Ava didn't move at first.
She stood in the center of the Architect's Core—pulse racing, mind sharper than it had ever been—as she watched Angle move like a virus through the system nodes. No longer a player. No longer even human. A fractured presence clawing at firewalls with stolen clearance and a soul that didn't belong.
She wasn't in control.
But she was trying to be.
Lucas crossed his arms beside her, golden eyes tracking the same feed. "She's using a memory route—ghost signals to trick the node into opening its gates."
Ava's voice was quiet but hard. "She's cheating."
Lucas gave her a sidelong glance. "You're one to talk."
"Yeah," Ava said, smiling tightly. "But I'm better at it."
She raised her hand—and the Mindspace obeyed.
The interface unfolded like a blooming weapon. No touch screens. No typing. Just intent.
Ava's system had stopped asking for commands.
It translated her thoughts directly.
