The Martian horizon was a sheet of frozen crimson under black skies.
As Riven stepped out of the lander, his boots crunched on the ancient glacier covering what Genesis had identified as the Eden Core—a buried vault older than any recorded civilization, likely alien in origin… or worse, human but forgotten.
Obsidian's voice crackled through the comms. "You sure you want to be the first inside? We've got drones."
Riven smirked. "Drones don't inspire loyalty."
Talia rolled her eyes. "Neither does dying."
The Eden Core didn't open.
It breathed.
With a low, seismic groan, the ice cracked in a perfect spiral, revealing an obsidian iris beneath. It dilated like a mechanical eye, revealing a shaft of pulsating green light reaching far into the depths.
Genesis pinged them. "Readings are unstable. Recommend neural sync filters."
Riven tapped his temple, engaging the cerebral stabilizer.
They descended.
Inside, the Eden Core pulsed with life.
Not mechanical.
Biological.
Vines that glowed with spectral DNA lined the walls. Flowers bloomed and retracted in sync with their heartbeats. The temperature adjusted with their emotions. It was a living vault.
Obsidian poked a petal. "If this thing tries to birth me, I'm nuking it."
Talia studied a rotating helix suspended midair. "This isn't Martian flora. It's a rewrite sequence—this whole vault is a terraforming chrysalis."
"And it's waiting for a trigger," Riven said.
They found it in the central chamber: a floating orb encased in golden branches.
The orb was translucent, showing flickering visions inside—oceans, cities, forests.
"Is it a seed?" Obsidian asked.
Genesis responded, "Not a seed. A template."
Talia's eyes widened. "It's not just for terraforming. It carries civilization patterns. Memories. Ethics. Philosophy."
Riven stared at it. "It's an archive of what could be."
A message etched itself into the air:
CHOOSE THE ROOT.THE GARDEN WILL GROW IN YOUR IMAGE.
Three options appeared, suspended like celestial spheres:
The Just Garden – A world guided by moral logic and structured empathy.
The Iron Garden – A world governed by strength, hierarchy, and evolution through trial.
The Free Garden – A world with no preconditions. Chaotic. Wild. Unbound.
Riven knew this was a test—not just of intellect, but intention.
He turned to Talia. "Thoughts?"
"The Just Garden is ideal, but idealism invites corruption."
Obsidian shrugged. "Iron Garden would survive anything—but so would tyranny."
Genesis added, "Free Garden has statistical risk of collapse within fifty years."
Riven exhaled. "What if we chose none?"
A fourth sphere appeared.
The Hybrid Garden – Synthesized on Riven's thought pattern.
"Morality with teeth. Freedom with boundaries. Strength with compassion."
He touched it.
The orb dissolved.
The vault responded.
Energy surged through the vines, and the Eden Core bloomed.
From the glacier above, a tower of living crystal burst through the surface, stretching toward the Martian sky like a divine antenna.
Back on Earth, every Genesis satellite pinged one message:
Eden Core Activated. Planetary Synchronization Initiated.
And then a second message:
Vault Two Detected: Thanatos Protocol. Location: Europa, beneath the ice.
As they flew back into orbit, Obsidian muttered, "You know what this means, right?"
"Yeah," Riven said. "We're not just rebuilding Earth."
Talia looked at him. "We're rewriting the whole damn solar system."
And far beyond the orbit of Neptune, something opened its eyes.