The storm rolled in just past midnight.
Sheets of cold rain hammered the rusted roof of the abandoned railyard where Nate, Xanthe, and Nova had taken refuge. The safehouse—an old transit control station—was little more than cement, cracked tile, and a barely functional generator. But it was hidden. And, for now, hidden meant alive.
Nate stared out a broken window, watching lightning carve jagged scars across the Louisiana night.
His mind replayed Simon's words—Your father gave up this war.
The more he thought about it, the more it felt like a lie wrapped in truth.
Behind him, the terminal buzzed softly. Xanthe was running decryption cycles on the stolen data chip. Nova sat with a rifle in her lap, doing maintenance by feel and muscle memory.
"Anything?" Nate finally asked, not turning.
Xanthe didn't look up. "No full decryption yet. But I isolated a data fragment embedded in the header. It's an address."
Nate turned. "Where?"
Xanthe brought the file onscreen. Coordinates glowed in pale blue text.
Nova leaned over her shoulder. "That's near Shreveport. Middle of nowhere."
"Not nowhere," Nate said. "That's where my father grew up."
---
The Inquisitor Moves
Miles away, deep inside a Hollow military-grade command crawler, the Inquisitor received his target packet.
Nate's face appeared onscreen. So did Nova's. And Xanthe's. Color-coded threat ratings. Last known position. A flashing icon labeled "PROJECT VESPER: ASSET RETRIEVAL—PRIORITY 1."
The Inquisitor said nothing.
He reached to the rack behind him, selecting a long-barreled kinetic launcher and a slender box marked SUB-VOCAL CANCELLER. He clipped it to his throat.
A Hollow handler watched him from the corner of the room, clearly nervous. "Command wants them alive if possible."
The Inquisitor turned. Just slightly.
The handler swallowed. "But... of course, discretion is authorized."
The Inquisitor stepped into the corridor. Within seconds, the crawler was rerouting course, heading toward Shreveport.
---
The Ghost Vault
The next morning, Nate drove a rusted black off-grid crawler up an overgrown fire trail just past the Sabine border. The storm had left the air thick and wet, the ground soft under tires. Xanthe rode shotgun, map in hand. Nova sat in the rear, half-asleep, one hand on her rifle.
"I thought this place didn't exist anymore," Nate said. "It was just a story my dad used to tell. Called it the Ghost Vault."
"Sounds cheerful," Nova muttered.
"Supposedly built during the second Cold War," Nate continued. "Hidden inside a civilian cemetery, because no one likes poking around the dead."
They arrived at the edge of a sprawling graveyard, the stones crooked and moss-covered. A wrought iron gate hung open. Beyond it, wildflowers and cracked headstones stretched into silence.
Xanthe double-checked the coordinates. "We're here. Or close."
They walked among the graves, reading names—Wilder. Costin. Monroe.
Nate stopped cold. "Here. This one."
The headstone was for Nathaniel Ellison Sr.—his father. But Nate knew for a fact his father had been buried in New York.
He knelt beside the stone. Pressed his hand to the soil. Nothing.
Then he tapped the top of the stone three times.
It clicked.
With a mechanical whine, the grave slid back, revealing a dark shaft just wide enough for a person to descend. A narrow ladder disappeared into blackness.
Nova whistled. "Creepy."
"Welcome to the Vault," Nate said.
---
Inside the Vault
The shaft led thirty feet down into a reinforced bunker, long abandoned. The air smelled of dust and ozone. Old halogen lights flickered weakly as Xanthe re-routed power from her backup cell.
They emerged into a corridor lined with blast-proof doors and magnetic locks.
At the end was a small command room. Terminals. Maps. Files. Shelves of data drives. A holo-table still functional, though dim. Nate approached it slowly.
His father's handwriting was scrawled on a whiteboard along the far wall.
Mathematical formulas. Strings of code. Notes like "Guilt is not a compass."
At the bottom: VESPER must never be completed.
Nate touched the board gently.
Nova walked the perimeter, checking for signs of intrusion. Xanthe began plugging in the chip again.
"This place is a time capsule," she said. "Your dad must have run simulations down here. Look—these logs show projections. Counterfactuals."
"Meaning?" Nate asked.
"Alternate histories. If VESPER were activated in 2004... 2012... 2020. What it would do. Who would live. Who would disappear."
Nova froze. "Wait. Are we on the list?"
Xanthe scrolled. "You are. Both of you. Projected to be alive and dangerous. Nate—your father predicted you'd seek out the code."
Nate stared. "Why would he prepare for that?"
Xanthe looked at him. "Maybe because he knew someone would come looking."
---
Footsteps in the Graveyard
Above, the cemetery was no longer silent.
The Inquisitor moved like smoke—soundless, unseen. His sensor array picked up the energy pulse from the Vault's hidden entrance. He paused at the fake headstone. Scanned it.
Life signs below. Three of them.
He activated his comms. "Target located. Initiating breach."
The handler's voice crackled back. "Wait for support."
The Inquisitor turned off the comms.
And dropped a small sonic grenade into the shaft.
---
Breached
Inside the Vault, the floor shook. Dust exploded from the ceiling. A deafening shriek pulsed through the air—screaming harmonics that slammed into their skulls.
"MOVE!" Nova grabbed Xanthe, shoving her under a steel desk.
Nate pulled a secondary shield panel down over the entrance tunnel.
Too late.
The Inquisitor dropped into the room like a shadow, his weapon already rising. His armor shimmered, refracting light. No face. No insignia.
Nate dove behind a console as a kinetic blast punched a crater in the wall. Nova returned fire, but the shots deflected off his shield array.
"He's Hollow elite!" Xanthe yelled. "EMP—go for the joints!"
Nate yanked a pulse-dart from the emergency case. "Buy me two seconds!"
Nova rolled to cover. "One!"
Xanthe activated a flashbang.
"Two!"
Nate stepped out and fired the dart. It struck the Inquisitor's shoulder. Sparks erupted. His right arm twitched—but didn't drop.
Then he moved.
Too fast.
He backhanded Nate across the room. Slammed Nova into a console. Grabbed Xanthe by the throat and lifted her—
Until she jammed a stun rod into his armpit.
He dropped her.
Nova came up behind him with a heavy pipe and slammed it into the back of his head.
It cracked. Not the pipe—the helmet.
The Inquisitor staggered. Looked directly at Nate.
And spoke.
"You are incomplete."
Then he activated a recall beacon and vanished in a pulse of blue light.
Gone.
---
Aftermath
The Vault was wrecked. Half the data drives fried. The ladder tunnel crushed.
But they were alive.
Xanthe sat on the floor, catching her breath. "He wasn't trying to kill us. He was measuring us."
Nova wiped blood from her forehead. "Next time, I'm shooting first."
Nate stared at the dented wall. "He said I'm incomplete."
Xanthe stood. "That's a message. He knows you're missing the rest of the code. They're baiting you."
Nate pulled himself up. "Then we'll take the bait. But on our terms."
Nova raised an eyebrow. "What's the plan?"
"We find the other keystones. Before Hollow does."
Xanthe nodded. "I think I know where to start."
Nova cracked her neck. "Good. Because I'm itching to finish what we started."
---
In the Shadows
Back in the Hollow crawler, the Inquisitor removed his helmet.
His face was scarred. His eyes, cybernetic. And in the mirror... he looked exactly like Nathaniel Ellison Sr.
Only older.
He spoke into a secure line.
"Phase One complete. He's taken the Vault. Activated the sequence. The bloodline failsafe is working."
A voice on the other end replied coldly: "Good. Let him believe he's free. We'll tighten the net when he reaches the Source."
The Inquisitor's eyes flickered. "And the girl?"
"Leave her. For now."
He smiled. A grim, tired smile.
Then turned off the lights.
---