The blue-lit tunnel twisted like a serpent, walls humming softly with residual energy. It wasn't made of stone or metal—it was living Threadtech, grown like coral, pulsing with a rhythm almost like a heartbeat.
Eli's hands still glowed faintly from the Threadroot. He flexed his fingers, trying to control it. His skin felt like it was humming from the inside out.
"Keep moving," Mira said sharply. "That detonation won't hold them forever."
They reached the end of the tunnel—only to find a cliff opening into a vast underground gorge. Waterfalls fell silently into black mist. On a far ledge, partially camouflaged among vines and ancient ruins, stood what looked like a shelter—organic, grown rather than built.
Jericho whistled. "That's not a Nexus facility."
Vega smiled for the first time in days. "No. That's rebel-grown."
They crossed a precarious stone bridge, vines creaking beneath their weight, until the shelter's entrance slid open like breathing skin. Inside, warm amber light bathed the chamber. People—dozens of them—paused their tasks, turning to look at the newcomers.
One figure stood out.
A woman cloaked in matte black, her hood drawn, a thread-weaved mask covering her face. She leaned against the wall with a blade holstered across her back—not steel, but something alive and glimmering.
"New Threadborn?" she asked, voice calm but edged with warning.
Eli stepped forward. "Depends. Who's asking?"
The woman pulled down her mask.
Her eyes were mismatched—one violet, one silver—and in their depths, there was no fear. Only calculation.
"My name is Sylha. I'm the last Echo Assassin of the Bloom Rebellion. And right now… you're either my allies or my next mission."
---
Meanwhile, above the gorge…
The Proxy agents had cleared the Vault. Vaelion was gone—dissolved into the walls in a final act of defiance.
The lead agent stood silently as data streamed into her visor.
"Threadborn E-type confirmed. High resonance match," she muttered. "They've activated a Vault Guardian."
A second agent approached. "Orders?"
She tilted her head.
"Contact the Curators. Tell them the sequence has begun."
---
Back underground…
Sylha walked circles around the group, her gaze lingering on Eli's Threadroot mark.
"You activated it raw," she said. "No focus. No channel. You should be ash."
"It felt natural," Eli said, still unsure himself.
Sylha raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous kind of natural."
She turned to Vega. "You brought them here. You better know what you're doing."
Vega sighed. "I know enough. We need access to the Inner Bloom."
Sylha laughed—short and bitter. "You think I can just walk you into the heart of rebel territory? You have no clearance. No trust. No—"
Eli stepped forward. "Then test us."
Everyone went silent.
Sylha stared at him for a long moment. Then her lips curved upward slightly.
"You want in, Threadborn? Fine. Survive the trial tomorrow."
"What kind of trial?" Kaiya asked.
Sylha simply replied, "The kind that decides whether you belong—or die trying."