Because the alternative was letting thousands die.
MARIGOLD FOUND ME IN THE corridor outside the war room, Scout on her shoulder. Her dark brown eyes were steady despite the exhaustion I could see in her features.
Keane’s starting evacuations tonight, I said before she could ask.
I know. She stepped closer. Her hand found my chest, her palm flat over my heart. And you’re coordinating tactical response while he works.
Yes.
And he’ll burn himself out because that’s what the master wants and we have no choice.
Yes.
Her hand pressed firmer. Then we make sure we’re there when he falls. We catch him and keep going. Because that’s what partnership means.
I pulled her close and buried my face in her hair, letting myself feel the fear instead of burning it away.
He’s going to break Keane, I said quietly. That’s the play. Force him to burn out his dimensional magic saving people. Leave us without portal support at solstice.
I know.
And Keane’s going to do it anyway because he can’t watch people die when he has the power to save them.
I know, she repeated. Her arms came around me. And we’re going to be there.
What if it’s not enough?
Then we fail together. Her voice held absolute conviction. But at least we won’t fail alone.
Her lips found mine—soft at first but then deeper, grounding and necessary.
Not escape. Affirmation.
27
Keane
FOUR DAYS UNTIL SOLSTICE, AND I was holding reality together with mathematics and will.
The master had forced this, triggered premature synchronization to separate us, to burn me out before solstice. I knew it was a trap.
I opened the portals anyway.
Seven portals opened simultaneously. Dimensional stabilizers ran at 140 percent capacity. Shroud Guard extraction routes became active across six continents. Vienna to London. Tokyo to Seoul. Chicago to Toronto. Cairo to Nairobi. Sydney to Auckland. São Paulo to Lima.
My consciousness extended through dimensional space like a spider’s web—monitoring corruption spread, calculating optimal evacuation paths, maintaining the architecture that kept our people alive.
Wisp flickered beside me, her spectral form stretched thin across multiple anchor points. She was helping stabilize connections that shouldn’t exist and holding geometry that wanted to collapse.
The war room displays showed red alerts blooming across the network, but I had routes planned, contingencies calculated, and every variable accounted for.
If I could just hold the geometry stable, we could buy time.
My hands moved across the tablet with mechanical precision, adjusting dimensional stress loads. Blood leaked from my nose—minor portal strain, acceptable within operational parameters. My vision fractured slightly at the edges—spatial overlap, manageable with focus.
I was over-functioning. I knew it. But someone had to.
Keane. Parker’s voice cut through my concentration. Vienna evacuation is complete. Reroute group seven through—
