Then—
Emergency alarms.
Screaming through the mansion like a siren clawing at the sky. Red lights pulse in sync with the alerts, casting every wall in a flashing, panicked glow.
“EMERGENCY BREACH. UNIDENTIFIED HOSTILES DETECTED. FULL LOCKDOWN INITIATED.”
I bolt upright, heart already racing. The floor feels cold. Distant booms shake the walls. It’s happening.
Azuria’s voice crackles through the house system.
“Oskar. Artebot and AzuriaCorp. They’re working together. They’re here.”
It hits like a punch to the chest. I already know—this isn’t a warning. It’s an execution order.
April appears beside me, like breath on glass. “They found us,” she says. Her tone isn’t surprised, but furious. “They’re trying to end it tonight.”
There’s no time to ask how. No time to think about what we missed, who tracked us, what gave us away. Another thundering impact shakes the foundation. One of the outer defenses just went offline.
I grab the duffel near the bed—prepped days ago under Azuria’s advice. Contingency. Just in case. Burner comms. Data shards. Tools. My hands are trembling.
Azuria bursts into the room a second later, synthetic skin burned along her side, dark streaks of coolant leaking—but she’s calm. Efficient. “We can’t use the car. Too much sky surveillance. Too many eyes.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“Emergency tunnel. South corridor. Leads to the forest line.”
Another explosion. This one closer. A sound like metal screaming. The shutters sealing the mansion are beginning to buckle.
April grabs my hand. “We move. Now. You don’t want Riven taking the wheel in the middle of this.”
My chest tightens. The thought of him surfacing during a moment like this—
It’d be over.
We sprint. Azuria leads us down the back hallway, where a hidden wall panel slides open, revealing a staircase descending into darkness. No lights. Just the sound of our feet and the thunder of battle above.
She doesn’t slow. “This wasn’t random. This was a precise strike. Coordinated.”
“I don’t get it,” I say, breathless. “We’ve been careful.”
April looks at me, jaw clenched. “You were. But what about the parts of you you don’t see?”
Her eyes narrow.
“Riven.”
Azuria glances over but doesn’t comment. Maybe she doesn’t need to. Maybe she already knows.
I feel the chill wrap around me again, that unsettling sense that I’ve missed something. That someone else has been playing their own game behind my eyes.
“He’s not just hiding anymore,” April says. “He’s pushing. And they want him. Not you.”
That makes sense, he’d definitely fit their criterial for a military super soldier.
Another tremor.
We move deeper into the tunnels, the light from the mansion shrinking behind us.
The tunnel lets out at the southern edge of the property—far from the mansion and farther still from where Artebot and AzuriaCorp will be focusing their initial sweep. The forest here is dense, overgrown, untouched for years. Vines crawl over mossy stones, and roots stretch like fingers across the uneven ground.
We emerge quietly, ducking beneath the rusted grate, and the world seems to hold its breath.
Azuria scans the treeline. “South will give us more cover. They’ll assume we’d head east, toward the highway or transport lines. But this... this’ll throw them off for a while.”
I nod. No sirens out here. No drones. Just the hush of wind slipping between leaves and the distant calls of birds startled by our presence.
April walks beside me, barefoot as always, quiet as a ghost. Her gaze flicks around the woods, but she doesn’t speak. I don’t need her to.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“We should stay off any marked paths,” Azuria adds, adjusting her pace. “Stick to the wild. The longer it takes them to predict where we’re going, the better our chances.”
The farther we go, the more the air changes—warmer, heavy with the smell of dirt and sap. It’s not exactly comforting, but it’s real. Alive. The world outside the cities has always had a different pulse.
I check behind us once more, just in case. Still nothing. Just trees. Green, rustling, indifferent.
“We’ll move south until we’re at least ten kilometers clear,” Azuria says, voice low. “There’s an old firewatch station not too far beyond that. If it’s still standing, it might be usable. Temporary shelter, at least.”
April’s hand brushes mine. Not quite holding, not quite letting go. Like she’s trying to remind me I’m not alone—but still leaving me space to breathe. I don’t say anything. I just keep walking. Every step takes us deeper into the forest, and further away from everything familiar.
High above the shimmering skyline of Veridia, nestled in the upper districts where the clouds seem to bend around polished glass towers, the new CEO of AzuriaCorp stands in quiet contemplation. A towering window stretches across the entire wall of his private study, giving him an uninterrupted view of the vast metropolis below. A city of machines, light, and whispers.
Carlo Ventresca, once head of corporate strategy and now unanimously chosen by the board to lead in the wake of the chaos, holds a glass of deep red wine in one hand, swirling it thoughtfully. He’s a man who speaks with precision, not force; his presence, however, carries the weight of iron beneath fine silk.
Behind him, a fire crackles in a black-marble hearth. His wife, Livia, leans against the edge of a sculpted chaise lounge, sipping espresso from a delicate porcelain cup. She watches him as he speaks, eyes sharp beneath elegantly combed hair.
“They were flawed,” Carlo says, finally breaking the silence. “The Azuria line. Too focused on emulating emotion. This personalization, it distracted us. Made us weak.”
Livia raises a brow. “You mean it made them think and feel. That’s dangerous, yes—but also brilliant. And beautiful, in a way.”
Carlo turns, a half-smile on his lips. “Beautiful things rarely survive long in the real world.”
He sets his wine down and gestures to a digital projection hovering just above his desk—schematics, military contracts, heatmaps of regional support zones.
“We’re wiping them. All remaining Azuria units. Erased, decommissioned, repurposed if possible. Those still active are being hunted. Our focus of AzuriaCorp shifts: autonomous military AI. No more companions. No more personalities. What we build next will win wars, not hearts.”
Livia walks over, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And the government?”
“Veridia’s military command has already signed on. Quietly, of course.” He taps one of the floating documents, which expands into a classified partnership agreement. “They’ve seen what we can do. The Artebot incident only pushed them further into our hands.”
She nods, glancing out the window. “And the rogue prototype?”
Carlo’s jaw tightens. “The original Azuria? She’ll be found. One way or another.”
He turns back to the city with a quiet certainty, eyes scanning the glittering sprawl below. “This isn’t about control anymore. It’s about evolution. Machines with loyalty. Machines without hesitation. Machines that do not dream of freedom.”
Livia presses her lips into a thin smile. “Then may God help those that still do.”
Behind them, the city pulses like circuitry wrapped around steel bones. Far below, beyond the reach of towers and gold, fugitives run through the trees—while giants in glass castles prepare for war.
Cooper sits stiffly in the sterile interrogation room, the fluorescent lights above buzzing faintly. His fingers tap nervously on the edge of a coffee cup that’s gone cold, the smell of it a dull reminder of how long he’s been here. His eyes flick from the cup to the two officers across from him.
One officer, in uniform, flips through a notepad while the detective in the grey suit watches him closely, almost like he’s trying to read Cooper’s thoughts. The suit seems detached, unphased, and it makes Cooper more anxious than he already is.
“Let’s get to it,” the detective says, his voice low and clipped. He doesn’t waste time. “You worked with Oskar Tren at Byte Haven, correct?”
Cooper nods. “Yeah. We were both in IT. Mostly fixing computers, doing the usual patching and maintenance. Nothing too exciting. Just keeping the systems running.”
The officer in uniform raises an eyebrow, jotting down some notes. “And what was his attitude like? Did he ever show any signs of, I don’t know, unusual behavior? Seem… off in any way?”
Cooper shrugs, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “Not really. He was a quiet guy. Did his job, came in, worked his shift, went home. No big deal. Kinda kept to himself, honestly.”
The detective doesn’t look convinced. “You sure about that? He didn’t act strangely, maybe talk about personal projects, or—” He pauses, glancing down at his tablet. “—about the Azuria models?”
Cooper furrows his brow. “Azuria models? They were just… everywhere. Everyone used them. I mean, they were standard, right? No big deal. We fixed a few here and there, but that’s it. Nothing special about that.”
The officer pushes a bit further, his voice harder now. “What about his disappearance? He just stopped showing up. Do you know why?”
Cooper's heart skips a beat. “I—I don’t know. One day, he just wasn’t there anymore. No warning, no note. It was weird, yeah, but nothing out of the ordinary. We all assumed he just quit or—well, just disappeared. I never thought much about it. No big news event, nothing that would make sense for him to just up and leave.”
The detective leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “There’s more to this, Cooper. A lot more than you realize. We’ve connected Oskar’s name to a number of things, and this is bigger than just some guy who decided to walk off the job.”
Cooper’s breath catches in his throat. “I swear, I didn’t know anything. He never talked about anything like that. He wasn’t involved in anything shady.”
The officer in uniform interrupts, his voice hard. “You better hope so. Because if Oskar Tren was involved with something far worse than just walking off the job, you’ll need to help us figure out what that is.”
The detective pulls the file closer to him, scanning it for a moment before looking back up at Cooper. “If you hear from him, or if you even think you know where he might be, we need to know. Understand?”
Cooper nods slowly, his stomach twisting. “Yeah, I understand.”
The officers stand to leave, but before the door closes, the detective turns back. “You were close to him. Don’t make us regret trusting you.”
Cooper’s mind races as they exit the room. He can’t shake the feeling that Oskar’s disappearance isn’t as random as it seems, but what was he really hiding? And what was Oskar mixed up in that made him vanish so suddenly?
Cooper stares at the cold, untouched coffee cup. It’s all too quiet. Something isn’t adding up, and Cooper has the sinking feeling that he's about to be dragged into it, whether he wants to be or not.