Eve
The lab still glowed with ghostly white light, residual energy from the reaction lingering in the air like static before a storm. I watched the crystal pulse on the containnt table, steady, rhythmic, alive. Beautiful and terrifying in equal asure. This small thing, no bigger than my fist, was going to save two hundred thousand lives.
If it worked.
Dr. Maya’s team moved in the background, their voices hushed as they finished up. The n had already filed out, leaving only the essential personnel. Kael stepped forward, holding Hades’s comm console, his expression grave.
"Patch through to Obsidian Dynamics," Hades said.
My chest tightened. This was it. The mont theory beca action.
A few heartbeats later, the holo-screen flickered to life above the table, casting blue light across our faces. The image resolved into a man I’d only read about in briefings files, Archon Vale, Grand Architect of Obsidian Dynamics. His silver insignia glead against his dark uniform, and behind him, I could make out the blurred shapes of massive machinery, the air alive with the hum of engines and the crackle of magnetic fields.
He inclined his head respectfully. "Alpha. Luna." His gaze found mine for a brief mont, acknowledging before returning to Hades. "We received the transmission. The composite has been confird, then?"
"Confird," Hades said, his voice carrying that edge of command that made people listen. "It’s stable and ready for integration. Proceed with production, Archon. Every minute counts now."
Vale exhaled slowly, and I saw his fingers steeple before him—a gesture of control masking tension. "Understood. We’ll begin imdiate infusion into the Magno-Steel reserves. The Arrays will need to run continuously." He paused, and sothing flickered across his composed face. Hesitation. "But... we’re cutting it close. The energy draw to keep all five Magneto-Thermic Arrays active will be... considerable."
Static crackled through the line as schematics appeared beside his image. I leaned forward, studying them. Five enormous rings suspended in mid-air over iron dos, lightning arcing between them like captured thunder. The scale was staggering.
"Each activation pulse requires twelve hundred terawatts," Vale continued, his tone asured, yet still heavy with somd dread he could not hide. "That’s enough to blackout half the Obsidian grid for hours. We’ll be siphoning power from secondary districts. So sectors will go dark—civilian ones, most likely."
My stomach dropped. Darkness ant fear. Panic. People would think the worst.
But Hades didn’t hesitate. "We anticipated that. The solar reserves we’ve been storing for months—transfer them to civilian grids once the Arrays engage." His voice was steady, absolute. "The people can manage a few hours of dim light. They can’t survive lunar radiation. We compromise."
Vale nodded, and I saw relief soften the tension in his shoulders. "I expected as much, Alpha." He allowed himself a faint smile—equal parts pride and apprehension. "Still... I won’t lie. The scale unnerves even . Five dos, each larger than a stadium, forged mid-air under magneto-thermic load, all to be done within the window of a month." He gulped, the question in in gaze was obvious.
"Do you have sothing on your mind, Archon?" Hades asked, within is tone begin threatening.
The man dragged a gloved has through his hair, unsure. Still, he cleared his throat and asked. "Is it true, Alpha? The deadline has been moved up, we are eting the bloodmoon in six weeks?"
I understood; it was still so horrible dream even to us. He had right to question how a year was compressed to less than two months even if the information had been delivered through verified sources from the Obsidan tower.
Before Hades could speak, he continued, his voice asured but every syllable seed tremble. "I had to find out if the other
"I had to find out if the other sectors received the sa directive." His jaw tightened. "Ammunition production, agricultural sustainability, dical stockpiles—are they all scrambling too? Or is it just us standing between two hundred thousand civilians and annihilation with a month to forge the impossible?"
He t Hades’s gaze directly, and I saw the exhaustion there—the weight of knowing lives depended on his calculations.
"And what did you find, Archon?" Hades’ asked.
"We all received the sa directive. Which ans it’s really true—not so elaborate prank."
"It’s no prank, Archon. We’ve had these contingencies in the works for a decade since before I carried the Alpha title, when I was still Beta to Leon." His voice was firm, absolute. "Every sector is working to the sa tiline. Every hand is on deck. Our preparations will hold."
Vale was quiet for a mont, processing. Then sothing shifted in his expression, the weight lifting just slightly. His shoulders squared. "Then we’ll make sure we’re ready."
His smile flickered, so relief born from reassurance filtering into his features, fragile as candlelight. "It will hold. I’ll make sure of it."
Hades’s voice dropped lower, and I heard the fatigue beneath his control. How long had he been carrying this weight? "We’ll be there by tomorrow evening. Eve and I both. I want to see the Arrays myself before they go live."
Tomorrow. The word settled over like snow.
"I’ll have the Iron Quarter cleared for your arrival," Vale said. "You’ll want protective gear, the magnetic fields are volatile during calibration."
I trust you, Archon," Hades said quietly.
There was a asured pause, and Vale’s expression turned solemn. His spine straightened. "By the ti the moon turns red, Alpha, Obsidian will be sealed beneath unbreakable sky. We will not fail."
The transmission flickered once, twice, then dissolved into darkness.
Silence filled the lab again. The crystal’s pulse was the only sound—steady, persistent, hopeful. I looked at Hades and found him already watching , the fading holo-light still caught in his eyes. He looked tired. Determined. Human.
"Tomorrow," I murmured.
"Tomorrow," he agreed, and sothing passed between us in that mont. Not just words, but understanding. Fear and hope twisted together like the lightning in those Arrays. "We see what hope looks like in iron."
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe we could do this, that science and stubbornness and sheer will could stand against an ancient curse written in blood and moonlight.
But tomorrow would tell us if faith was enough.
I reached for his hand, and he took it without hesitation. His grip was warm, solid, real.
"We’ll make it work," I said. Not a question. A vow.
Hades squeezed my hand once. "We will."
Behind us, Dr. Maya’s team continued their work, cataloging data, running final checks on the crystal. Kael stood at the console, already pulling up logistics for tomorrow’s trip. The war machine was moving now, unstoppable.
Thea pulled free from the army of lab worker, limping, her hands in the pockets of her coat. "Thank you for your patience," I noticed the dark shadows around her eyes has deepened, yet she looked anything but tired. "Luna Eve we still have so reserves of your blood but will need more by tomorrow."
I gave a wary smile. "Of course, I will hear by tommorrow evening ready yo donate. Thank you."
She bowed her head, still unable to look at for too long as getting back to the working team.
A ard wrapped around my shoulders, pulling into a warm body. I lted against it.
Hades.
"We will be alright," he whispered.
I looked up at him, searching his eyes for the doubt that knoee we shared, mostly because I could detect it through the Fenrir’s chain. I smiled. "Of course, we will."
And sowhere beyond these walls, six weeks away, the Blood Moon was coming.
But tonight, in this lab, we had hope.
It pulsed like a heartbeat.
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