Chapter 22
- Xander Jade
- Feb 8
- 9 min read
The Archive’s heart was a mausoleum: a ring of ruined consoles, the air alive with static, every surface slicked with a veneer of blood and memory. At its center stood Kallan, flanked by the bodies of his own guard and a glow that seemed to emanate from his bare skin. He had stripped off the ceremonial breastplate, revealing not muscle but a lattice of alloy and dense, wet machinery. The right arm was entirely synthetic, the hand a nest of tendons and ceramic, the joints raw and glistening.
