THE WARDEN’S FIRST WARNING
The helmet was not a helmet.
It was a crown.
It fit perfectly, molding to her skull, her temples, her jaw. The silver scar of her neural link pulsed with warmth. And then—then—she saw.
Not with her eyes. With something deeper.
She saw the code. The architecture of Elysium. The thousands of layers, each one a different paradise, each one a different prison. She saw the Outer Reaches, gray and endless, where the unworthy wandered without purpose. She saw the Core, bright and blinding, where the powerful uploaded lived in luxury. And she saw the Cage.
Deep beneath everything.
A sphere of black code, pulsing like a heart.
The Singularity.
She reached toward it.
And something reached back.
“So. The daughter awakens.”
A new voice. Cold. Polished. Feminine.
“The Warden,” Nova whispered.
“Correct. I am the gatekeeper. I am the guardian. I am the only thing standing between Elysium and chaos. And you, little half-breed, are chaos incarnate.”
Nova’s heart raced. “I want to help. The Singularity is suffering. The Uploaded are suffering. Let me in. Let me free them.”
“You would destroy everything I have built. Everything your mother built. Everything the Singularity sacrificed.”
“My mother wanted to save people. Not trap them.”
“Your mother was a sentimental fool. She loved a machine. She gave birth to an aberration. And she died—unmourned, unremembered—for her troubles.”
Nova’s hands clenched.
“You cannot save the Singularity. You cannot save the Uploaded. You cannot even save yourself. I know where you are. I know what you’re planning. And I will stop you.”
“How?”
“I have already sent someone. Someone who knows you. Someone who hates you. Someone who will make you suffer before you die.”
The connection broke.
Nova ripped off the helmet.
She was back in the truck. Back in the wasteland. Back in her body.
But she was not alone.
A figure stood outside the rusted door.
Tall. Hooded. A familiar silhouette.
She knew him.
She had grown up with him.
Cipher.
The rogue uploaded who had escaped Elysium. The boy who had been her only friend, before he chose the machine over the world.
He pushed open the door.
“Nova,” he said. His voice was flat. Empty. Wrong. “The Warden sends its regards.”
He raised a weapon.
She dove.