Chapter 6: Shattered

AZO Alpha Base- Worcester, South Africa

The sun was warm. Too warm. Ava leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder as the wind slipped through the curtains like a song.

Laughter echoed from the kitchen—her father humming off-key while flipping pancakes, her sister teasing him about burning them again. The scent of syrup. Butter. Safety.

It was one of those days where time forgot to move.

She turned, smiling at her sister, who was scribbling stars on the living room wall with a crayon. "I'm drawing where we came from," her sister had said. "So we never forget."

Ava reached to say something.

The moment shattered.

The sky cracked open, and everything turned blue.

Blue flames surged through the floorboards like veins, devouring everything. Her mother’s shoulder turned to ash beneath her. Her father screamed—but no sound came. Her sister turned slowly to her, eyes hollow, mouth moving in slow motion:

"You promised you'd save us."

And then—

Ava jerked upright, gasping.

The dream clung to her like smoke; she could almost smell the pancakes, hear her sister’s crayon scratching against the wall. For a moment she didn’t know where she was, if the ash under her hands was real.

Slowly, the room took shape—old brick walls, outdated generators humming, & the smell of bleach and alcohol. Her body ached, her throat dry, her heartbeat refusing to slow down.

A voice steadied the haze.

“Welcome back.”

Keith sat beside her, arms folded, slouched in a dented chair. His boots were muddy. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

When he saw her wake up, his shoulders relaxed just slightly.

“Welcome back,” he said. “You’ve been out for ten days.”

Ava blinked. “Ten—?”

He nodded. “We’ve got three left until the eclipse.”

Keith poured her water. She drank slowly.

“You collapsed during the fight,” he said, voice level.

 “Your vitals were dropping, and your essence was… burning out.”

Ava glanced at her arm. The mark—the one left by that creature—was still there. Faint, but pulsing under the skin.

“The spiritual energy in the region’s spiking,” Keith continued. “Cape Town especially. Essence storms have been brewing across the Western Cape. Something’s coming. We just don’t know what.”

A pause.

“And the others?” Ava asked. “The ones we fought—?”

Keith shook his head. “Nothing. No trace of the silver-eyed samurai. Or Aries.”

His jaw clenched. “But I don’t think they’re gone.”

The door creaked.

Maya stepped in, hair tied back, arms crossed loosely over her jacket. The weight of the last ten days sat heavy on her—more tired, more quiet.

“How’s she doing?” she asked Keith.

“She’s alive,” he said. “That’s good enough for me.”

Maya’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at Ava. “You scared us.”

Ava tried a smile. “Didn’t mean to.”

Maya stepped closer. “We’ve been recovering. Scouting. Avoiding surges. Christian’s outside.”

“How are you two holding up?” Ava asked.

Maya hesitated, then sat down at the edge of the bed.

She looked at her hands, then up.

“We fought someone who should have killed us.”

“The samurai?” Ava asked.

She nodded. “She was strong. Precise. Every movement was clean, rehearsed. But she… hesitated. Multiple times. She could’ve finished us. But she didn't .”

Her voice dropped.

“And that’s what scares me. Not that she was stronger—but that she chose not to win. Like he was testing us. Or waiting.”

Ava’s brows furrowed. “Waiting for what?”

“I don’t know,” Maya murmured. “But it made me feel weak. Like I wasn’t worth killing.”

The words hung heavy. Ava opened her mouth, then closed it. She knew that feeling—the kind you couldn’t train out. For a moment she just stared at Maya, throat tight, wishing she could tell her it wasn’t true. But all she managed was silence, and the silence said enough.

Keith stood. “Rest. Both of you. We leave at first light. If the eclipse is what we think it is… we’re out of time.”

He left the room.

Maya lingered. Her eyes flicked to the mark on Ava’s arm.

“That thing spoke to you,” she said quietly. “Didn’t it?”

Ava didn’t answer.

Maya nodded. “You remember something… from before. Don’t you?”

Ava’s voice cracked.

“Only in nightmares.”

Christian tightened the last strap on his armour and closed the magnetic clamps on his gloves. The room was quiet—just the sound of synthetic fibres stretching and the soft hum of a nearby energy converter. His spiritual essence flickered faintly. Restless & unsteady.

He exhaled slowly, sitting back on the bench in the gear chamber. The memory played out again in his mind: Megumi standing still, the samurai’s blade almost unseen, the ioi slash slicing through everything like flowing water. The precision & calmness. That overwhelming difference in skill.

He exhaled slowly, but the memory came anyway: Megumi’s calm blade & movements- how easily he had been swept aside.

Christian clenched his fist.

Ava did that once too... back at the academy.

It was a spar—one he was sure he could win. He unleashed Danger, all brute force and reckless energy. But Ava never flinched. She weaved through every strike like she was dancing, every movement fluid & surgical. And just when he thought he had her cornered, she locked him down with a spiritual tether and floored him. No rage, nor arrogance. Just focus.

But now, ten days ago, she had collapsed in front of him, essence burning itself out, her mark still glowing beneath her skin. She wasn’t unshakable anymore. And so was he.

 Twice now, he had been shown what real control looked like—and both times, he was left chasing its shadow.

And just like Ava at the academy, Megumi had made him feel like a child swinging at shadows. Strength wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

“You okay?”

Christian looked up. Matthew leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, his coat partially zipped and his gear half-prepped.

“Yeah,” Christian muttered. “Just running through the fight in my head.”

Matthew stepped in and closed the door behind him. “With the samurai?”

Christian nodded. “He didn’t even break a sweat.”

“Ahe wasn’t just skilled,” Matthew said, settling on the edge of the bench. “She was holding back. Every movement of hers was calculated. She knew exactly what not to do.”

“That’s what gets me.” Christian flexed his gloved hand. “It wasn’t power. It was clarity. Like she’d done it all before. Like we were just…” he trailed off.

“Training dummies?” Matthew offered.

Christian chuckled bitterly. “Pretty much.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Matthew added, “But they spared you. Ava, Keith, Maya—you. They didn’t need to.”

Christian looked up. “You think they’re not with the Order?”

“No idea. But that kind of discipline? That’s not something the Order is known for. They’re fanatics. She seemed... pragmatic.”

Christian’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Then why even be here? Why kill that village in Brazil?”

Matthew stood. “That’s what Miloslav wants us to find out. And if another surge hits Cape Town, we’re going to need more than just strength.”

Christian stood with him. “We need control.”

Matthew nodded. “And clarity.”

 

Helena & Evan’s Interlude

Helena sat hunched over the data table, her eyes moving quickly across the holographic reports projected above the glass. Strings of coordinates, spiritual frequency readings, and incident logs hovered in neat rows, all tied to recent disturbances across the Western Cape. Her fingers danced across the interface, zooming in on a flare point just outside Worcester. The essence signature was unstable—off the charts—but familiar.

She frowned.
Again… same pattern as Brazil.

Behind her, the door hissed open with a low beep. She didn’t need to turn.

“Evan,” she said flatly.

“Still got that sixth sense, huh?” he muttered, stepping in. His coat was dusted with travel and his boots were wet. He carried a duffel bag, tossed it beside the door, and wandered over.

“You’re late,” she added.

“I brought coffee & muffins.” he said, holding out two metal flasks. “Don’t say I never loved you.”

She gave him a half-smirk, taking one without thanks. “You don’t. And I like it that way.”

Evan grinned but his eyes quickly dropped to the glowing maps. “What’s the readout?”

“Spiritual essence surged three times over the last seventy-two hours. All within the Cape Fold Belt,”

 Helena said, swiping through a series of energy graphs. “Something is stirring underground—and it’s not tectonic.”

“The Order?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I’m not sure. It’s... not their usual signature.”

Evan crossed his arms, posture tight. “What does Miloslav think?”

“He hasn’t said anything.” she replied.

Then Evan asked, “You think Aiden knows anything?”

Helena’s hand stopped on the map. She didn’t look up. “If he does, he hasn’t told me.”

“Would he?”

She closed her eyes for a second too long. “He’s lied before.”

Evan exhaled sharply through his nose. “To the both of us.”

For the first time, she looked at him directly. His jaw was set, but his eyes carried the same ache she felt—betrayal wrapped around memory.

 

“You’re his brother,” she said softly. “You must’ve hated me.”

 

“At first,” Evan admitted. “You were the reminder of what he left behind. Of what I wasn’t.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Now you’re the only one who knows what it felt like when he walked away.”

 

Helena stared at him for a long moment. Then, almost against herself, she let out a bitter laugh. “We’re both pathetic.”

 

“Maybe,” Evan said, stepping closer. “But at least we’re not alone in it.”

“Don’t remind me,” she said.

Then Helena asked. “Do you believe in the Zodiacs?”

Evan blinked. “What?”

“You know. Aries. Gemini. All that myth crap we were taught in essence theory. That there are twelve of them... cursed warriors who fell from the Celestial Realm. They say they were once gods—now monsters.”

Evan scratched his jaw. “Well, we’ve seen a man split a mountain using nothing but his breath. And we fight creatures we thought were nothing but myths. So...” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be shocked.”

Helena leaned back in her seat, staring up at the ceiling. “When I was sixteen, I used to think the Zodiacs were just metaphors. That Aries wasn’t real. That it was just a name people used for war.”

“Until 1999 right?” Evan said.

Helena nodded. Quietly. “I never told Aiden that I used to believe they exist-Aries & the others. He always knew- or that’s what I tell myself.”

Evan didn’t speak. He just listened.

Helena turned back to the data. “We’ll find out soon enough. The world isn’t safe anymore. Not with the surge coming. Not with the eclipse.”

The maps flickered, a fresh spike flashing red across Cape Town. Neither of them moved. The surge pulsed on-insistent & inevitable.

Helena’s eyes lingered on it. “He’s still out there. Whatever’s coming… it’s tied to him.”

Evan’s reply was low, certain. “Then when we find Aiden—this time—we don’t let him walk away.”