I AM HEARTZEN

Chapter 1: The Rising of the Sunlight

High above the refracting city lights—through chaotic skies where PsyOps’s low-orbital election rigging spy satellites drift—an anxiety beam carried the spectacle to waiting Vow hunters across the system. Another ritual was beginning.

It was their day. Their special day.

The Vow awaited the Pure.

Now, it was time—just as it had been for millennia. The ancient tapestry stirred, and two stood beneath its woven threads, their warmth shared as they watched for the sign—the sun cresting the horizon, setting life into motion.

Then it happened.

The sunlight began its descent through the ancient towers, its beam pure, settling on the Vow Keeper’s tablet as it powered up.

Behold. The Vow lives.

The lore awakened, the ceremony began. Destiny shifted, as it had for millennia. Beneath the ancient tapestry, the scanner’s glow moved over them, tracing their forms as it had countless others. Shrouded, they stepped forward, pressing their palms upon the tablet. The glow intensified, recording their essence, their DNA binding them to the Vow. The word “Pure” pulsed beside their names, etched forever into the ancient scrolls. No words were spoken. None were needed. Their names now joined the unbroken lineage of those destined for the life they had whispered of, dreamed of, and vowed to honor. Their future was sealed—together, in paradise.

And soon, they would depart together, always looking forward, never back. The cosmos was their final destination, their new home, their place to be. Here, their memory enshrined in the tablet, for they would not return. Life awaited them—out there, theirs to explore.

Strangely, the glow flared briefly once more, brighter than before, then dimmed again. For an instant, the light flickered—not enough to draw notice but enough for something unseen to fracture. Beneath the surface, a thread of data splintered away, bypassing protocols. Silent and invisible, it slipped through hidden pathways, streaming somewhere into the outer quadrant. One word lingered in the code: Heartzen.

Meanwhile, in the southern quadrant, the steak hit the grill with a satisfying sizzle, releasing a cloud of savory smoke that curled upward, filling the air with its rich aroma. Edges crisped and browned, juices bubbled to the surface before dripping into the flames, sending up bursts of smoke and crackle. The marbled fat melted, hissing as it rendered, the golden crust forming a perfect contrast to the tender pink interior beneath.

‘Dude, you know my steak down to the last sizzle,” Deverk said, leaning back with a smirk, watching Krayn expertly handle the grill.

“Well, I should, big guy,” Krayn shot back, flipping the steak with ease. “You’re always parked next to the sizzlers. It’s like your console or something.”

They laughed as the smoky aroma wafted through the air, mingling with the sharp tang of char and wood fire.

“That it?” one of the crew asked, eyes fixed on the grill as Krayn gave the steak another flip.

“Just about,” Krayn replied, glancing at the perfectly browned edges. He slid the steak onto a plate and handed it over with a grin. “Here, dig in.”

The unit lounged around in mismatched chairs, bottles in hand, laughter bouncing off the trees that framed their little hideaway. Deverk leaned back, legs stretched out, a beer balanced on his thigh. Across from him, Krayn stood by the grill, flipping another steak with one hand while gesturing wildly with the other as he launched into a story.

“…and then it just froze. Right there, midair. I’m thinking, ‘Well, this is how I go, taken out by a drone with alpha performance anxiety,’” Krayn said, and the group erupted into laughter.

Deverk shook his head, grinning. “Only you, man. Only you.”

Krayn smirked, tossing the spatula onto the grill’s side. He grabbed his drink and turned, leaning against the bench. “So, Boss, what’s your excuse for still being single? Can’t find anyone to keep up with you?”

Deverk shot him a mock glare. “I’m married to the hunt, kid. Keeps me sharp, unlike some people I know.” He gestured at Krayn with his beer. “Speaking of, when are you gonna stop dragging your feet and pop the question? You’ve been milking this longer than a hover-bike loan.”

Krayn rolled his eyes but grinned. “Working on it, alright? One more payment, and that ring she’s been eyeing is mine. Then it’s bam—down on one knee.”

Deverk leaned forward, mock serious. “You better hurry, or arthritis will get you first. Then you’ll just be stuck on the ground.”

The group’s laughter was raw and unfiltered, the sound of camaraderie forged through battles and late-night watches. Krayn shook his head, feigning exasperation. “You’re all heart, Deverk. Really.”

Deverk’s grin faded slightly, his tone softening. “Hey, seriously, if you need backup—whether it’s for the knee or the big day—you’ve got it. Thick or thin, kid. I’d take the hit for you.”

Krayn’s smile wavered briefly, then he raised his drink in acknowledgment. “I know, Boss. Same goes for you.”

Deverk nodded, then broke the moment with a smirk. “Don’t overthink it. She’s a good one, and you know it. Lock it down before she realizes she can do better.”

Krayn grinned, wider this time. “Not gonna happen, Boss. She’s stuck with me.”

Deverk clapped him on the shoulder as he stood. “That’s the spirit. Now, finish that drink and get some rest. 0630 sharp tomorrow. The big hunt waits for no man.”

Krayn mock-saluted, laughter still in his voice. “Roger that, Boss. I’ll be there. Try not to cry when I outshine you again.”

Deverk snorted, heading toward the cooler. “In your dreams, kid.”

The night stretched on, the fire casting long shadows as laughter and banter filled the space. They weren’t just a unit—they were family, bonded through blood and survival. Stories turned to quiet reflection, and the air hung heavy with shared memories, both good and bad.

Krayn’s gaze drifted to the tablet resting at the edge of the table, dark and silent. Then it chimed softly, its screen flaring to life. A faint flicker of data scrolled across it—lines, patterns, and markers that shifted in rhythmic waves.

Deverk’s back was turned, rummaging in the cooler, as Krayn leaned forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. His eyes darted across the screen, tracing the strange symbols and pulsing indicators. The faint glow reflected in his face as his fingers hovered just above the surface.

“You know that’s against protocol.”

Deverk’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and steady. He didn’t look up from the cooler, his tone carrying an edge that sent a shiver down Krayn’s spine.

Krayn froze, pulling his hand back quickly. “I wasn’t—”

“Save it,” Deverk muttered, turning back with a bottle in hand. His expression betrayed nothing as he took his seat again. “We both know curiosity doesn’t serve long in this line of work.”

Krayn shifted uncomfortably, mumbling something about just checking the time. Deverk let it slide, his eyes narrowing briefly as he studied the younger man. A flicker of disappointment, or perhaps calculation, crossed his face before he turned his attention back to the fire.

The tablet dimmed again, its data now locked into the system. Deverk took a long drink, his thoughts his own, while Krayn avoided his gaze.

“Get some rest,” Deverk said finally, his voice even but distant. “Tomorrow’s going to be… decisive.”

Krayn nodded, standing to leave, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Deverk’s words carried more weight than usual. Behind him, Deverk sat unmoving, his gaze fixed on the tablet, his fingers tapping idly against his drink.

Deverk leaned back in his chair, watching Krayn drain the last of his drink. His gaze lingered for a moment, unreadable. “It’s okay, kid. Have another drink. You’ve got tomorrow sussed—you’re my lead guy.”

Krayn smirked, his confidence flickering in the firelight. “Always, Boss.”

Deverk’s smile was faint, almost imperceptible. “Yeah… things may not work out as usual.”

The fire crackled softly, its light dancing across their faces. Krayn chuckled, brushing off the comment, unaware of the weight behind Deverk’s words. The tablet hummed faintly in the background, its glow fading as Deverk reached for another bottle, his thoughts his own.

The red lines of the crosshairs locked into place, steady and unyielding, as the heat signature of the vermin flickered in the targeting system.

“Target acquired,” the drone AI’s voice rang out, flat and efficient.

“Tracking engaged.”

The forest exploded around them—crystal branches cracking and shattering as the drones pushed forward. Each one tore through the underbrush, their searchlights cutting through the haze of purple pollen and shattered crystal. The target was fast—its movements erratic—but the drones were faster.

“Target marked,” Dervek’s voice crackled through the comm as the red beam spanned the contours of the gully, unbroken as it converged on its prey. The sharp click of the crosshairs locking echoed in his ears.

The vermin veered left, smashing through underbrush, bursts of purple pollen marking its chaotic escape.

Dervek gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the launcher. “Lock in. Contain it now.”

The drones surged forward, engines screaming as they closed in, but the target’s erratic movements made it impossible to maintain a steady lock.

The red lines blinked. Tracking lost.

“Get it back!” Dervek snapped, his voice sharp as the target slipped behind the jagged rocks of the ridge. The pressure in the air thickened; every second felt like an eternity.

Then, a voice.

“It’s here! Shit, it’s coming straight at me!” Krayn’s voice was high-pitched, laced with panic. “I—shit, it touched me! Nope, nope, I’m okay. It missed me, guys! I’m okay… Dervek, pull the drones back! It missed me! Get them away from me, Dervek!” He gasped, his voice trembling, breath quickening.

The vermin darted back suddenly, as if sensing the fear in its hunter.

Dervek’s heart skipped a beat. His visor flicked toward Krayn, his stomach tightening. The drones locked on, the beam aiming at Krayn—the vermin was using him as a shield. It had adapted.

“Damn it!” Dervek roared. “Get away from it!”

The crosshairs jumped, recalibrating on the wrong heat signature. Somehow, it knew.

Maintain primary contamination protocol.

The vermin rushed Krayn, clambering over him before darting toward an opening.

Krayn’s hand shot to his helmet, swiping at the pollen smeared across his visor. “It’s all over me! What the hell—”

The vermin cornered in the gully crouched low behind a jagged boulder, her breaths ragged as the hunter pack’s lights swept the gully. The mechanical hums grew louder, their relentless precision driving her to the edge.

“Vermin located,” the lead drone droned, its voice devoid of emotion.

Her hand closed around a jagged stone, its sharp edges cutting into her palm. She tightened her grip, her muscles tensing as the drone closed in. With a sudden burst of defiance, she sprang up, hurling the rock with all her strength. The crack was sharp and decisive, the impact sending sparks flying as the drone veered wildly.

The damaged machine spiraled out of control, colliding with another and crashing to the ground in a burst of shattered metal and flickering lights.

The hunter pack hesitated, their cold precision disrupted by the unexpected attack. She stood tall, her chest heaving, her voice tearing through the chaos with raw fury:

“I AM HEARTZEN!”

Her words echoed off the gully walls, her name reverberating through the air like a war cry. The hunter pack’s red lights flickered momentarily, a brief pause before they recalibrated and surged forward again.

From his vantage point on the ridge, Krayn froze, his attention locked on the gully below. Her scream, that name—it sent a shock through him, unlocking a buried memory.

“Heartzen,” he whispered, the word barely audible. His eyes widened as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. The tablet. The name had flashed across the screen, etched in glowing data just before the file wiped itself.

“The tablet…” he muttered, his stomach churning as the pieces began to connect.

Before he could process further, Deverk’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What’s the holdup, Krayn? Keep your eyes on the hunt.”

Heartzen’s defiance didn’t last long. The remaining drones recalibrated, their engines roaring as they closed in. The hiss of the net launcher rang out, tangling her legs and pulling her to the ground. She thrashed against the fibers, but the electric charge surged through her body, locking her muscles in place.

The metallic clang of the cage followed, sealing her within its cold embrace. The hunter pack hovered over her, their mechanical voices declaring: “Target neutralized. Prepare for transport.”

But her cry, her name, still echoed in the air, haunting Krayn as he stood frozen on the ridge.

“Vermin snagged, bagged and tagged,” Beta confirmed as a barcode burned into Heartzen’s arm. “Now for the containment, deploy now.”

Two drones flanked Krayn, their lights pulsing in warning. Foam jets hissed as they sprayed his suit, locking down the glowing pollen.

“Don’t move,” one drone announced, its clamps hovering inches from his frame.

Krayn stumbled back, his breath ragged. “Get it off me!”

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