LOGINPain was biological feedback. Existence felt improbable.I lay on my back in the grit. The sand was cold and abrasive against my raw skin. Each grain was a tiny needle pressing into my flesh. I stared up at a sky that was too vast and too empty.I inhaled the dry, metallic dust of the Bone Wastes. My lungs constricted, burning with the intake of radioactive grit. My diaphragm spasmed. My body felt disjointed, as if the neural connections between my brain and my limbs had been severed."Neoma?"The voice was a low rumble. The vibration traveled through the sand and into my skull.I turned my head. The movement triggered a sharp, stabbing pain at the base of my neck. It took a significant effort to shift my gaze.Viggo was kneeling beside me. His face was a mask of dried blood and black engine grease. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated with a frantic energy. He touched my cheek with a hand that shook. His palm was callused and hot against my cold skin."I'm... here," I rasped.My th
POV: NergalA King does not sweep up glass. He burns the building down.I stood in the center of what used to be the pinnacle of Lycan science. My laboratory—my cathedral of white silence and potential—was now a jagged wound open to the sky.The wind of the upper atmosphere rushed through the hole the Asset had punched in the floor. It was a high-pitched, relentless scream that vibrated in my inner ear. The air was freezing, biting at the exposed skin of my face and hands. It carried the vulgar scents of smoke, singed hair, and the chemical tang of failure.My eardrums popped from the sudden pressure drop. I felt the air being sucked from my lungs."Majesty."A junior technician spoke from the doorway. His voice was a thin, high-pitched tremor that broke twice. He was one of the few who hadn't been in the room when the extraction machine overloaded."The... the fire suppression systems are failing. The structural integrity of the Spire is compromised."I didn't look at him. My gaze wa
POV: ViggoAny landing you walk away from is a functional success. This one was a biological failure point."Fuel critical!" Wolfy screamed.His voice was a high-frequency vibration that set my teeth on edge. The rattle of the dying thrusters traveled through the floor plates, up into the soles of my boots, and settled as a dull ache in my knees.The roar of the drive cut out. The absence of sound was a physical weight pressing against my eardrums. My stomach lurched toward my throat as gravity abandoned us. We were a metal box falling through a vacuum."Brace!" Barzil roared from the rear.I wrapped my arms around Neoma. I curled my frame over hers, quads burning as I locked my boots into the cargo webbing. I buried her face in my chest.My biceps bunched, the fibers straining against the fabric of my shredded jacket. My jaw clenched so hard my molars ground together, sending a sharp, stabbing pain into my temples. I became a cage of bone.Hold, I commanded my nervous system. Be the
POV: NeomaLeaving was harder than arriving. They were leaving biological fragments of themselves behind.Barzil left a dark, iron-scented pool of his own blood on the laboratory floor. Viggo left his innocence in the red fog of the gas chamber, his mind a jagged ruin of trauma. Wolfy left his certainty in the shattered logic of the battle, his pupils still blown wide with shock.And I... I left the girl I used to be strapped to a metal table. She had dissolved into liquid moonlight and black sludge, and she wasn’t coming back."Strap in!" Wolfy shouted.He threw himself into the pilot's seat. His hands were white-knuckled, his fingers twitching as they hovered over the flight controls.The interior of the shuttle was a hollow ribcage of metal. There were no seats—only cargo webbing and cold, exposed ribs. It smelled of heavy industrial lubricant, ozone, and unrefined Barzil ore dust that coated the back of my throat.Viggo shoved me onto a bench bolted to the wall. His hands were gia
POV: BarzilThe past did not manifest as a ghost. It manifested as a blockade.I stood on the white stone of the promenade. The artificial wind whipped my torn uniform around my legs, biting at the exposed skin where the fabric had been sheared away. Behind me, the Vanguard huddled around the unconscious body of Neoma. I felt their presence as a radiant heat against my back—a fragile, biological cargo I was sworn to protect.Ahead of me, blocking the only vector to the Sky Docks, hovered the Silver Dart.It was a Dreadnought class interceptor. It didn't just float; it dominated the airspace. The displacement of air from its thrusters pressed against my chest like a physical hand. The hull, painted silver and blue, bristled with kinetic cannons that tracked our movement with a low, mechanical whir. I felt the vibration of its engines in the soles of my boots—a deep, resonant thrum that rattled my teeth.And on the ramp stood the woman who had once promised to marry me.Commander Ishara
POV: GullerParadise was a cage with flowers.That was the truth of the Apex. It hid its bars behind trellis vines of blooming jasmine and walls of white marble, but it was a prison nonetheless. And right now, the inmates were rioting."Back!" Barzil roared.He swung the flat of his blade. It connected with the ribs of a silk-robed Highblood noble. The impact was a dull thud. The noble stumbled into a rosebush, tearing his finery on the thorns.The noble scrambled up. His eyes were glazed with a fanaticism that wasn't his own. He wielded a silver letter opener. His knuckles were white."For the King! Kill the witches!""They are possessed," I rasped.I leaned heavily on my staff. My legs trembled. We cut a path through the manicured lawn. The air smelled of crushed petals, expensive perfume, and the sharp, copper tang of our own blood. It was a nauseating bouquet."They are in the way," Viggo growled.The Berserker was in the center of our formation. His arms cradled Neoma. She was un







