Then Spectra’s mech cracks open, split down the center by our strike. The core—her heart—detonates in a burst of color so bright it breaks the sky.
The sound is silence.
We hang there, Whiplash hovering in the aftermath, smoke curling off her shoulders like incense. The battlefield’s gone still. No Nexxus drones remain. No movement but wind. Just the smell of ozone and scorched sand.
“Aria?” Naull’s voice is soft, low, almost afraid.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
“We did it.”
“Yeah.” My throat’s tight. “We did.”
The Meld hums between us—not frantic anymore. Not burning. Just steady. Warm. It feels like breathing after drowning.
But underneath it all, there’s something else. A flicker in the comms. A static hum that’s too familiar.
A child’s laugh.
Garma.
He’scalling.
And in that instant, every hair on my body stands on end. The horizon glows gold. The dust stirs like breath.
Naull looks at me. I look at him.
Neither of us says a word.
CHAPTER 29
NAULL
Garma reaches for me with both hands—tiny, claw-tipped fingers that curl in the air like instinct knows I’m his before words do. His eyes are gold like mine, but lighter, molten-sun bright. There’s a flicker of confusion in them when I don’t move right away, just freeze like my spine’s fused. Aria’s behind him, crouched, one steadying hand on his shoulder, her other still holding that damn tablet she’s barely looked away from for weeks. Her mouth is slightly open, like she’s waiting to see if this moment?—
It might.
“Daddy.”
That’s what he says.
That’s what he calls me.
“Daddy.”
He takes a step forward. Wobbly. Brave.
I drop to my knees without thinking.
He barrels into me, all warmth and weight and babbled half-syllables, and I catch him against my chest like the universe just handed me the only thing worth surviving for. He smells like fabric softener and static, like Aria’s shampoo and somethingwild underneath—like storm winds and new roots. His little tail flicks once, brushing my side.
I’m crying.
I don’t even realize it until Aria’s hand brushes my shoulder, warm and steady, and I feel the wetness on my cheeks. I turn to look at her, and she’s blinking fast, lashes clumped together, mouth trembling.
“You okay?” she whispers.
I can’t speak.
