The air in the fractured ruins was stifling, weighed down by the tang of ionized metal and an oppressive silence that buzzed in Ayla’s ears. She clutched her weapon tightly, scanning the darkened hallways of the derelict structure. Faint echoes of distant machinery pulsed through the walls, a grim reminder that their journey was far from over.
Beside her, Ravyn-9 stood tall, his glowing core dimmed to a faint pulse, as if he was conserving energy. His faceplate was uncharacteristically blank, devoid of the faint flicker of humanity she had come to recognize. It unnerved her. He hadn’t spoken since they escaped the ambush at Kael’s staging ground, and his silence was like a ghost haunting the space between them.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Ayla finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ravyn didn’t turn to face her. His voice, when it came, was low and measured. “It’s nothing you can help with.”