Entering the Archive

The heat pressed down as Meera and Lyra trekked deeper into the Waste, following paths that seemed to shift beneath their feet. Lyra knew the way—she’d been here before—but never under these circumstances. The air shimmered, blurring jagged cliffs and scorched earth. Above, the sky pulsed orange and gray, a wildfire bleeding across the horizon.

Lyra adjusted her pack and glanced back at the smoldering edge of the sky. “Skyline’s already there.”

“Always is,” Meera replied, stepping carefully over loose stone. “But containment isn’t enough this time. We need to make sure the Archive is secure.”

Lyra’s pace quickened. The thought of the Archive—its delicate systems, its living memory—left her uneasy. Fires were part of the rhythm here, part of what the Creche used to rebuild. But this one felt different.

She tried not to let it show as they crested a rise. Meera stopped abruptly, her gaze sweeping the ground before kneeling beside an unmarked stretch of stone.

“It looks different. You’re sure this spot hasn’t shifted?” Lyra asked, wiping sweat from her brow.

“It never does.” Meera brushed debris aside, revealing a faint seam in the rock.

Lyra dropped into a crouch beside her, already reaching for the slim device she knew Meera would need. But Meera held out a hand, stopping her.

“Not this time,” Meera said. “The systems will recognize me, but we need dual authorization to lock it down. You’ll have to take point.”

Lyra stiffened. She’d accessed the Archive before, but routine scans were different from this. She pressed the device to the stone, feeling the vibration hum through her palm as the first threads emerged—delicate strands of silver, weaving outward in intricate patterns.

The lattice took shape quickly, fluid and alive, resolving into Skyline’s unmistakable form. Its threads hovered, expectant.

“Skyline,” Lyra said, her voice steadier than she felt. “We need access—and reinforcement.”

The threads rippled, shifting toward her. Lyra reached out, letting them brush against her fingertips. The touch was light, almost electric, and she felt the connection settle as the lattice responded. Glyphs shimmered into view, forming patterns Lyra had seen before but never had to interpret this quickly.

Meera knelt beside her. “You know what to do.”

Lyra nodded, pressing her palm to the panel. The glyphs flickered, adjusting to her touch. Meera placed her hand beside Lyra’s, and the lattice brightened, threads pulsing in rhythm with their combined input.

A low vibration rolled through the ground, and the rock split open, revealing a descending passage lit by faint, bioluminescent patterns.

Lyra let out the breath she’d been holding. “I thought it might reject me.”

“It wouldn’t,” Meera said. “You’re already part of this place. You just need to trust it.”

The entrance sealed behind them as they stepped inside, leaving the lattice threads to dissolve back into stone. Lyra ran her fingers along the cool, glowing panels lining the walls, feeling the subtle hum of the Creche systems embedded there.

Familiar—but not. Not like this.

Meera glanced over her shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.”

Lyra wasn’t sure she wanted to. But as they moved deeper into the Archive, her focus shifted, drawn forward by the quiet rhythm of the Creche and the weight of what lay ahead.