She clenches her teeth and leans her full weight against the crowbar. The access shaft’s security grille groans in protest before the hydraulic pistons finally give way. At last, the airlock opens with a plaintive screech. Wherever you go, elevators all make the same sinister noises, she thinks, wiping dust and sweat from her brow. The ones in Hadera did too—and this one’s no exception. It’s the rule of metal, of time, and of rust—the universal law of entropy.

Isaree slips cautiously into the shaft, then tilts her head toward the distant light above, blinking as droplets fall from the heights onto her face. At least she’s found a potential way out…

She rummages through her satchel and draws out an Aerolith crystal, carefully wrapped in a damp cloth. She inspects it in the dimness, turning it under the pale rays of light to study its purity. Pulling a Floret from her pocket, she taps the mineral’s surface—just enough to trigger a reaction, but not one of the explosive kind. Most of the time, things only go wrong when two fragments come to resonate. The reddish stone, the color of pomegranate syrup, begins to vibrate, to pulse, and waves of orange energy ripple through its core. She can’t help but smile, satisfied. No doubt—this vein is worth prospecting.

She stuffs the shard back into her bag. The slow drip-drip fills the cavern with languid echoes as she glances around.

Then her attention drifts to the lift platform, buried under erosion debris. Click, click. She flips the control lever—if that’s what it even is—but nothing happens. The technology is clearly human in origin, yet entirely unlike anything she knows. And from what she can tell, the difference in advancement is glaring…

She’s been exploring these abandoned tunnels for hours now. It’s definitely an old Aerolith mine, but some of its installations are so advanced she can only guess at their purpose. She’s found drills, extractors, and other tools, as well as empty Sap canisters. Unlike those found in the City of Scholars, these were designed to hold vaporized Sap—probably for rationed use.

Go, up?

She turns toward the giant, doughy figure waiting nearby and sighs. Ever since their Musubi, it’s been there, always—lingering in a corner of her mind like a half-forgotten thought. She knows it’s trying not to intrude, but somehow that makes it worse, like a child dipping a toe into cold water to test it.

‘People usually say climb,’ she corrects gently.

Climb, repeats the Chimera.

She named it Pebble—ironically enough. A “pebble” the size of a small elephant. She bites her lip, uncertain. They’d promised her an Alter Ego—a partner who’d help her reach new heights of Alteration. But its near-childlike shyness can sometimes feel more like a chain than a ladder.

The Aerolith golem raises its pudgy arms, miming the act of carrying something. She rolls her eyes skyward, then relents. Might as well take advantage of his mineral bulk and avoid a few minor scrapes. The colossus grips the metal panels of the elevator and twists them as if they were made of tin—almost delicately—then clambers into the shaft with clumsy care.

Isaree steps back a few paces to avoid being accidentally crushed against the wall. Then she climbs onto the railing and scales his rounded forearms before curling up in his embrace. Like a princess in the arms of her charming prince, she thinks. And what a charming prince indeed…

Climb? rumbles the giant.

She nods. That’s all the signal he needs. With a low hum resonating through his massive frame, Pebble begins to rise. She clings tighter, but the ascent is smooth—almost serene. She doesn’t mind it. She lets herself drift upward, borne by the gentle strength of her stone giant. The walls slide past as they climb, higher and higher, toward—

A violent tremor suddenly dislodges rocks above. Isaree’s eyes go wide as stones cascade down the shaft, ricocheting off the walls. She curls up, shielding her head, while Pebble raises an arm to block the worst of the debris. She still feels pebbles and dust strike her shoulders, her legs. She coughs, blinking away grit that’s found its way beneath her eyelids. A few bruises—but nothing broken.

As soon as they’re close enough, she scrambles onto the ledge—just as another shockwave rattles the mine. No, not a quake. An explosion. Dry smoke clouds the air, drifting in sheets through the tunnel. Pebble floats behind her, just above the ground, as she sprints toward the corridor’s opening—

A smell of burning. Shouts of panic. A metallic groan.

She lifts her gaze, her eyes struggling to adjust to daylight, and sees the dark silhouette of a construction crane collapsing toward her. The structure buckles; pylons twist, beams snap.

She barely has time to feel fear.

A mechanical arm slams into her, hurling her aside. Through gritted teeth, she glimpses a child in a cockpit—a white-shelled mech. Gavroche? No—someone else. Robotic tendrils latch onto the crane’s frame, holding it back just long enough for her to— The rest of the structure crashes down on the helpless machine in a thunderous roar.

Horror follows disbelief.

She spits out the ochre dust that’s made its way into her mouth, wiping her face with a trembling hand. Above, an immense shadow swallows the daylight. She staggers to her feet as another blast makes the ground reel beneath her. They have to get out of this cursed canyon—but which way?

She heads for the Techlab, reaching a high ledge. Through the haze, she sees the mobile lab—gutted, torn apart. Scientists flee through the wreckage—no, not that way. She freezes, paralyzed by fear yet thinking faster than ever. An evacuation pod? Too far. She’ll never make it.

Another shadow sweeps across the rocky ridges—like a wing. Or a cyclopean fin? It’s accompanied by a low moan, like the mournful song of a whale. It could almost be poetic—until Isaree sees it strike a reconnaissance plane mid-flight, shattering it to pieces before it comes crashing down somewhere in the distance.

No… no, that can’t be real.

The realization knots her stomach; she swallows back the urge to vomit. It’s a Leviathan. A Leviathan attack—just like the ones Jethro used to scare her with when they were kids, playing in the Enosha mines.

She hurries through the underground galleries, gray dust coating her hair. A tremor hurls her against a wall, then flings her across to the opposite side like a pinball. Gritting her teeth, she bounds up a staircase four steps at a time—toward the surface. Toward somewhere she won’t be crushed.

She finally reaches the rocky summit, where she might catch the attention of an evacuation barge—or any airship at all. Emerging onto the plateau, she raises her arms to signal—

She freezes, speechless.

All around her, the quarry is on fire. Black columns of smoke rise in bursts from where the Axiom and Bravos bases once stood. Distant sirens wail, their sound carried by the wind.

In the sky, the VEA Sune approaches—and at the sight of the cruiser, hope flickers to life again.
‘Sa-ved?,’ chirps Pebble beside her.

‘Yes, if we can just—’

She never finishes the sentence.

A colossal shadow tears through the clouds, splitting them open like an elephant parting the fog. It’s a manta ray, gliding with terrible grace—but its sheer size makes it anything but lyrical. Its eyes burn red with fury and destruction, alight with a fire that seems unquenchable. Its wingspan must stretch over a kilometer, and it moves with the deadly speed of a raptor.

It dives straight for the exploration ship, which looks like nothing more than a toy before the Leviathan’s vastness. Instinctively, desperately, Isaree tries to shout, to warn them—but her voice breaks into a strangled gasp as she realizes the futility of it.

The creature’s fin rises—like a cloak of night.

Then it falls.