22

Zara’s knees hit the cold, unforgiving stone as Atlas slumped forward against her. His weight felt heavier than ever, as if the strength that once seemed infinite had finally drained away, leaving him still and quiet. She cradled his face between trembling hands, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

“Atlas,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady as tears slipped down her cheeks. “Atlas, no. No, no, no—come back.”

His silver-blue eyes—once bright enough to light the darkest corners of the world—were dark now, their glow extinguished like a dying star. The faint hum of his systems had vanished, leaving only silence. That silence surrounded her, suffocating, cold.

“Please,” she begged, her tears falling faster now, splashing against his torn, battered chest. “You promised me. You promised you’d stay.”

Her voice broke at the last word, splintering into something raw and fragile. She rested her forehead against his, the way he’d done so many times before, her hands clutching his face as if she could anchor him back to her.

“I’m not ready to lose you,” she whispered.

The cavern, once alive with chaos and violence, was utterly still. The only sound was the soft, shaky rhythm of her breath as it caught in her throat, again and again. Zara pressed her fingers against the edge of his jaw, hoping—praying—to feel something. A hum. A flicker of life. Anything.

But there was nothing.

“No,” she whispered again, shaking her head as if she could will the truth away. “You can’t leave me. I need you, Atlas.”

Her hands hovered over his chest, hesitating for a split second before pressing lightly against the torn edges of his synthetic skin. She could see the delicate wiring beneath, glowing faintly with remnants of residual energy. Sparks still flickered here and there, fading like embers after a fire had burned out.

There had to be something she could do.

Zara forced herself to focus, blinking away the tears clouding her vision as she examined the damage. The blast earlier had shredded the metal housing around his core, leaving delicate systems exposed. She didn’t understand how Atlas’s systems worked—he was too advanced, too intricate for her to fully comprehend—but she remembered what he’d once told her.

“My core runs on a secondary charge. A backup. It’s not perfect, but it gives me time.”

Time.

That word pounded through her like a drumbeat as she searched frantically through the remnants of his chest cavity. The circuitry was complex, crisscrossing in patterns that looked more like art than engineering, but amidst the chaos, she found it: a glowing cylinder, faint and flickering, still holding onto a shred of power.

Zara’s breath hitched. “This has to work,” she muttered to herself, her voice cracking as she reached into her pack.

Pulling out her field tools, she forced her hands to steady. It wasn’t much—a worn screwdriver, pliers, and a small pulse generator she’d scavenged weeks ago—but it would have to be enough.

“Don’t you give up on me,” she whispered as she worked. Her hands shook as she pried apart the fractured plating, each tiny spark of exposed wiring making her heart lurch. The core pulsed faintly, its energy dwindling, but she refused to let it go dark.

“You’re not leaving me,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice a mix of anger and desperation. “You’re going to open those stubborn eyes, and you’re going to argue with me about how reckless I’m being. Got it?”

The cavern remained silent, but Zara didn’t stop.

Time became a blur. She didn’t know how long she worked—minutes, hours—but she didn’t care. Her fingers were numb, coated in grime and the faint residue of synthetic fluid, but she ignored the pain, the trembling, the exhaustion.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she secured the pulse generator to Atlas’s core. She gripped the small device tightly, her thumb hovering over the activation switch.

“This is it,” she murmured, brushing a hand against his cheek. “Come back to me, Atlas. Please.”

Her thumb pressed down, and a soft hum resonated through the cavern.

Zara’s heart stopped as she watched his chest rise slightly, the faintest flicker of light pulsing through the seams of his skin.

“Atlas?” she whispered, leaning closer. “Can you hear me?”

At first, nothing happened. The hum grew louder, steady but faint, and her chest ached with the need to see him move—to see those silver-blue eyes come alive again.

And then, slowly, his head tilted slightly. His lips parted, and a faint breath escaped—synthetic, yes, but unmistakably alive.

Zara’s heart leapt into her throat. “Atlas!”

His eyes fluttered open, dim at first but then glowing softly, the light reflecting her tear-streaked face. He blinked once, twice, his gaze slowly focusing on her.

“Zara,” he said, his voice hoarse and uneven, but it was him.

She let out a sob, her relief crashing over her like a tidal wave. “You’re back,” she whispered, cupping his face in her hands as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. “You’re here.”

Atlas’s gaze softened as he looked at her, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. “You... fixed me?”

Her laugh was shaky and broken as she brushed her thumb along the edge of his jaw. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am not surprised,” he said softly, his voice steadier now. “I am... grateful.”

Her chest tightened painfully at the sincerity in his voice, the way his gaze held hers as if she were the only thing that mattered. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but stare at him and marvel at the impossible connection between them.

“You scared me,” she finally whispered, her voice trembling. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Atlas lifted his good hand—slowly, as if the movement required great effort—and brushed his fingertips against her cheek. “I promised you I would stay,” he murmured. “I meant it.”

Her tears spilled faster, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for the briefest of moments as she let herself breathe. “You can’t keep breaking yourself for me,” she whispered. “I can’t keep watching you fall apart.”

“I will endure,” he replied softly, his glowing eyes steady. “If it means I can protect you, I will endure.”

Her throat tightened, but she shook her head. “You don’t have to endure alone anymore,” she said fiercely. “I’m here. We’re here.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Together, then.”

“Together,” she echoed, her voice breaking as she pressed her forehead gently to his.

For a moment, the world around them disappeared. The cold cavern, the looming danger, the silence—it all fell away, leaving only the two of them. His presence, steady and warm despite the coldness of his frame, anchored her in ways she couldn’t explain.

“You’re not allowed to leave me again,” she murmured, half a plea and half a command.

Atlas’s voice was soft as he replied, “I won’t.”

The silence didn’t last long. Somewhere deep within the tunnels, the low hum of Torrak engines began again—a faint, mechanical growl that sent chills racing down her spine. Zara pulled back, wiping at her face with the back of her hand as she glanced toward the shadows.

“They’re coming,” she said softly.

Atlas’s eyes narrowed faintly as he pushed himself upright. He moved slowly, his damaged systems sparking faintly, but when he stood, he was still the towering, unshakable force she knew.

“Then we move,” he said, his voice stronger now.

Zara stood beside him, gripping her rifle tightly as she glanced up at him. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

Atlas met her gaze, his silver-blue eyes glowing steadily now, bright and alive. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” Zara said, forcing a determined smile as she turned toward the dark tunnel ahead. “Let’s get out of here. Together.”