The Weight of Shadows

The day had grown long, and the sun dipped lower, casting deep amber hues across the clearing. Lyra sat by the workbench, her tools laid out with precision, but her hands remained still. Meera was nearby, pacing, her movements quick and agitated as though she could outrun her thoughts.

“Do you think he knows?” Meera asked suddenly, her voice breaking the quiet.

Lyra looked up. “Knows what?”

Meera stopped and turned toward her, her face pale but her eyes sharp. “About the Archive. About what we’ve been doing with the Creche.”

The question hung in the air like an unspoken accusation. The Archive was their most closely guarded secret, a repository of everything they had managed to salvage from humanity’s broken history—its stories, its technologies, its mistakes. And its truths.

Lyra sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t know what Victor knows. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He’s always been good at keeping his cards close.”

Meera crossed her arms. “Too good.”

Victor had been a name in whispers long before he was a face in their lives. A former leader in the reconstruction efforts, he had a reputation for charm and ruthlessness in equal measure. Some said he had walked away from his post after a schism over ethical boundaries, others that he had been forced out. What remained consistent in the stories was his ability to command loyalty and his penchant for pushing the limits of what was possible, even if it meant bending—or breaking—the rules.

For Meera, the stories weren’t just rumors. She had seen him in action, years ago, when she had been assigned to one of his outposts. Back then, Victor’s vision of rebuilding had seemed inspiring: efficient systems, innovative designs, promises of a brighter future. But the cracks had shown early, in the way he spoke about people as though they were resources, about resources as though they were expendable.

She shuddered at the memory, her mind snapping back to the present.

Lyra, for her part, had always been more cautious in her judgments. She didn’t share Meera’s personal history with Victor, but she didn’t need to. She had spent too much time rebuilding fragile ecosystems alongside the Creche to trust anyone who sought power for its own sake.

She picked up one of her tools and turned it over in her hands, its weight grounding her. “He’s not here to help, is he?” she asked quietly.

Meera shook her head. “He’s here to take something. I don’t know what, but it’s something.”

Lyra bit her lip. “If he learns about the Archive…”

Meera didn’t let her finish. “We can’t let him.”