Zane's breath caught as the red light pulsed down the wrecked hallway of The Vault, casting jagged shadows on the walls. The air hummed, heavy and electric, like the night he'd touched the Synthorium. That thing, whatever it was moved closer, its shape hulking and wrong, nothing like Mara's sleek shadows. His skin prickled, the blue lines under his arm glowing faintly, the Synthorium whispering in his mind: Danger. No kidding.
His arm stung where Mara's shadows had cut him, and his cheek burned from another graze. Mara, her hate-filled eyes, her story about the warehouse job—still rattled him. He'd left her trapped three years ago, not knowing she'd lose her brother, her life. Guilt gnawed at him, but this new threat didn't care about his regrets.
Liora stood beside Jaxon, her braid loose and her hands sparking with electricity. "It's not Mara," she said, eyes narrowing. "But it's after the Synthorium. Same as her." She glanced at Zane, her green eyes sharp. "You're a magnet for trouble, glowstick."
"Tell me about it," Zane said, trying to sound brave. Inside, he was a mess.
Mr. Corin, his silver hair barely ruffled despite the chaos, stepped forward. "Focus," he snapped, his voice cutting through the alarms still blaring. "This is no ordinary tracker. It's a Harvester, built to extract Synthorium by force." His eyes locked on Zane. "If it reaches you, you're done."
"Done?" Zane's stomach dropped. "As in dead?"
"Or worse," Mr. Corin said, his tone flat. He hit a panel on the wall, and a holographic map flickered to life, showing red dots swarming The Vault. "It's not alone. We need to move."
Zane's head spun. Harvesters? More drones? Mara's portal? It was too much. He wasn't a hero—he was a mechanic who boosted cars to pay rent. But the Synthorium hummed, steady and warm, like it believed he could handle this. He thought of Clara's worried hugs, Sophia's laugh. He had to try.
"Move where?" Jaxon asked, eyeing the approaching shadow. The red light grew brighter, and a low growl echoed, mechanical and alive.
"Sector nine," Mr. Corin said. "The Chronochamber. It's shielded. We can regroup there." He started down the hall, not waiting for agreement.
Liora grabbed Zane's arm, pulling him along. "Stay close, rookie. You're the target." Her grip was firm, but her voice had a flicker of concern, like she didn't totally hate him.
Jaxon took the rear, his armor clanking. "If that thing's a Harvester, who sent it?" he called to Mr. Corin. "Mara?"
"Doubtful," Mr. Corin said, not turning. "Her crystal was unstable. This is something bigger."
Zane's chest tightened. Bigger than Mara, who'd nearly killed them with her shadows? He stumbled, his bare feet slipping on the smooth floor, the hospital gown flapping awkwardly. The Synthorium's glow pulsed in his hands, itching to do… something. He just didn't know what.
The hallway shook, another explosion rocking The Vault. Zane glanced back. The shadow was closer, a massive figure, ten feet tall, its body a patchwork of metal and pulsing red veins, like a robot fused with something alive. Its eyes glowed red, locked on him, and its arm extended, sprouting blades that scraped the walls.
"Run!" Liora yelled, shoving Zane forward.
They sprinted, Mr. Corin leading them through twisting corridors. Zane's lungs burned, but the Synthorium kept him moving, like it was fueling him. He thought of Mara's words: You left me. Had she sent this thing? Or was someone else after his power?
They reached a heavy door, its surface etched with glowing runes. Mr. Corin slammed his hand on a scanner, and it hissed open, revealing a circular room, the Chronochamber. Its walls shimmered like liquid glass, and a platform in the center hummed with energy. Screens lined the walls, flashing data Zane couldn't read.
"Inside!" Mr. Corin ordered. They piled in, and the door sealed shut, muffling the alarms. For a moment, it was quiet, the hum of the chamber the only sound.
Zane leaned against a wall, catching his breath. "Safe now?" he asked, hoping for a yes.
"Not even close," Liora said, sparks still dancing on her fingers. She nodded at a screen showing the Harvester tearing through a hallway, blades slicing metal like paper. "That thing's coming."
Jaxon cracked his knuckles. "Then we fight. Hit it hard, take it down."
"No," Mr. Corin said sharply. "We need a plan. The Harvester's designed to adapt. Brute force won't work." He turned to Zane. "Your Synthorium's raw, but it's powerful. You need to learn it...fast."
"Learn it?" Zane's voice rose. "I shot lightning by accident! I don't even know what I'm doing!" His hands glowed, the blue energy flickering, like it was as confused as he was.
"Focus," Mr. Corin said, stepping closer. "The Synthorium responds to your will. Feel it. Shape it."
Zane clenched his fists, the hum in his chest growing. He tried to focus, picturing Clara's smile, Sophia's voice. The energy steadied, forming a faint shield around his hand. "Like this?" he asked.
"Better," Mr. Corin said, but his eyes were on the screen. The Harvester was close—too close.
Before Zane could try again, the door shuddered. A blade punched through, red light seeping in. Jaxon cursed, his armor glowing. Liora raised her hands, electricity crackling. Zane's shield flickered, his heart racing. They were trapped.
"Plan B?" Jaxon asked, glancing at Mr. Corin.
Mr. Corin's face tightened. "The Chronochamber can amplify Synthorium energy. Zane, if you channel enough power, you could overload the Harvester."
"Overload it?" Zane's throat went dry. "What if I blow us up instead?"
"Then we're dead anyway," Liora snapped. "Do it."
The door buckled, the Harvester's growl shaking the room. Zane's hands shook, but he nodded. He closed his eyes, the Synthorium's voice guiding him: Create. He pictured a surge, like the pulse that stopped Mara. The energy built, hot and wild, his whole body glowing blue.
"Now!" Mr. Corin shouted.
Zane thrust his hands forward, blue light exploding from him. It hit the platform, and the Chronochamber amplified it, sending a wave through the door. The Harvester roared, its red veins sparking, then dimming. The blades stopped, and it slumped, silent.
Zane collapsed, drained, his vision blurry. "Did… did it work?" he gasped.
Jaxon whooped, clapping his back. "Hell yeah, rookie! You fried it!"
But Liora's face stayed grim. She pointed at a screen. "Look."
Zane squinted. The Harvester was down, but a faint red glow pulsed in its chest, spreading to the floor. The hum returned, louder, and the walls shook. A crack split the ceiling, and a familiar voice, Mara's, echoed, not from the room but inside Zane's head.
"You can't stop us," she hissed. "The Synthorium's ours."
Zane's blood ran cold. The screen flickered, showing a new portal opening outside the chamber. Shadows poured through, and Mara stepped out, her red crystal glowing brighter. Behind her, more Harvesters loomed, their eyes fixed on Zane.
"She's back," Liora said, sparks flaring. "And she brought friends."
Zane's heart sank. He'd stopped one monster, but Mara had played them. She'd used the Harvester as a distraction—and now she had what she wanted. His guilt burned hotter. This was his fault. His past, his mistakes.
Mr. Corin's voice cut through. "Zane, get up. We're not done."
Zane staggered to his feet, the Synthorium humming faintly. He thought of Clara, Sophia, the life he'd lost. Mara wanted his power, his life. But he wasn't giving up. Not yet.
As Mara's shadows surged toward the door, a new alarm blared: Synthorium breach detected. Containment failing. Zane's glow flickered, and pain stabbed his chest, like something was tearing him apart from the inside.