The air deep within the primary basalt mines of the Grey Zone was twice as heavy as the smog on the surface. Astra adjusted the straps of her tactical leather vest, her boots grinding into the soot stained gravel as she walked through the lower tunnels. The walls of the volcanic caverns were a deep, reflective black, polished smooth by generations of laborers who had dragged heavy tech scrap out of the earth. Above her head, temporary industrial light bars cast a harsh blue glow over the massive construction site. Thousands of workers were already moving with a renewed sense of purpose, their tools clashing against the stone as they cleared the pathways toward the deep geothermal vents.
The silver crescent moon on her palm was quiet, but it hummed with a subtle, warning heat against the i
