MY CRUEL PROTECTOR
I was becoming the Architect of nothing.
Then, I saw a spark.
It wasn't violet. It was a dull, stubborn grey. It was a tiny, jagged light that refused to be consumed by the storm. It was Nevan.
He was walking through the data-stream, his "avatar" a bruised and battered version of the man I loved. He was bleeding digital ink, his form flickering as the Sovereign’s firewalls tried to shred him. But he didn't stop. He was moving toward me, his hand outstretched, his jaw set in that iron line.