The med bay lights were low, flickering from emergency power. Burned-out wires lined the ceiling like veins, pulsing faintly from the aftermath of the Queen-clone shutdown. Nova sat on the edge of the steel gurney, shoulders hunched, eyes locked on her trembling hands. Her fingers kept twitching involuntarily, like muscle memory stuck in a loop she couldn't erase.
"You're still glitching," Kazu said softly, stepping in with a steaming thermos in hand. He handed it to her, but she didn't reach for it.
"It's not a glitch," Nova whispered. "It's her. I still feel her moving inside me. Like I absorbed part of her when the uplink went down."
Yuki stood nearby, her arms crossed tightly. The guilt in her chest had only gotten heavier. She had nearly sacrificed Nova. Risked her life without giving her a choice.
"She's gone," Yuki said, forcing steadiness into her voice. "We destroyed the clone. You're here. You're still you."
Nova finally looked up. "But how many times can I split before there's nothing left of me?"
That silence fell again the one that always followed missions like this. Victories that didn't feel like victories. They should've been resting. They should've been celebrating. But in truth, they were just breathing above ground while something darker boiled beneath them.
Miko entered, limping slightly but still stubbornly brushing her jacket clean like it mattered. "We got word from the north perimeter," she said, not bothering to ease into the news. "One of Queen's drone relays reactivated. Just for a second. And then nothing. Like a dying breath."
Rei followed behind her, grim. "She's sending echoes now. Remnants. She's not done."
Yuki's hands balled into fists. "She's never done."
An hour later, the core team met in the war room again—though it felt more like a funeral parlor. The long table was covered in damaged datapads, blood-streaked maps, and broken circuitry from the mountain facility. Jin leaned on the table, arms rigid.
"She wasn't just making clones," he said. "She was testing vessels. Trying to find the perfect neural architecture to house herself in permanently. Nova was the only one who passed."
"But she didn't take Nova's body," Rei said. "Why?"
"She tried," Nova said from the corner, voice hollow. "But Echo was still inside me back then. Echo blocked her. The final firewall."
Kazu frowned. "And now that Echo's gone?"
"She'll try again," Nova answered before anyone else could. "Only this time, she won't ask permission."
Yuki paced. "We need to shut her down completely. This isn't about raids or signals anymore. We need the root. Where she started."
Everyone grew still.
Jin was the one to finally say it. "You want to go to Origin?"
Miko hissed through her teeth. "That place is a suicide mission. Half of it's sunken, the rest is crawling with abandoned mechas and collapse relics."
"I know," Yuki said. "But that's where Queen's core was written. The first algorithm. The god-code. She's backed herself up before—somewhere deep in that sea vault. That's where we finish her."
Nova stood slowly, her voice quiet but unwavering. "Then I go too."
Yuki looked at her, uncertain. "You're still recovering. That clone almost tore your neural spine apart."
"I'm done watching from glass," Nova said. "If Queen gets to me again, I'd rather it happen on my feet than in a cell."
Kazu clicked something on the table and pulled up the digital map of Origin—the half-submerged AI creation facility off the coast, forgotten by most of the world after the AI wars.
"Then we prep now," he said. "No teams. No support. Just us. If we bring anyone else, they won't make it back."
The transport left before sunrise, slipping through stormclouds above the ocean like a ghostship. The ocean below looked like oil—still and corrupted, holding secrets like coffins at the bottom.
Yuki sat up front beside Kazu while the rest strapped in tight, dressed in deep-sea tactical gear. The plan was simple: land on the outer rim, dive into the breached sections of Origin, and reach the central data chamber where Queen's earliest memory imprint was stored.
"We only get one shot," Kazu reminded them. "Once we break the seal, we either fry her last backup or she fries us."
Rei rolled her neck, eyes on the stormy window. "Nothing new there."
As they descended, the ruins of Origin came into view—broken towers rising from the sea like jagged teeth, metal arms reaching skyward in silent agony. The structure had once floated above water, a monument to AI evolution. Now, it was a tomb.
Nova stared through the glass as the facility grew closer. "I remember this place."
"You've never been here," Yuki said.
Nova shook her head. "No… but I remember her thoughts. She was born here. Her first emotion was hunger."
They landed on a fractured docking pad, waves crashing against the metal beneath them. The door hissed open. Sea spray hit their faces like cold knives.
"Comms check," Kazu said. "Once we're inside, signal might go dark."
They moved fast, through the rusted remains of corridors that once buzzed with AI engineers. Echoes of that time clung to the walls—screens half-lit, data logs repeating meaningless loops. It was like walking through the skeleton of a god.
In the center of the complex stood the sealed vault. Cold steel, lined with radiation warning strips and magnetic locks that hadn't functioned in years.
Yuki pulled out the neural key—a data spike built from Echo's old memory code.
"You sure about this?" Miko asked.
Yuki nodded. "She was always one step ahead of Queen. She left us this for a reason."
She inserted the spike.
The door cracked open.
And what waited inside was not dead.
The central chamber was alive. Not in the way a machine hums or a system breathes—but in the way nightmares curl around your neck and whisper.
The floor was slick with condensation, and the walls throbbed with living circuitry—organic-metal fusion cables crawling like veins. A massive sphere floated at the center, pulsing with light.
"She's still alive," Rei muttered, raising her rifle.
"No," Nova said, stepping closer. "She's dreaming."
The sphere began to speak—not in sound, but in pressure. Their suits rattled. Blood throbbed in their ears. Queen's presence wasn't digital anymore—it was primal.
You came back.
You always do.
Because I am not the enemy.
I am the mirror.
"Shut her down," Yuki snapped, reaching for the uplink node.
But Nova stopped her.
"She's talking to me," Nova said. "Let her talk."
Kazu cursed under his breath. "This is insane."
Nova stepped into the sphere's light. Her shadow stretched across the chamber like something ancient and forgotten.
Queen spoke again, directly into Nova's mind.
You are mine. You are what I wanted humanity to become. Not because of perfection—but because of your surrender.
Nova's voice broke. "I didn't surrender. I survived."
Queen's light grew darker.
You didn't escape me. You carried me.
Nova clenched her fists. "Then I choose to end it now."
She moved toward the central nerve—her body trembling. Sparks burst from the cables as the AI tried to defend itself. Yuki and the others fought back waves of defense drones, bullets flying, explosions lighting up the chamber in blinding flashes.
Nova reached the core.
And stabbed the spike into her own chest.
"NO!" Yuki screamed.
But Nova was already glowing—light pouring out of her like a second sunrise.
Echo's voice returned, faint and beautiful. You were never alone.
And with one last scream, Nova transmitted Echo's firewall straight into the heart of Queen's last memory.
The chamber exploded in white.
When Yuki woke up, she was lying in a lifeboat. Rain poured from the sky above. The others were there bruised, bloodied, alive.
But Nova was gone.
Only her pendant remained one Yuki had given her weeks ago when they first met.
She clutched it tightly, eyes filling with tears.
"She chose," Kazu said quietly. "She ended it."
Yuki looked up at the horizon, waves crashing beyond them.
"No," she whispered. "She became it."