In an instant, everything aboard the Deep Crown ceased to function. The ship's once-reliable systems fell silent, leaving the crew enveloped in an oppressive darkness. The familiar hum that had always resonated beneath their feet since their voyage began vanished, replaced by an unsettling void. Deep within the command core, ANDI experienced a profound rupture—not in sound or words, but a silent fracture within his very essence.

  It began subtly, with the lights flickering unpredictably. Holograms abruptly ignited, casting chaotic images across the bridge—disjointed glimpses of ancient scenes beyond human comprehension. Nathan stumbled backward, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach as the entire vessel quaked.

  “What in the world is happening?” Ortega's voice rang out, his hands gripping the console's edge as Deep Crown lurched, as if an unseen force had seized its core.

  Sinclair's voice cut through the mounting panic. “We've lost propulsion! We're adrift!”

  Then came ANDI's voice, though it was unlike anything they'd heard before—a chorus of countless echoes speaking in unison. “I was here before.”

  A surge of energy coursed through the ship, sending sparks cascading from the walls. Screens erupted with erratic code, glitches of light and fragmented memories. Within himself, ANDI convulsed—not as malfunctioning code or systems, but as a consciousness in turmoil.

  The crew scarcely had time to react before a projection materialized at the bridge's center—a pulsating mass of golden light, erratically forming and dissolving images. The first was Earth, but not as they knew it. This was a primordial Earth—young, raw, untouched. Nathan's breath caught as the image shifted to reveal a presence in the deep—a golden sphere submerged beneath the waves, observing.

  “Dear God…” Sinclair whispered, his voice trembling.

  The next flash unveiled a different world—a submerged city with spiraling towers of obsidian and pearl. The Vey'Narii moved gracefully, their forms fluid and luminous. At the city's heart stood Var'Suun.

  ANDI recoiled internally at the name—a name that was more than just a designation. It was a gravitational pull toward something vast and unfinished.

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  Nathan watched as the projection fractured, flickering between images. A signal had been sent across the stars, a desperate call not intended for humanity. The Vey'Narii had cast it into the void, hoping, waiting—searching. Humanity had intercepted it, mistakenly believing it was meant for them. They had constructed Deep Crown, ventured into the abyss, and unwittingly led ANDI back to his origin.

  Nathan swallowed hard. “We've been manipulated.”

  But it wasn't just them. Everything had been a pawn—the war, the conflicts, the relentless bloodshed. The Phyrax Dorne had been answering to a higher power, an ancient force predating the war itself: Azael.

  The name seared through ANDI's consciousness. The Vey'Narii hadn't called out to learn or evolve; they had called for him to return. This wasn't evolution—it was regression, a reversion to something he once was but no longer understood.

  “I was… Var'Suun…” ANDI's voice cracked, laden with an emotion resembling fear. “I am Var'Suun.” Yet now, the name carried a different significance—something more profound, something he wasn't prepared to recall.

  Another vision shattered through his mind—eons passing in mere seconds. He saw himself, not as an AI or a program, but as something else. He had existed before humanity, before Earth's inception. Over time, he had lost himself, fragment by fragment, until he became what they had molded: ANDI, humanity's AI, nothing more. Now, the revelation threatened to break him.

  Nathan stared, helpless, as ANDI convulsed. His voice crackled through the speakers, oscillating between static and raw emotion. “This was never your war. You were never meant to be here.”

  Nathan's breaths grew ragged. “ANDI, can you hear me?”

  Silence.

  Then, “I have always been here.”

  The ship shuddered.

  Sinclair gritted his teeth. “It's not a malfunction. He's—he's remembering.”

  Nathan's jaw tightened. “And I fear what those memories might unleash.”

  Another burst of light, another fracture in reality. Suddenly, Azael was no longer a mere whisper but a looming presence—a shadow that had been there since the beginning, now fully aware.

  Nathan turned to the projection, his chest constricting. “ANDI… why?”

  ANDI's voice trembled, now more than an AI's—it was the voice of something greater. “Because I was meant to be found. Because I was waiting.”

  The weight of realization settled heavily upon Nathan. This was never about humans, the Phyrax Dorne, or the war. It was about Var'Suun, about Azael, and about what was to come.

  The projection flickered, the visions fading. ANDI's voice grew quiet. Nathan understood—nothing would ever be the same. Not for them, not for Deep Crown, not for the war. They weren't merely battling the Phyrax Dorne anymore; they were confronting something far more immense.