Chapter 17: The False Calm

The Harbor felt more fractured with every step Coza and Edna took. The veins running through the streets and walls glowed brighter now, pulsating with a rhythm that seemed to mock the storm above. The Titan’s roars echoed in the distance, but closer, the city itself was alive with its own kind of dread. Machines that once toiled in silence now stirred with uncanny purpose. Broken drones twitched back to life, their optics flickering like restless eyes. The air carried a charge, thick and heavy, as though the Harbor were holding its breath.

Edna led them through a series of winding alleys, her pace brisk and purposeful. She didn’t speak, her focus fixed on the path ahead. Coza followed, clutching the sphere tightly in his hand. Its once-steady hum was erratic now, each pulse sharp and insistent. It felt less like a guide and more like a warning.

Ahead, the alleys opened into a wide atrium. Glass walls lined the space, cracked and dirtied from years of neglect but still reflecting the veins’ golden glow. The floor was littered with debris—fallen girders, shattered tiles, and the occasional remnants of long-abandoned equipment. The light from the veins pooled here, creating patterns that shifted and spiraled like living constellations.

“What is this place?” Coza asked, his voice low.

“An old transport hub,” Edna replied without slowing. “The Harbor used to move people through these corridors like veins through a body. But that was before.”

“Before what?” Coza pressed.

Edna stopped abruptly, turning to face him. Her eyes were sharp, and for the first time, he saw a flicker of unease behind them. “Before the Harbor forgot what it was supposed to be.”

The atrium was eerily quiet. The only sound was the faint hum of the veins, their light reflecting off the fractured glass in waves that made the space feel otherworldly. Coza stepped carefully, his boots crunching against the debris. Every shadow felt like it was watching, every flicker of light a threat.

Edna knelt near a rusted control panel at the center of the atrium, her fingers brushing against the faded symbols etched into its surface. “These systems are dead,” she muttered, more to herself than to Coza. “But if the veins are still running through here…”

She trailed off, her hand hovering over a lever caked in grime.

Coza glanced around uneasily. The sphere was pulsing stronger now, its light dim but insistent. He could feel the energy in the air, crackling faintly against his skin. “What are you trying to do?”

Edna didn’t look at him. “The Harbor is layered. Systems buried under systems, like a web. If I can tap into one of the older nodes, I might be able to get us a way out—or at least figure out what’s waiting for us.”

Before Coza could respond, the control panel emitted a low hum. The veins running through it flared, their light surging upward in a cascade of sparks. The atrium trembled, the glass walls vibrating with the force of the energy coursing through the space.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Coza asked, his voice rising.

Edna didn’t answer. Her focus was fixed on the panel, her hands moving quickly across its surface. Symbols flickered to life on the cracked screens above, their meanings lost to time but their urgency unmistakable.

And then the lights in the atrium shifted. The veins dimmed slightly, their glow fading into a softer, more deliberate rhythm. The air grew colder, the oppressive charge dissipating like a receding tide.

Coza exhaled, the tension in his chest loosening. “Did it work?”

Edna straightened, her expression unreadable. “It did something.”

The atrium shuddered again, but this time the sound was different. It wasn’t the mechanical groan of an old system awakening—it was heavier, deeper, like the footsteps of something massive. Coza froze, his blood running cold.

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” he said.

Edna’s hand was already on her weapon. She didn’t reply.

From the far end of the atrium, the shadows shifted. Something moved beyond the fractured glass—a hulking shape, its outline blurred by the veins’ flickering light. It stepped into view slowly, deliberately, its form both familiar and alien.

The Warden was unlike the Heralds or the Titan. Its body was humanoid but distorted, its limbs elongated and plated with dark, shifting metal. Its head was featureless, save for a single slit that emitted a faint, pulsing light. The veins coursed through its body like molten rivers, their glow casting jagged shadows across the atrium.

Coza’s chest tightened as the Warden’s gaze—or what he assumed was its gaze—locked onto him. The sphere pulsed violently in response, its light flaring like a beacon.

“It’s here for the artifact,” Edna said, her voice tense. “And it’s not going to stop until it gets it.”

The Warden moved suddenly, its steps unnervingly silent for something so large. Coza stumbled back, the weight of the sphere almost unbearable now. The air around the Warden crackled with energy, the veins beneath its feet surging in time with its movements.

Edna fired her weapon, the shot striking the Warden’s chest. The energy blast rippled across its surface, but the creature didn’t falter. It raised an arm, and a wave of golden light erupted from its palm, shattering one of the glass walls in a deafening explosion.

“Run!” Edna shouted, grabbing Coza’s arm and pulling him toward the far end of the atrium.

They sprinted through the wreckage, the Warden’s presence pressing down on them like a physical weight. The creature moved with an unnatural grace, its limbs bending and twisting as it pursued them. Golden energy crackled in its wake, carving deep scars into the ground.

The veins pulsed brighter as they ran, their glow illuminating a narrow corridor at the edge of the atrium. Edna led the way, her movements precise despite the chaos. Coza followed, his chest heaving as he clutched the sphere tightly.

The corridor was long and twisting, its walls lined with more glass. The veins’ light reflected in strange patterns, creating the illusion of movement in every corner. Coza struggled to keep his focus, the sphere’s pulsing rhythm resonating in his skull.

Behind them, the Warden’s roars grew louder. The sound wasn’t organic—it was metallic, grinding, and filled with an unnatural fury. Coza risked a glance back and saw the creature’s form silhouetted against the glowing veins, its light growing brighter with each step.

“Keep moving!” Edna shouted, her voice cutting through his fear.

They emerged into another chamber, smaller than the atrium but just as foreboding. At its center stood a large, circular platform, its surface etched with symbols that pulsed faintly. The veins converged here, their light pooling in intricate patterns.

“This way!” Edna called, motioning toward the platform.

Coza hesitated, the sphere growing hotter in his hand. The air around the platform felt charged, the energy thick and oppressive. “What is this?” he asked.

“A gate,” Edna said. “It’s inactive, but if I can get it running—”

Another roar cut her off, and the Warden burst into the chamber. Its form was bathed in golden light, its movements faster and more fluid than before. Energy crackled along its limbs as it advanced, its gaze fixed on the sphere.

Edna didn’t hesitate. She fired her weapon, the shots striking the Warden but barely slowing it. “Get to the platform!” she shouted.

Coza stumbled forward, the sphere pulling him like a magnet. The symbols on the platform flared as he stepped onto it, their glow matching the sphere’s. The veins pulsed violently, their light spreading outward in a wave that filled the chamber.

The Warden hesitated, its movements faltering as the light engulfed it. Coza felt the sphere grow searing hot, its hum rising to a deafening pitch.

And then, with a sound like shattering glass, the light consumed everything.