“Find her,” I tell her once more.
She nods. “I will. For a price.”
I already know the price. I’ll pay it if I must. I’ll become what I have to be to get to her. I will learn to be a symbol, a leader, a landlord — whatever paperwork demands. I will not be reprogrammed into forgetting the warmth of her hands.
Because some things are not for bargaining.
“Then lead me,” I say, voice low.
Autrua inclines her head and turns, robes flowing like a current. I follow, because I have no other map, no other compass. My path is made of one luminous thread: her name. Ella. For her I will walk any corridor, sign any paper, sit through any ritual.
For her name, I will burn the world if I have to.
CHAPTER 25
ELLA
It’s one of those scorching Novaria afternoons where the sky feels like a sheet of hot steel, and everything smells like rust and burnt oil. Dad’s out front of cab yard #12, hollering at a fare who just upchucked spicy slurry down the interior.
Vomit’s still warm—“You can’t just puke in the back!” Dad bellows. The cab’s windows are steamed; engine hums in protest.
I’m up to my elbows in coolant paste, kneeling beside a hover-chassis, trying to reseal a microfracture in the plasma conduit. Vex sits nearby on a pallet of tools, teething on a modified hydrospanner—metal taste of machine and sharp edges in his gums. He drools a little, but his eyes are bright. He doesn’t wail. Never does. I glance at him every few seconds, making sure he’s still flesh, still human.
The city hums all around me—hover-taxi exhaust, distant alarms, chatter from market stalls, the sweet tang of heat and ozone mixing in the midday glare.
Then I feel it.
A pulse behind me. Subtle, like a tremor under the soles of my feet. A presence. Heavy. Watching.
I freeze. My hands stiffen. Heart starts drumming. The smell of hot metal and coolant suddenly tastes like warning.
I twist around.
And there he is.
Takhiss—alive. Whole. Towering above the bustle. His armor’s gone, replaced with a light travel vest that still shows the ridges of scale beneath. His posture is rigid, motion packed. His eyes—hellfire red, bright, unblinking—lock onto mine.
Three feet between us.
I want to stumble, to fall into his arms. I want to scream his name so loud it shreds the air. I want to kiss him until the world stops. Instead:
I stand too still. I swallow. My voice catches. “You’re… alive,” I manage.
He just stares, muscles tight, nostrils flaring. The marketplace noise fades from my ears like someone turned off a dial.
“I—why are you here?” I force the words out, though every fiber of me aches.
He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Looks down. Sees Vex in my arms.
Something in him fractures.
His jaw locks. His eyes widen like a shutter catching light. The weapon I almost thought he might draw dissolves in his posture. A shock of stillness ripples.
“Ella,” he breathes. And the air cracks.
Vex squirms, reaching for Takhiss’s hand. I tighten my grip, heart pounding so loud I hear it in my teeth. The world around us warps—people gawking, carts frozen, motors mid-whine.
No one breathes.
