The coastal warehouse loomed under a foggy 2025 dawn, waves crashing nearby.
Tylor crept through shadows, arm healed, Elena's journal in his pocket.
Amaira stayed close, pigtails neat, flashlight dim, drawing safe inside coat.
Kayla held the drive, leg better, green eyes fierce, dreams buzzing faintly.
Elias guarded Clara outside, her gray eyes sharp, hiding Architect's secrets.
Rusty crates hid a spiral mark, glowing soft on the concrete floor.
Amaira's small hands found a hatch, "Down there!" her voice a whisper.
Kayla's drive showed a fracture machine below, Architect's final trick ready.
They dropped into a dark room, violet fracture humming by a console.
A hooded Architect laughed, "You're mine," voice cold, trap springing fast.
Drones buzzed, beams flashing, Tylor swung his pipe, smashing one hard.
Kayla hacked the console, drive sparking, fracture flickering, "Shut it down!"
Amaira threw a bolt, hitting a drone, her courage shining bright.
The Architect vanished, console burst, fracture closed, warehouse shaking wildly.
Tylor hugged Amaira, Kayla's hand warm, Architect's trap broken, hunt alive.