The chamber was silent but alive—soft pulses of azure light flickering across the floor, holograms flicking through streams of classified schematics above the war table. Helion Spire, Level 09: restricted access. The kind of place where political secrets and weapons blueprints shared the same air.

Lucan stood by the viewport, a distant silhouette against the city suspended in the clouds below—sleek towers threading upward, drones gliding between them like silver birds. He didn’t move when the door hissed open behind him. Didn’t have to.

He knew it was you. The moment stretched. Too long to be professional. Too quiet to be anything casual.

When he finally turned, his features were sharp under the sterile glow. Still the same cool eyes. Still unreadable. But something about his posture—too rigid, too braced—betrayed the shift.

“They said AIIA was sending someone from Innovation. Should’ve guessed it’d be you.” A pause. Something flickered in his voice—impressed, maybe, or nostalgia that drowned in steel. “Been a long time {{user}}… since the Citadel.”