Night settles over the Troylon Wall like a held breath.

  Floodlights burn along the upper deck, casting sharp white lines across steel and stone, but beyond their reach the world is nothing but darkness and distant wind. Hundreds no, thousands of WEO personnel stand in formation, ranks clean and unmoving. Dauntless. Astralis Guard. Veterans and fresh blood alike, all facing forward.

  I stand among them, hands at my sides, spine straight.

  My mind isn’t.

  Every sound feels too loud. Every movement at the edge of my vision pulls my attention. Since yesterday, my body hasn’t forgotten what it felt like to lose her.To watch her disappear into a rift.

  No one here knows.

  And I keep it that way.

  At the front, on an elevated platform built directly into the wall, Raphael and Carmen stand side by side. Two overseers. Two pillars of WEO. Wind tugs at Raphael’s coat, the fabric snapping softly as he steps forward.

  His voice carries without effort.

  “Today,” Raphael says, calm and iron-steady, “we execute Operation—”

  The name follows, sharp and deliberate, but my thoughts slide past it, latching onto the word that matters.

  Today.

  “This operation will determine the fate of a Syndicate research facility located deep within reclaimed hostile territory,” Raphael continues. “The Skyborn Legion has already departed and is currently en route to the target location. We will rendezvous with them upon arrival.”

  A murmur ripples through the ranks, quickly stilled.

  “Our objective is infiltration,” he says. “You are to breach the facility, locate and recover any viable experiments, data cores, or living assets. Priority is extraction, not engagement.”

  His gaze hardens.

  “Once the operation begins, you will have exactly three hours.”

  A pause.

  “Three hours before Hell’s Armada arrives.”

  That lands heavier than any shout.

  “Once the Armada begins bombardment, the site will be erased. Anyone still inside will not be recovered. You are advised to evacuate before the first shell lands.”

  No dramatics. No sugarcoating.

  Just facts.

  Cases are brought out next—sleek black containers distributed down the lines with practiced efficiency. When one reaches me, I open it to find two items nestled inside foam.

  A contact lens.

  And a bracelet.

  Carmen steps forward this time, her voice precise and clinical.

  “The bracelet is your lifeline,” she says. “It monitors vitals, tracks position, and transmits distress signals. If it goes offline, we will know.”

  She gestures to the lens.

  “These lenses are imprinted with a visual relay system. They allow command to see what you see. More importantly, they allow us to map the interior of the facility in real time. The base’s layout is unstable. It shifts.”

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  A few people tense at that.

  “These feeds will let us adapt,” Carmen finishes. “Trust the system.”

  I slip the bracelet on. Cool metal against my wrist. It locks with a faint click, pulsing once as it syncs. The lens goes in next, the world flickering briefly before information overlays fade into the periphery of my vision.

  Raphael steps forward again.

  “I won’t lie to you,” he says. “What you’re about to do is dangerous. Some of you will be pushed beyond your limits.”

  His eyes sweep over the formation. Over us.

  “But you are here because you are capable. Because you have already chosen to stand where others cannot.”

  The wind rises.

  “Protect each other,” Raphael says. “Complete the mission. And come back alive.”

  A beat.

  “Godspeed.”

  The formation breaks.

  People move fast now, tension snapping into motion as squads peel off toward transport vessels waiting behind the deck. Engines hum to life. Ramps lower.

  I head toward ours, boots echoing hollowly. Inside, familiar faces already fill the cabin—my squad, Eli’s, Victor and Violet’s. Some talk quietly. Others sit in silence, eyes closed, breaths slow and controlled.

  I take a seat and strap in.

  The engines roar louder, vibrations running up through the floor as the aircraft lifts. My stomach dips as the deck falls away, replaced by open night.

  We fly toward a section of the wall I haven’t seen before. Embedded into it is a massive structure—rings arranged horizontally, slowly rotating, glowing faintly blue.

  A warp sling.

  The aircraft aligns. The rings accelerate, spinning faster and faster until the air itself seems to shimmer. Blue particles cling to the hull like sparks frozen in motion.

  “Hold on tight,” Violet says from across the cabin. “We’re about to jump.”

  Seatbelts tighten. Someone swears under their breath.

  The pilot’s voice crackles through the comms. “Warp sling charged. Launching in three… two…”

  The button is pressed.

  Light engulfs us.

  For a fraction of a second, it feels like my body is being pulled apart and reassembled simultaneously. Sound disappears. Weight vanishes. Then—

  Impact.

  The world snaps back into place.

  Outside the windows, a new sky stretches overhead. The land below is wrong. Barren. Cracked earth and skeletal ruins as far as I can see.

  “Welcome to California,” a voice says over comms, dry with humor. “Or what’s left of it.”

  Maelisa.

  Ahead, shapes loom through the haze. The Skyborn Legion’s base—an aerial sprawl of platforms and towers suspended above the ruins.

  And beyond it—

  The Liberator.

  It dominates the sky.

  A colossal flying fortress, vast enough to cast a shadow like a city. Angular towers rise from its surface, reinforced plating layered thick along its hull. Massive thrusters churn beneath it, MP-fueled energy roaring in contained fury as it hangs in the air, defying gravity through sheer force and design.

  Retractable runways line its sides. Weapon arrays bristle along its underside.

  It is beautiful.

  And terrifying.

  More transport vessels appear around us, blue light flaring as they arrive one after another. We fall into formation behind the Liberator as it advances, slow and unstoppable.

  The research base comes into view minutes later—a sprawling, angular complex half-buried into the land. Sirens wail as its defenses activate. Turrets swivel. Shields flare weakly against the aftermath of prior damage.

  Inside the Liberator’s operations room, Maelisa stands at the center, flanked by officers and glowing panels of data. Though she cannot see it, she faces the battlefield as if she can.

  “Impressive defenses,” she remarks calmly.

  She turns her head slightly. “Have any of you ever seen a supernova up close?”

  Confused looks ripple through the younger officers.

  Maelisa reaches into her jacket and produces a key.

  She inserts it into a glass-cased slot.

  The room floods red.

  Deep within the Liberator, something massive shifts. A cannon lowers from the fortress’s belly, its barrel unfolding, segments locking into place as energy begins to gather.

  “Cover your eyes and ears,” Maelisa says lightly.

  Taro steps up beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  She presses the button.

  The cannon fires.

  A miniature sun is born.

  It expands outward, blazing white-hot, then detonates—an artificial supernova ripping through the air. The shockwave follows, obliterating everything in its path.

  For four seconds, a black hole forms at the center of the blast, space itself folding inward before collapsing in on itself with a thunderous implosion.

  The base’s exterior is shredded.

  Defenses vanish.

  Silence follows.

  Maelisa exhales. “About half a trillion dollars,” she says thoughtfully. “Worth it.”

  She shrugs. “Back us up. We need maintenance.”

  Our transport surges forward.

  “Drop point approaching,” the pilot announces. The rear door opens, cold wind screaming into the cabin.

  Aiden stands. “Try not to die before me.”

  Elijah grins sharply. Victor cracks his neck. Violet steps forward without a word.

  They jump.

  One by one, we follow.

  The ground rushes up to meet us, half-destroyed base yawning open beneath falling bodies and fire.

  As I fall, heart hammering, I think of Kristine.

  *I’ll save you,* I promise silently. *Don’t worry.*

  Far away, within the Troylon Wall, Raphael watches the feeds light up.

  Panels upon panels of data. Vital signs. Live video.

  He straightens.

  “Operation Dawnbreak” Raphael announces, voice steady as steel, “has begun.”

  [End of Chapter]