Feral on the Ice
who had just dropped from the clouds.
"You’re the ones," Daxos boomed, his voice amplified by a mechanical larynx. "The 'Feral Six.' The ones who broke the sky and brought a million useless mouths to my doorstep."
"We brought the heat back, Daxos," Kael said, stepping forward. His human muscles were lean, his ribs showing through his shirt. "We brought the light. Now we need the water."
"The water is mine," Daxos replied, tapping a massive hydraulic hammer against the floor. "I’ve spent twenty years keeping these filters running with spit and prayer. If you want the 'Flow,' you have to pay the Iron Tax."