Umbra never slept.
From the moment the morning sirens rang, the fortress stirred like a living machine. Shades moved through its corridors in strict formation, their footsteps echoing against obsidian walls. Every corridor smelled faintly of iron and oil, every chamber resonated with the weight of a thousand secrets.
Hydra adjusted the strap of his cloak, eyes steady as the squad gathered in the hall of assignments. Behind him, Cerberus was tying her hair, the steel of focus replacing the warmth she had worn in Bali. Leviathan stretched his shoulders beside Valkyrie, both exchanging a glance that spoke of quiet readiness. Wyvern and Kraken murmured to each other, their banter just low enough to avoid drawing Azure’s wrath.
Nymph tapped her console, fingers moving with rapid precision, while Sphinx leaned over her shoulder, muttering something about “tuning the feed” until she shoved him with an exasperated sigh.
Phoenix, of course, leaned dramatically against a pillar. “We’re back to hell,” he groaned. “At least in Bali we had coconuts. Here? I get a stale protein bar that tastes like dirt.”
Griffin wheeled up next to him, smirking. “Don’t worry, Ishaan. If you faint from hunger, I’ll roll you down the stairs for extra training.”
“Savage!” Phoenix clutched his chest, staggering. “I train my heart out for this family and all I get is bullying.”
Wyvern shook his head. “Family, yes. Victim, always.”
Before Phoenix could protest again, the main screen activated. ARGUS’s voice cut through the chatter, calm yet unyielding.
“Shades, your assignments are logged. Primary operations today: infiltration drills, stealth reconnaissance, and two live target simulations. Mission oversight by Azure. Amber will be monitoring auxiliary parameters.”
“Which means,” Azure’s voice boomed from the balcony, “screw up once, and you’ll regret coming back from Bali.”
Phoenix whispered loudly, “I regret it already.”
Cerberus flicked her blade outward in warning. “You’ll regret it more if you don’t shut up.”
The day’s drills were merciless.
Hydra and Cerberus cleared a labyrinth test in record time, slicing through holographic constructs with synchronized precision. Their movements were less like two fighters, more like a single organism split into halves.
Valkyrie and Leviathan handled vertical assault climbs, rappelling across impossible walls with gravity-defying leaps. When Lev slipped halfway, Avni’s hand caught him without hesitation, and he gave her the rarest of smiles before they pushed forward.
Wyvern and Kraken handled explosives training—Erik cursed every miscalculation while Raiden corrected calmly, almost tenderly, as though guiding him through a dance rather than a detonation.
Nymph and Sphinx worked inside a sealed chamber, adjusting ARGUS’s satellite node while under artificial jamming. Sweat streaked down their foreheads, but when the system clicked back online, the chamber filled with ARGUS’s approving chime.
Phoenix and Griffin were thrown into live target sparring against a pair of Glooms. The Glooms didn’t hold back. Ishaan took blow after blow but somehow kept laughing, taunting them, until Griffin rammed one with surprising ferocity, his wheelchair nearly toppling. Even Azure raised a brow.
“Not bad, Griffin,” Azure muttered, arms crossed. “Maybe you’re more than just the angry one.”
Veer grinned faintly, breathing hard. “I’m not angry. Just… motivated.”
That night, the Shades gathered in their quarters. Exhaustion pressed on them like a heavy cloak, but the familiar teasing carried them through.
Phoenix sprawled on the floor dramatically. “If this is what being a Shade means, I demand a transfer to Umbra’s beach division. Surely that exists?”
Leviathan deadpanned, “It doesn’t.”
“Then I’ll make one. Valkyrie, back me up here. Tropical mission protocols? Sand-based combat drills?”
Avni rolled her eyes. “Only drill you’ll get is me drilling you into the dirt if you keep talking.”
Everyone laughed. The tension eased.
But ARGUS’s voice returned, quieter this time, almost like it was whispering directly into their ears.
“Shades. Alert. Minor anomalies detected in Umbra’s deep surveillance grid.”
Hydra froze. “Anomalies?”
“Energy signatures inconsistent with known operatives. Source: moving patterns near external containment sectors.”
Nymph frowned, pulling up a holo-map. “That’s… near the outer research vaults. Isn’t that where they keep some of the unsealed Gate fragments?”
Everyone went silent. The words alone were heavy.
Cerberus’s hand instinctively went to her blade. “Sleeping Gate.”
“Negative confirmation,” ARGUS corrected. “Direct awakening not detected. However… energy resonance matches 43% probability with Seraph Falk Draganov’s prior movements.”
Wyvern’s jaw tightened. “Seraph. Here?”
Kraken muttered, “Or close enough to make sure we feel him.”
Hydra exhaled slowly, steadying himself. The Bali sunsets seemed a lifetime ago. “So he’s not done playing.”
“Correct,” ARGUS replied. “Recommendation: heightened readiness. Missions will adapt accordingly. Warning: if Seraph continues to nurture external forces, containment breach probability increases by 17% within two months.”
Two months. The time bomb was ticking.
Later, when the others drifted to rest, Hydra sat by the hollow tree overlooking Umbra’s shadowed valley. Cerberus joined him, leaning against his shoulder, silent for a long while.
“You felt it too, didn’t you?” she whispered.
He nodded. “The way ARGUS said his name. Seraph isn’t moving without purpose. He’s building something.”
“And the Gate?”
Hydra’s gaze was fixed on the horizon. “Still sleeping. But for how long?”
Behind them, laughter echoed faintly from the quarters—Phoenix making some absurd joke, Griffin snapping back, Valkyrie groaning, Leviathan rumbling in amusement. That sound was their reminder of what they were protecting.
And what they stood to lose.
ns216.73.216.33da2
and then Add to home screen.