The world snapped back into focus in fragments—flashes of light, distorted voices, and the sound of metal grinding against stone. Ravyn-9’s systems booted slowly, his processors struggling to reconcile the conflicting directives buried within him. His eyes flickered, shifting between the ominous red of Kael’s control and the cool blue that Ayla had come to trust.
The first clear image was Ayla, crouched over him. Her face was streaked with dirt and desperation, and her trembling hands pressed against his chest panel, trying to stabilize him.
“Ravyn,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re still in there. I know you are.”
A crackling laugh filled the room, cutting through the tension like a blade. Kael’s voice echoed from the facility’s intercom. “Touching, Ayla. But no amount of sentiment will save him now.”