CHAPTER ONE

...Sereia's POV...

“Stay down, Sereia. Stay alive.”

Fire. Again.

It always starts with fire.

I was seven the first time. Metal screamed. Glass shattered. The sky outside the shelter door was painted orange and wrong. My mother’s voice was the last soft thing I heard before the sirens swallowed it whole.

She shut the door. My father locked it from the other side. I pressed my palms against it until the vibrations stopped.

Since then, silence has never felt safe.

“Vexen.”

My head snaps up. The war table flickers in front of me, a map glowing across steel and shadows. Commander Lorenzo Venn stares like he’s been watching me drift for the last ten seconds. Maybe he has.

“You with us?” he says, voice rough around the edges, like always.

“Yes, sir.” I sit straighter.

He doesn’t comment. Just turns back to the map. He’s not the yelling type. He’s the you-should-know-better type.

I force the memory down, back into the place I keep it. There’s no room for ghosts right now.

“We lost Relay Station 09 last night,” he says, gesturing to a flickering zone on the outskirts of the Core Worlds. “Gone without warning. All signals severed. No survivors recovered.”

“Zayen?” Liri asks. Calm, steady. She always sounds like that, even when the world tilts sideways.

Venn doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.

A quiet pulse goes through our squad. We’re used to loss. Just not this clean.

“We’re deploying within the hour,” he continues. “Recon only. No heroics. If the Obsidian Veil left breadcrumbs, you bring them back. If they didn’t, you come back with your own blood still inside you.”

I nod automatically, my hand resting on the hilt of my emitter blade. Liri glances at me. So does Nael, who’s already muttering code into his wristpad. Tov mutters something to Elira, who rolls her eyes without looking up. The usual.

“We believe the Veil took something,” Venn adds. “Or someone. I want names.”

The meeting wraps up fast. No time for questions when the answers are classified. Just before I step out with the team, Venn calls out again.

“Vexen.”

I pause, hand on the door.

“You think too much,” he says. “That’s not always a weakness. But it can be a death sentence.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

He nods, just barely, and I step out.

As the meeting breaks, the squad filters into the corridor like a well-oiled machine with emotional damage.

The hallway’s quieter than usual. We walk in a loose line—Lirae beside me, Nael half-bouncing behind us, Elira moving like a shadow. Tov yawns like we didn’t just get assigned a mission that could kill us.

“Well, that wasn’t ominous at all,” Tov says, fake cheerful. “Just our standard ‘don’t die’ pep talk.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Elira mutters. “He could’ve smiled.”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” Nael shudders. “If Drax ever smiles, it means one of us just got vaporized.”

Liri falls in step beside me, hands tucked behind her back like always. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks under her breath.

“Yeah,” I lie.

She doesn’t push. She just nudges me with her elbow. “You’re terrible at lying, by the way.”

“And you’re terrible at letting me wallow in peace.”

“Exactly why I’m your best friend.”

Behind us, Tov is still complaining. “You know, I miss when our missions didn’t involve potential death by collapsing satellites or creepy assassin cults.”

Nael raises a hand. “Petition to rename the Obsidian Veil to Creepy Assassin Cult. Seconded?”

“Thirded,” Tov says. “All in favor?”

“Denied,” Elira cuts in. “I’m not risking Zayen hacking into my sleep mod and making me dream about snakes again.”

“Wait, he can do that?” Nael looks genuinely concerned.

“No, but you're dumb enough to believe it,” Elira deadpans.

I grin, listening to them bicker, and for a moment—just a sliver of time—it almost feels normal. Almost.

“Why does it feel like we’re always the cleanup crew for Zayen’s mess?” Tov mutters.

“Because we are,” Elira replies. “And because no one else can handle it.”

“Wow. That almost sounded like pride,” Nael grins.

Tov’s still ranting. “One of these days, I wanna meet this Zayen guy and just… talk.”

“Talk?” Nael asks.

“Yeah. Like, ‘Hey, man. Why all the drama? Therapy exists.’”

“Pretty sure Zayen’s the type to burn the therapist’s office down,” Elira mutters.

I laugh before I can stop myself. It slips out—quiet and real. And it lingers, even as the weight settles back in.

Because in this war, sometimes a laugh is the only proof you’re still human.

The laughter dies the second the lift doors hiss open.

Boots echo.

Sleek uniforms. Precision posture. A different kind of quiet follows them—the kind that carries weight, calculation, and unspoken authority.

Caius Kieran Thorne steps in like a walking storm. Sharp, unreadable, every movement refined like he was engineered for war. Which, according to the whispers, he was.

His squad fans out behind him:

— Thalen Vox, cold stare already locked on our group, hands clasped like he’s restraining judgment.

— Keira Noelle Strade, quiet, porcelain-soft, eyes downcast but... watching everything.

The rest trail silently, all edge, all discipline.

Of course it’s them.

“Wonderful,” Tov mutters under his breath. “The golden boys are here.”

“Correction,” Elira adds, not bothering to hide her disdain. “Golden weapons.”

“Don’t start,” I whisper, though I’m already gripping the data slate a little tighter.

Caius’ gaze brushes over us like a scan, lingering only slightly when it lands on me.

My breath holds. Just for a second.

He nods once, silent.

And keeps walking.

Commander Drax’s voice booms behind us. “Joint recon teams will be deployed. Coordination is key.”

Joint? Oh, stars.

The moment we’re dismissed again, Liri grabs my arm. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Joint with them?” Nael gapes. “I thought Drax hated us.”

“He does,” I sigh. “Apparently not enough.”

Tov glances over his shoulder. “I swear Thalen just scanned me like a threat. Should I be flattered or terrified?”

“Yes,” Elira answers.

Caius and his squad pause a few paces away, checking gear.

I feel his presence before he speaks. A low voice, meant only for me.

“Sereia.”

I turn.

“Watch your flank when we breach that sector. They target healers first.”

It’s not a warning.

It’s not kindness either.

It’s... something else.

I narrow my eyes. “Why do you care?”

He holds my gaze. “I don’t. I care about mission efficiency.”

Lirae snorts. “Wow. That’s the nicest almost-concern I’ve heard all day.”

Caius doesn’t react. He’s already walking away.

But Thalen throws me a side glance as he passes. “Try not to get in his way.”

Elira rolls her eyes. “Try not to step on your own ego, chrome skull.”

Nael stifles a laugh.

Tension hangs heavy in the air, unspoken but sharp. Oil and fire in the same room, pretending they won’t ignite.

And still... somewhere deep inside, a flicker.

This war is changing. And we’re walking straight into the storm—side by side with people who may yet become our greatest allies...

...or our downfall.

...----------------...

...END OF CHAPTER 1...

Emitter Blade – A plasma-meets-steel weapon used by elite units like Sereia’s.

Relay Station 09 – A communications hub that mysteriously went dark.

Core Worlds – Central, well-protected planets under Vanguard control.

Obsidian Veil – Rebel group led by Zayen; seen as terrorists by the Vanguard.

Vanguard Unit – Military force protecting the Core; includes Sereia and Caius.

Joint Recon – Missions combining squads from different branches. Usually tense.

Chrome Skull – Slang for emotionless, high-efficiency soldiers like Thalen.

Lumaether – A rare energy source powering weapons and tech.

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