Chapter 59

Chapter 59: The Threshold Children

The outpost was silent long after the file closed.

No one moved. The shadows seemed to cling tighter to the corners, as if even the walls needed time to process what had just been revealed.

Threshold Children.

Subject Zero.

Ark.

None of them said it aloud, but the same question hung heavy in the air:

What had Lyra made Isla into?

And more terrifying—why?

---

By morning, they were moving again.

They left the outpost behind with only a faint heat signature trailing in the snow, covered fast by the wind. Isla walked ahead, wrapped in her insulated gear, hood pulled low, but even now, the light from her hand flickered faintly beneath the glove.

Like a heartbeat refusing to slow.

The journey to ECHO-3 was brutal.

Ice plains gave way to jagged mountain spines. There were no roads. No settlements. Just sky and snow and silence.

Ethan navigated using the drive’s coordinates. It pointed to a location that wasn’t on any public map—a place scrubbed from known cartography.

A facility hidden between things.

When they reached the ridge just before sunset, Isla saw it.

Sunken into a ravine, half-collapsed and overgrown with frost-scorched trees, was the skeleton of what had once been a grand observatory. Satellite dishes drooped like wilted flowers. A huge dome lay cracked down the center, as if the sky itself had tried to tear it open.

ECHO-3.

“Looks abandoned,” Ethan muttered.

Christopher scanned the area. “Power grid’s still humming. Someone’s keeping it alive.”

They approached carefully. Isla’s pulse picked up as they neared the entrance. There were markings on the walls. Symbols she recognized—ones she didn’t remember learning, but knew nonetheless.

The door opened when she reached out.

No password. No override.

Just her touch.

Inside, the air was stale but breathable. Fluorescent lights flickered reluctantly to life, revealing a hallway coated in frost and moss. Vines crept through cracked tile, clinging to the past.

Then came the voices.

Soft. Childlike.

Laughing.

Ethan froze. “Tell me you heard that.”

“I did,” Isla whispered. “And it wasn’t an echo.”

They moved deeper.

The hallway twisted and narrowed, leading to a central chamber. What they found inside stopped them cold.

Pods.

Dozens.

Some open.

Some still sealed.

And in the middle—a girl.

No older than sixteen. Pale hair falling in sheets over her face. She stood barefoot on the cold tile, staring at Isla like she had expected her.

Christopher raised his weapon, but Isla put a hand on his arm.

“Wait.”

The girl tilted her head. “You’re late.”

Her voice was eerie in its calmness. And something shimmered around her—barely visible, like heatwaves.

“Who are you?” Isla asked.

The girl stepped forward, feet silent. “Name doesn’t matter. We don’t use them anymore. But if you need one… they used to call me Kara.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. “You’re one of the Threshold Children.”

Kara nodded.

“Are there others?” Isla asked.

“Yes,” Kara said. “Some still sleep. Others… wandered away. Lost their minds. Lost their selves.” She blinked slowly, dreamlike. “You’re the last one to wake. The final thread.”

“Thread of what?”

“Memory,” Kara said softly. “We were never meant to be soldiers. We were meant to remember what the world wanted to forget. But too much memory can drive you mad.”

She turned to one of the sealed pods.

Inside lay a boy—no older than fourteen—with cables woven through his skin. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

“He didn’t make it,” Kara said. “His mind splintered. He saw too much.”

Christopher’s voice was tense. “Why were you all buried out here? What the hell was the purpose?”

Kara looked at Isla.

“Because we are keys. To the Vaults. To the Codes. To what came before the Collapse.”

Ethan took a step forward. “Then you know what the Directorate is planning.”

“I know they’re afraid of what’s coming,” Kara replied. “Afraid of the things they buried that didn’t stay buried.”

She looked at Isla again, this time with strange sadness.

“But you… you weren’t supposed to wake.”

Isla stiffened. “Why not?”

Kara smiled faintly. “Because you remember everything.”

The lights dimmed suddenly.

A warning blinked red on the wall: INCOMING SIGNAL.

Ethan checked the drive.

“They found us.”

Christopher cursed under his breath. “How many?”

“Too many.”

Kara moved back toward the pods, unfazed. “They’ll come for you now. The Vaultbound. The Keepers. And worse.”

“Then we fight,” Isla said.

Kara shook her head. “No. You run. Not because you’re afraid. But because you haven’t finished remembering.”

The floor shuddered.

Explosions boomed in the distance.

Christopher grabbed Isla’s arm. “Time to go.”

Kara didn’t follow. She simply touched the pod with the boy inside and whispered something they couldn’t hear.

Then she turned to Isla.

“Don’t let them define you. Don’t become what they need. Be what you choose.”

And then she was gone—vanished into the shadows as another blast rocked the compound.

Isla didn’t hesitate.

She ran.

As the ceiling began to fall and the lights flic

kered out completely, she turned once—just once—to look at the place where Kara had stood.

And deep inside, something shifted again.

Not pain. Not fear.

Purpose.