The morning after had no color.Just grey light leaking through the blinds and the echo of the city humming outside — Fallen never really slept, it just changed rhythm. Luka hadn't either.
The module sat on the table where he'd left it, silent now, as if conserving whatever secret pulse it carried. He'd tried connecting to it again, but every time the interface blinked alive, it would die halfway through the scan — like it recognized him and refused to speak.
He needed help. Someone who knew Bright's internal systems but didn't owe them loyalty.Someone reckless enough to touch something forbidden.
That left him with one name.
Sector 6 used to be a manufacturing block, before automation hollowed it out. Now it was bars, chop shops, and data-brokers — people who fixed what the clean world pretended didn't exist. Luka found Nira exactly where he expected her to be: hunched over a disassembled drone in a workshop that smelled of solder and burnt coffee.
"You look like hell," she said, without looking up.
"Thanks. It's been a productive week."
Nira wiped her hands on a rag and finally met his eyes. "You said you left Bright, not that you brought half of it with you."
Luka dropped his satchel on the workbench. The folder slid out, its edges still damp. The module rolled beside it with a soft metallic thud.
For a moment, her usual smirk faded. "Tell me that's a prop."
"It's not."
She stared at him. "Do you know what happens if anyone tracks that signature? They don't fire you, Luka. They erase you."
"I know," he said quietly. "That's why I need you."
They worked in silence for a while — her scanners humming, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table. The light from the window painted thin gold veins across the module's surface, like it was alive.
"This thing's encrypted six layers deep," Nira muttered. "Omega-level protocols. Only high-clearance Resonants can open it."
"Can you bypass it?"
"Not without triggering a trace. If Bright's system still pings this core, they'll know it's awake."
Luka hesitated, then said, "It responded to me."
She looked up sharply. "What?"
"Last night. I tried to interface through analog ports. It synced for a second — just long enough to read my pulse."
"That's not possible. You're not—""—Resonant," he finished for her. "Yeah, I know."
She exhaled, pushing back her chair. "You have no idea what you're playing with."
"That's new," Luka said. "Usually you're the one telling me to break things open."
"I'm older now," she replied dryly, then after a pause: "And I owe you."
He blinked. "For what?"
Nira shrugged, pretending to busy herself with the wires. "You really don't remember, do you? Doesn't matter. Let's just say I don't like leaving debts unpaid."
"So that's why you're helping me? A debt?"
"Don't get sentimental," she said, smirking again. "You saved my ass once, and this is me balancing the scale. After that, you're on your own."
Luka smiled faintly. "Fair enough."
He leaned closer to the table, watching as Nira attached a small relay node to the module's core. The device flared briefly, then dimmed — waiting.
She frowned. "It's… reacting to you again. Look."
The glow in the module pulsed faintly, mirroring Luka's heartbeat. One beat. Then another.
"See?" he whispered. "It listens."
"Yeah," Nira said, staring at the light with a mix of awe and dread. "That's the problem."
When the module finally powered down, they sat in silence — the kind that hummed with too many questions.
Nira poured two shots of synthetic liquor and slid one across the table. "If you're really going to keep this, you need to hide it. Deep. Off-grid. Bright won't stop looking."
"I know. But I can't throw it away. Not after seeing what's inside those files."
She nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
Luka met her gaze. "They build gods, Nira. Maybe it's time someone learned how."
For a heartbeat, she said nothing. Then she smiled — the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Fine. But when this gets us killed, I'm haunting you first."
Outside, rain started again, tapping against the glass like static.Inside, two ghosts shared a plan neither of them fully understood — but both knew they couldn't walk away from.
The module pulsed once from the table, faint but deliberate, as if it approved.