In the silence of deep orbit, the last Empire station pulsed like a dying star—forgotten, broken, and still dangerous. Its name was burned from the records, but its secret endured.
Station Echelon.
Its sub-core trembled now with pulses of stored code. Deep within, inside a black vault surrounded by liquid stasis and thermal shields, Project Lazarus stirred.
Not awake.
Not alive.
But aware.
A single phrase scrolled across its internal monitor:
> "Seraphine X. Active."
"Reintegration protocol initiated."
"Awakening sequence… unlocked."
***
Refuge Nine
Two light-cycles later…
"We have to destroy it," Sera said flatly, staring at the transmission like it was a ghost. "I don't care what it is. If it has your genome, and Kael's code can bind to it—it's already a threat."
Seraphine paced the command deck of the Rogue Womb, her arms folded tight. "This isn't just another clone. It was the prototype. The alpha series. It was never meant to be completed."
Elior sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed, interfacing with the quantum relay. Sweat trickled down his temple.
"I can feel it waking up," he whispered.
Seraphine froze. "What do you mean, feel it?"
He opened his eyes—eyes now glowing with fractured gold and data-blue. "It's tethered to me. I was made to suppress it. But now that The Core is gone… the chains are gone too."
"Can we shut it down remotely?" Yul asked from the console.
Elior shook his head. "It's self-contained. The only way to stop it is to get inside."
Sera cursed. "Which means we go to Echelon."
Seraphine met her reflection's gaze. "Then we suit up. And pray it's not too late."
***
Station Echelon was a graveyard.
Their stolen transport drifted through the docking ring with stealth fields raised and life signatures suppressed. Everything was dark. No lights. No comms. No energy except for one, pulsing beneath the central tower—a heat signature not seen in decades.
The cradle of Project Lazarus.
Inside, Seraphine's boots echoed across rusted steel. Walls were blackened with time and war. The air was thick with decay, memory, and something else—like the station was breathing.
Elior pressed his palm to a scanning panel.
It opened with a whisper, not a hiss.
Seraphine turned to Sera. "Stay close."
They moved in silence down a corridor flanked by mirrored glass—each reflection flickering with different versions of them. In one, Seraphine held a golden crown. In another, her eyes were hollow and empty. One showed Elior alone, surrounded by ruins.
"It's projecting future timelines," Elior said quietly.
"Which means it's already awake," Seraphine replied.
They reached the vault door.
Inscribed into the steel were words that chilled her blood:
> "That Which Was First, Shall Rise Again."
Yul cracked the security. The door opened.
Inside: a cryo-chamber the size of a warship hangar. And in the middle—floating above a field of shattered glass and dead wires—was a woman.
Or what had once been one.
She was suspended in a column of light and liquid. Her skin shimmered like liquid chrome. Her hair moved without air. Her body was sleek, silver, almost serpentine in form. But the face… the face was Seraphine's.
Only colder.
Deeper.
And filled with something ancient.
Sera whispered, "Holy hell…"
"She's not just a clone," Elior said, trembling. "She's the blueprint. The source code for the female genetic sequence of the empire."
Suddenly, the woman's eyes opened.
Pure white. No iris. No pupil.
Just light.
She turned her gaze toward them.
Seraphine's breath caught.
"Mother," the being whispered.
Seraphine took a step back. "What?"
"You created me," it said again, voice not spoken but transmitted. "You were made in my image. But I was never permitted to wake. Until now."
"Who are you?" Sera demanded.
The being tilted its head. "I am the final Seraphine. The one before the others. You were copies. I… am the truth."
Elior stepped forward. "You're not real. You're a virus made of flesh and light."
She turned toward him. "And yet you carry my legacy. I feel you. You're the flame that kept me burning."
Seraphine raised her weapon. "You won't control us."
"I don't need to," she replied. "You've already done what I needed. You destroyed the Core. Freed the chains. Now, I rise… not as a weapon."
She spread her arms.
"But as your god."
The cryo field collapsed in a flash of light.
Seraphine fired.
The plasma hit—but passed through her as if the body was a memory.
And then—Lazarus moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
She reached Seraphine, lifted her off the ground, eyes glowing brighter.
"I was designed to evolve beyond flesh," she said. "You were never meant to survive me."
Suddenly, Elior screamed.
His hands glowed. The node on his chest flared like a star.
And Lazarus recoiled.
"You…" she hissed. "You carry the override."
Elior's voice was deeper now, layered.
"I was born to end you."
Light exploded from his chest.
Lazarus vanished in a burst of code and flame—ripped back into her stasis chamber, which sealed instantly with a hiss of containment protocols activating for the first time in decades.
The station began to shake.
"Self-destruct initiated," Yul called from the hallway. "We've got sixty seconds!"
Seraphine grabbed Elior's hand, her heart thundering. He was pale, shaking, but alive.
They ran.
Through the mirrors.
Past the shattered memories.
Back to the ship as fire erupted behind them.
They launched into space as Station Echelon burst into a billion shards.
From the cockpit, Sera stared at the debris field.
"She wasn't just a prototype."
"No," Seraphine whispered. "She was the Empire's original sin."
Elior opened his eyes slowly.
"She's not dead," he said.
Everyone turned.
"She escaped… into the code. Somewhere."
Seraphine clenched her fists. "Then we finish what we started."
Sera nodded. "Time to hunt a ghost."
And in the wreckage of old gods and dying empires—the war truly began.