Bound by His Promise
“You always say that before the world changes again.”
She wasn’t wrong.
We ran diagnostics for hours, following the signal down through sub-layers of the network. The pulse echoed through every relay, yet left no trace. Like a ghost walking through walls.
Finally, Rhea stepped back, exhausted.
“Jake used to call residual light ‘afterglow,’ remember?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. He said every end leaves one.”
Her voice softened. “Maybe this is his.”
Outside, sunlight touched the horizon, turning the sky into gold and copper. For a heartbeat, all the city’s towers reflected the same pattern — three flashes, one pause, three flashes again.