Sebastian adjusted the interface depth on the holo display, shadows of code and resonance models flickering across the narrow console table.
The safehouse node was temporary—third location in two weeks. No routine. No anchor point.
But the work had to begin.
SAS-C's projection hummed quietly in his thoughts.
"Initial resonance scan complete. Target anomaly nodes: twenty-three sectors flagged. Thirteen exhibit possible artificial resonance drift. Three high probability."
Sebastian's breath eased slow.
Three. Out of an entire station. Out of an entire galaxy.
A start.
He leaned in, fingers moving through the data stream.
The weave had shifted since Tayseri. The nexus currents—human, turian, asari—now bore faint counter-flows.
Other nodes awakening.
He had known, after the last confrontation, that one-by-one corrections were too slow. The system was adapting. The universe bleeding karma in unpredictable channels.
He needed to move faster.
"Prioritize node mapping," he murmured. "Focus on candidates with multi-sector impact."
"Affirmative," SAS-C replied. "Cross-referencing with known faction data."
The list refined.
He studied the first flagged node: mid-tier contractor on the edge of the Alliance trade ring. No major history, but recent surges in influence. Subtle karmic pull around transport flows.
A second node: deep in the lower wards—turian origin. No formal profile. Nexus-tagged twice for unexplained stability events after minor gang conflicts.
The third—distant. Unclear.
SAS-C confirmed: "Low-data sector. Will require field validation."
Sebastian exhaled.
So be it.
If the galaxy itself was spawning artificial anchors—echoes of what fate once shaped—then he needed to chart them.
And decide which would hold.
The first move was his now.
But it would not be the last.
--
Serena moved through the lower promenade levels with a steady pace.
She was not hunting a target.
Not chasing an assignment.
But her senses remained open, tuned beyond the noise of passing crowds.
For days now, the city's atmosphere had shifted.
The usual rhythms — merchant calls, transit noise, the hum of old machinery — all carried something extra.
An undercurrent. A tension just beneath the
surface.
Not from him alone.
That much was clear.
Where once only a single resonance had brushed against her awareness — sharp, deliberate — now others flickered at the edges of her perception. Faint. Unstable. And troubling.
She turned down a side corridor, reflexively checking corners. Years of Velkara training had made such caution second nature.
If the galaxy was birthing more of these strange echoes — without the shape or strength to hold them — it could fracture the balance even further.
Some patterns might align.
Others would spiral.
She would not let herself be caught
unaware.
A flicker ahead — subtle, but present. West sector. Lower transit link.
She adjusted her course without hesitation.
Not him.
The frequency was rough, imbalanced. But close enough to matter.
And where an unstable echo rose… so did risk.
She would see this one for herself.
Because a huntress did not wait for chaos.
She moved to meet it first.
--
The corridor echoed with faint static.
Sebastian moved with deliberate care, senses tuned, pace slow.
He had tracked the first node here—the lower transit link beneath the Alliance logistics hub.
No signs of hostile presence. No Broker markers. No obvious STG traces.
But the weave was disturbed.
SAS-C whispered confirmation:
"Resonance disruption localized. Pulse irregular. Source unstable."
He shifted stance, one slow breath, and keyed a low-frequency ping.
No reply.
Then—a flicker.
A figure ahead—human male, broad-built. Low-tier mercenary by posture. But the resonance around him… wrong.
Distorted.
Artificial echo spilling uncontrolled into the flow.
The man paced tight circles, breath erratic, tension bleeding into the space.
Not aware. Not targeted. But dangerous.
Sebastian read it in an instant.
This node wasn't emerging clean.
The galaxy had birthed a flawed resonance.
A mutation.
He moved to intervene.
Not force—influence.
A correction, before the fracture spread.
--
From high above the transit link, Serena crouched in stillness, her position hidden in the shadows of an old maintenance gantry.
Below, the source of the echo moved — a human male, heavy-built. His steps unsteady, breath ragged.
And around him… the wrong kind of pressure. Unstable. Twisting. No
discipline. No control. Whatever force had stirred within him, it was unraveling. Without guidance, even these false echoes could become dangerous.
She tensed, ready to intervene. A clean
strike would end it before the resonance bled further. But movement below shifted her focus.
Sebastian. He stepped into the space — unhurried, centered. No weapon drawn. No shield raised.
But his presence — steady. Focused. The contrast was stark. She watched, gaze sharp. No reckless charge. No sudden strike.
Instead — words. Low, even. She couldn't hear the exact exchange — but
the result was clear.
The man's tension eased, the wild resonance flickering… then fading. The air
settled.
Serena exhaled slowly.
Not every correction needed the blade. Still — watching Sebastian work, seeing how the flow responded to him — her curiosity deepened.
Whatever force had shaped him…
it was unlike anything she'd known.
And the question remained.
Who was he, truly?
Soon, she would find out.
Not by shadows alone.
The next time, she would speak.
--
The holo-table flickered in the dim safehouse light.
Sebastian reviewed the scan results—resonance overlays tracing faint arcs through station sectors.
SAS-C's voice was steady.
"Correction complete. First flawed node stabilized. No residual bleed detected."
He nodded once.
"One down."
But it wasn't enough.
Each day brought new fractures. The universe's desperate compensations—birthing flawed echoes alongside the viable.
And each one a potential risk.
He leaned forward, fingers brushing through data threads.
"Map deeper," he ordered. "Project beyond current station—Citadel space, then wider."
"Processing," SAS-C replied. "Estimated node emergence: increasing."
Sebastian exhaled slowly.
The scale was growing.
One node at a time was no longer viable.
He needed allies.
Not pawns. Not assets.
True anchors.
The thought sharpened.
Resonant individuals. The rare few the universe shaped well.
Like Shepard would be. Like… Serena.
His gaze narrowed.
It was time to find them.
And to choose which ones could stand.
--
Night cycle pressed close across the outer wards.
The Citadel's endless hum softened—but did not fade.
In a narrow corridor near the upper concourse, Serena stood silent, watching.
Ahead—moving with calm purpose—Sebastian.
No cloak. No guards. Alone.
But every line of him spoke readiness.
She followed.
Not far.
Enough.
Her decision had crystallized.
Next contact would not be passive.
Not hints. Not veiled words.
Direct.
Because the galaxy's weave had reached a cusp.
And so had they.
She exhaled—quiet, slow.
Then moved to close the distance.
Step by measured step.
Toward the next chapter of the hunt.