The corridor stretched on, endless yet intimate, like a vein pumping forgotten memories through the station's ancient heart. Rotham's footsteps echoed softly against the pulsating walls. Each step felt like a journey deeper—not just into the station, but into time itself.
Selin's voice crackled through his comm. "I'm still piecing together the data, but this architecture... it's not Union. It predates even the oldest records."
A distant hum grew louder, resonating through the metal floor.
At the corridor's end, Rotham found a sealed chamber. The door was etched with symbols — some resembling the Core's spirals, others foreign, almost organic.
He reached out. The door pulsed under his touch, then slid open, revealing a vast room bathed in soft blue light.
In the center floated a crystalline orb, suspended without support. Inside it shimmered an ethereal pattern — a lattice of memories, histories, and possibilities.
Rotham felt it calling to him.
This was the true Core.
Not just a repository of data or memories, but a living archive — the seed of the entire station's enigma.
He approached, and the orb responded, rippling outward.
Voices surged within his mind — not fragmented echoes, but a coherent chorus telling a story lost to time:
The origin of the Code.The birth of the Eye.And a warning — of a coming storm far greater than anything Adra-9 had faced.
Rotham's resolve hardened.
"If this is the source," he said, "then it's not just the station that's in danger — it's everything out there."
Selin's voice was steady, hopeful.
"We need to protect it. And understand it. Before the next echo arrives."
Rotham reached for the orb, knowing his journey into the forgotten past was only just beginning.