camp, Lyra stopped. "You should rest."
Tray shrugged. "You first."
"I'm on watch."
He smiled faintly. "Of course you are."
As he turned to go, she called out softly, almost reluctant.
> "Tray."
He looked back.
Her eyes met his — green fire meeting violet shadow. "You did good today."
He nodded once. "You too."
Then he walked away, leaving her in the glow of the jungle. Lyra watched his silhouette fade into the light, a thought flickering through her guarded heart:
He's dangerous — but maybe not in the way I feared.
The jungle pulsed gently around her, alive with the rhythm of two warriors' destinies slowly aligning — code to code, heart to heart.