The Eclipsera Codex

4. Nyra

The briefing room hums too loud.

Not with noise—with resonance. Celadryn builds everything like it’s an instrument. Walls tuned to the Array net, floor keyed to the Veins, ceiling set to bounce transmissions clean. If you can hear like I do, it’s like standing inside a throat mid-note.

Two years gone and it still feels the same.

They’re already in there.

Kaien’s at the head of the table, standing because sitting would make him look less like command. Theron’s three seats down, legs stretched, trying to look relaxed and failing because every line of him is coiled. Cassian’s leaned forward over the holo, pupils bright like someone handed him a new constellation. Eryndor’s in the one shadowed slice of the room where the panels don’t quite reach, quiet, watching.

And Auren is at the far end with the Array officers, slate in front of him, expression carefully professional—like he didn’t knock on my door this morning and drag me out of retirement. Just another day, another recall. Nothing to see here.

I step through the door.

The resonance in the room spikes—that sharp little lurch when familiar frequencies clock each other again. Not surprise. Just recognition.

“Echo-Warden Aelori, reporting for debrief,” I say, clean.

Kaien’s gaze hits mine, steady. “Take a seat.”

I sit where I always used to—left side, near the holo, opposite Kaien, between the guys and Command. My body just… does it. Muscle memory. Annoying.

Commander Elistar—Array officer, Celadryn to the bone, pale uniform, paler face—taps the table. The holo blooms over the center: Eclipsera, five realms, five colours, Veins pulsing underneath like a heartbeat. Every few seconds, ten small red flares blink in sync.

“Let’s begin,” Elistar says, voice flat.

He gestures and the image zooms—Celadryn, Thalenor, Veyloris, Drakaira, Aeloria. Ten-glyph bursts across all five.

“Three weeks ago,” he says, “an anomalous resonance sequence registered in outer Celadryn orbit. Within twenty-four hours, copies of the same sequence appeared in all other Accord realms. Each pulse carried a ten-glyph string consistent with dormant Codex fragments.”

“Ecliphane,” Kaien says, low.

Elistar nods. “Yes. The final, incomplete alignment string from the Tower incident.”

The word hits the room like a dull blade.

I keep my face neutral. My hands stay laced so no one sees I’ve dug nails into my palm.

“Unlike the Tower event,” Elistar goes on, “the current sequence is not localized. It is traveling the Veins. It is responding to emotional resonance spikes. And it is escalating.”

Cassian hums like he actually enjoys that. “So the Codex learned how to stalk a whole planet.”

“Not stalking,” Elistar says, still not looking at him. “Scanning for familiar signatures.”

Theron leans back. “You mean us.”

“I mean the five of you,” Elistar confirms. “Your former unit is the only one with an established attunement pattern to this class of anomaly. Reassembling you was the most efficient course of action.”

I can feel all four of them then, even without touching—Kaien’s low stone hum, Theron’s hot storm crackle, Eryndor’s cool undercurrent, Cassian’s bright, starry flare. My dampener ring warms, catching the rise in my frequency before it spikes. Two years away didn’t erase the way my resonance wants to slot against theirs.

Kaien notices. He always notices. His eyes flick to my hand, then back to the holo.

“The sequence it’s broadcasting,” Elistar says, and the holo shifts again—ten symbols rotating in the air—“matches the order recorded in your Tower reports. Veyra. Skynor. Nameris. Then the attempted Ecliphane completion.”

I tilt my head. “It’s copy-pasting.”

“Yes,” he says. “Only this time it is broadcasting across all five Veins simultaneously.”

Theron whistles, low. “So instead of blowing up one tower, it wants to blow up five.”

“We’d prefer it didn’t blow up anything,” Elistar says.

Cassian glances at me. “Did it look like this to you?”

The symbols spin, throwing light on his face. Veyra clean and sharp. Skynor curved and binding. Nameris heavy, collapsing. Ecliphane still just two mirrored arcs trying to meet.

“Yeah,” I say. “That’s the order. That’s the feel. It was pushing to finish.”

“You said in your original statement you blacked out before you saw the full effect,” Elistar says.

“I did,” I say. “But I felt it. It was trying to resolve the chord.”

Eryndor finally speaks, voice low. “Show us.”

I lean forward, point. “That one first. Veyra—that’s the call. Then Skynor—bridge. Then Nameris, when containment couldn’t hold. Ecliphane was the last tone the Codex threw at me before I lost consciousness.”

Cassian’s eyes flicker. “So it did try to complete.”

“It did,” I say. “We just didn’t let it.”

Silence spreads for a beat.

Auren’s voice cuts through, smooth. “Command’s analysis suggests the Codex is resonating to people, not structures. It’s reaching for frequencies it’s already imprinted on.”

I look at him once, fast. He looks back like we’re just colleagues. No extra information there. Good.

“So,” Theron says, “because we were idiots together in a tower, we’re now on speed-dial.”

“That is one way to frame it,” Elistar says. “Assignments are as follows.”

He pulls up a second holo—field roster.

“Commander Varric,” he says, nodding at Kaien, “tactical coordination and site stabilization. Operative Vale—atmospheric defence and stormfield containment. Operative Kaelith—shadow intelligence, Codex mirroring, counter-infiltration. Operative Rhyne—resonance mapping and predictive calibration. Echo-Warden Aelori—full-sequence decoding and vocal stabilization.”

I nod once. “Understood.”

“You remain the only active asset who can hear the Ecliphane thread cleanly,” he adds.

Yeah. That’s the problem.

Kaien folds his arms, all business. “If it really is reacting to us, we need layered containment. No open-channel singing in unsecured areas. No solo contact with live glyphs. We are not repeating the Tower.”

That lands. Even Theron shuts it for a second.

“It’s reacting to emotion,” Auren adds, glancing down at his slate. “We’ve tracked it spiking harder near high-frequency events—rallies, rites, battlefield commemorations. Anywhere the room is feeling the same thing. That’s why Command moved fast.”

I lean back. “So it’s listening for choir moments.”

“Yes,” Elistar says. “Which is why we’re sending you to Veyloris first. Skyward Reach had the strongest flare. You’ll intercept there, decode, and send the pattern back before it moves deeper into the Veins.”

“Just Veyloris?” Cassian asks. “Or is this a chain?”

“It’s a chain,” Elistar says. “Veyloris first. Then Drakaira. Then Celadryn deep array. Three priority sites. Full route is in your mission packet.”

Storm, shadow, glass. Great. Neat little escalation ladder.

Theron leans back, mouth crooked. “So instead of not doing the thing that almost killed us, we’re going to three different scenic locations to do the thing that almost killed us.”

Kaien gives him the commander look. “Vale.”

“I said ‘almost.’”

Cassian smirks. “Progress.”

I let them talk over it, because that’s how we always worked. Command listed things; we translated them into language that made sense.

Elistar doesn’t blink. “You deploy in twenty-four hours. All five of you will travel together to preserve alignment.”

“Together?” I say. “In transit?”

“Yes.”

“You do know putting five reacting signatures in a metal tube is how you get another tower, right?”

“That is why you will be wearing dampeners,” Elistar says. “And why Commander Varric will be present.”

Theron grins. “Daddy Kaien, keeping everyone in line.”

Kaien doesn’t rise to it. “We need updated signal reports for all five realms. Veyloris will give us the fastest read.”

“You’ll have them,” Elistar says. “Debrief concluded.”

He kills the holo. Chairs scrape. Array officers stand.

Auren stands too. He flicks me a quick look—checking, not guilty—and I give him the smallest nod. I’m fine. I can do this. He follows the officers out.

The door seals behind them.

And it’s just us.

No Command. No watchers. Just four men I walked away from and the resonance field we made together.

No one moves for a heartbeat.

Theron breaks first. “Two years off and you still walk in here like you own the place.”

“I did a lot of yoga,” I say.

He barks a laugh. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I admit.

Cassian drapes his arms over the back of his chair, eyes on me. “You look good.”

“Travel hair, Aetherion black, no breakfast,” I say. “Stunning.”

“Still good,” he says, easy.

Eryndor stands, smooth and quiet. “Your resonance is tighter,” he says. “Disciplined.”

“Aeloria didn’t have Array dampeners,” I say. “If I didn’t keep it contained, whole streets heard me.”

“It suits you,” he says, and slips out like smoke.

Of course he does.

Kaien doesn’t leave.

He plants his hands on the table, watching me. “You shouldn’t have told them to cut you off,” he says.

“It’s a practical contingency.”

“It’s a surrender.”

“It’s reality,” I say, meeting his eyes. “If it escalates like last time, I won’t be able to stop it.”

“We will,” he says.

“We didn’t last time.”

His jaw flexes. “Last time we were reacting. This time we prepare.”

“Last time you almost died,” I say.

“Last time we almost died,” he corrects. “Not just you.”

“Exactly,” I say. “Which is why I gave them permission.”

We stare at each other. His resonance thuds under his skin, low and warm, and my body remembers too much—training rooms, his hand on my shoulder when I was still shaking from over-singing, the exact way he used to say good work, Warden like it meant something more.

He breaks first, because he’s disciplined. “We deploy in twenty-four. Get your med clearance.”

“I don’t need med—”

“Aelori.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

He nods once and heads for the door.

Cassian stands, stretching. “I forgot how bossy he gets.”

“That’s called leadership,” Theron says.

“That’s called tight shoulders and no hobbies,” Cassian says.

I snort.

We file out together.

The corridor outside is too bright—Celadryn loves glass and white-gold light. It reflects off everything, makes you feel exposed. I fall behind the guys on purpose.

Kaien leads, stride exact. Theron keeps pace at his shoulder, already talking about storm bridges like he’s counting drop points. Cassian drifts behind them, hands in his pockets, taking in the Array like he’s cataloging pressure points. Eryndor’s already gone—of course—probably off to thread himself through Veyloris intel.

I stay last. Easier to read the field.

Cassian glances back. “Still breathing?”

“Define breathing.”

“Alive enough to glare,” he says, and grins. “You did good in there.”

“I sat down,” I say. “High bar.”

“High stakes,” he says. “They’re scared.”

“They should be,” I say. “It’s touching everyone now.”

We hit the lift. Kaien palms the panel. Doors hiss open.

Inside, it’s quieter—resonance dampers in the walls to keep comms sealed. We all step in. Doors close. Close quarters. Too much heat, too much memory.

“Feels weird,” Theron says, watching our reflections in the glass.

“What does?” Kaien asks.

“Being back together.”

No one argues.

“It’s going to push harder this time,” I say. “Because we’re all in the same room again.”

“That’s why we stay in control,” Kaien says.

“That’s why you stay in control,” I correct.

Theron chokes on a laugh.

Cassian smirks. “At least she’s honest.”

Kaien’s mouth does something microscopic and annoyed.

“Relax, Commander,” I say.

The lift opens onto the upper ring—glass dome, orbit view, the Array laid out below like a circuit board. The Veins hum underfoot. Under that, thinner but distinct, the Codex thread.

We walk.

“Training bays are open,” Kaien says, sliding straight back into commander mode. “You’ll each run recalibration drills tonight. Aelori, resonance medics will check your baseline.”

“I can calibrate my own dampeners,” I say.

“Not for this field. Command wants numbers.”

I make a face. “Command always wants numbers.”

“Humour them.”

“You know she’s not going to,” Theron says.

Kaien just gives him a look. “You’ll keep her alive in the field.”

Theron’s grin fades. “Always do.”

There’s that shift again—quick, sharp, all of us remembering the Tower for a breath.

Cassian clears his throat. “Mess hall closes in twenty,” he says. “Are we eating or pretending we transcended food now?”

“Eat,” Kaien says. “You’ll need it.”

We peel toward the mess.

It hasn’t changed—clean lines, high glass, people in black and pale uniforms moving like they’re on half-sleep. We take a corner table, half shielded.

Theron drops into a seat. “Still hate these chairs.”

“You hate everything that doesn’t fly,” Cassian says, sitting across from him.

I take the end. Eryndor’s seat is empty—shadow business. Kaien sits opposite me.

We order. It’s Array food—rations with better branding.

We eat.

It’s quieter now, but not uncomfortable. Just… recalibrating.

Kaien’s gaze doesn’t move from my face. “We’re not going to let it get that far again.”

“You can’t control what it hears,” I say. “You can control you.”

“We will,” he says. “You call distance, we give it. You call proximity, we move in. You’re point on resonance.”

That pulls me up short.

“That’s not how Aetherion does it,” I say.

“We’re not standard Aetherion,” Kaien says.

Theron grins. “We’re the fun kind.”

Cassian tips his head. “And you always did call the music, Nyra. We just played.”

It’s stupid how good that feels.

I take a breath. “Okay. Then listen. It’s escalating because we’re back together. It’s pushing Ecliphane because it remembers the five-signature pattern. Veyloris will be loud, but clean. Drakaira’s going to be worse. Celadryn deep array is going to suck.”

“Love the honesty,” Theron says.

“Love the pay,” Cassian adds.

Kaien finishes first, tray already empty. “Zero-six,” he says. “Don’t be late.”

“Can’t say goodbye like a normal person,” Theron mutters.

“This is normal,” Kaien says, and walks off.

A beat later, a patch of air near the corner darkens. Eryndor’s shadow resolves just long enough for him to murmur, “I’ll have Veyloris intel by morning,” and then he’s gone again.

Cassian stands. “Get some sleep, Nyra.”

“When do I ever,” I say.

He grins. “Exactly,” and follows the others out.

I sit there for another minute, letting the Array hum wrap around me. Letting the reality of it settle—that I’m back in the room with them, back in the mission, back in the line of fire.

Two years pretending I could be normal.

Two hours back and I can already feel the chord trying to resolve.

Out in the hall, one of the wall panels cycles through mission alerts. For half a second, the Ecliphane glyph flashes—two mirrored arcs, reaching.