Knowing Where to Stand
Meera took a final scan of the Archive’s systems as Skyline shimmered beside her, their filament-like appendages drawing the last of the reinforcements into place. The hidden sanctuary now pulsed with quiet strength, an unassuming fortress layered with precision and resilience. Lyra stood nearby, her hand resting lightly on the edge of a console, her expression a mix of exhaustion and thoughtfulness.
“It’s done,” Meera said, her voice firm but tinged with relief. “The safeguards are active. Even if someone finds this place, it’ll take more than brute force to breach it.”
Skyline’s threads twisted slightly in acknowledgment, their form glowing faintly in the Archive’s light. “Integration complete. Additional Creche monitoring protocols will remain active, in accordance with the parameters you’ve set.”
Lyra glanced at the console, where a map flickered briefly, indicating the wildfire’s current trajectory. She traced the edge of the console absentmindedly, her mind clearly elsewhere. “Victor won’t come for this place right away, will he?”
“He might,” Meera said, glancing at the map. “But not yet. He’s not subtle, and he’ll need time to maneuver. For now, he’s likely watching—waiting for us to act first. That’s why we had to make this impenetrable. Let him waste his time trying to control something that won’t let him in.”
Lyra nodded, though her unease lingered. The Archive was safe, but Ashvine felt exposed in comparison. “And if he does?” she asked. “Come for it, I mean.”
Meera gave a faint smile, her gaze hardening. “We don’t fight him directly. Not the way he expects, anyway.” She placed a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. “We’ll find his weakness and let him trip over it himself.”
As they made their way out of the Archive, the dry, acrid air of the Waste greeted them like a harsh slap. The wildfire’s distant smoke smudged the horizon, a reminder of the chaos that simmered constantly on this fractured Earth. Skyline flowed ahead, weaving through debris and crumbled structures, their form a luminous guide in the dim light.
Lyra broke the silence as they navigated the uneven terrain. “Do you think… do you think the Creche would’ve done something differently? Without us?”
Meera frowned, thoughtful. “Maybe. But that’s not the point, is it? The Archive needed us—human hands, human judgment. The Creche don’t work alone for a reason. We’re not here to be observers, Lyra. We’re here to keep this balance alive.”
The younger woman mulled this over, her gaze on Skyline, whose delicate threads seemed to absorb the wildfire’s distant energy, redirecting it like a careful weaver.
“I guess it’s just… Victor doesn’t care about balance,” Lyra said after a moment. “He’ll tear through it if he has to.”
Meera’s voice turned quiet, deliberate. “That’s exactly why we don’t face him head-on. His kind of power is always hungry, always rushing. We don’t have to feed it. We just have to make sure it has nothing to cling to.”
They moved onward, the growing shadows of the Waste stretching long before them. Ashvine lay ahead, a fragile haven in a world always threatening to crumble. The work there wasn’t finished. It never was. But for now, they had time—a chance to plan, to prepare, and to remember that survival wasn’t a matter of strength, but of knowing where to stand.