They were simply stepping in where I couldn’t hold it alone.
The medical ward’s healing wards thrummed steadily. Outside, I could hear coordination continuing. The system was functioning without me.
That should have been terrifying, should have confirmed every fear I’d ever had about being insufficient. Instead, it felt like exhaling after holding my breath for months.
We’ll figure it out. Together.
What if together isn’t enough?
Then we fail together too. Her dark brown eyes held absolute conviction. But at least we won’t fail alone.
The weight in my chest didn’t disappear. The knowledge that intelligence wasn’t sufficient, that control couldn’t protect everyone, that even perfect execution led to loss—that stayed.
But the crushing responsibility of holding everything lifted slightly.
Shared burden. Distributed weight. Trust.
I closed my eyes, feeling exhaustion pull me under. Marigold’s hand remained steady in mine. Cyrus’s presence guarded the door. Elio emanated quiet support.
I’d let go of control, of calculation, of being the answer. And still, reality held.
Not because of mathematics or will. But because of them.
28
Marigold
TWO DAYS SINCE KEANE’S COLLAPSE. Forty-eight hours of emergency operations running on conventional evacuation while corruption spread faster than we could contain it.
The medical center smelled like healing magic and things we couldn’t undo.
I stood in the doorway of Raven’s room at three in the morning, Scout curled beneath my hoodie, vibrating against my ribs.
Raven was awake. That should have been good news.
Lucas sat beside her, his fingers laced through hers like he could anchor her with contact alone. His familiar perched silently on the headboard, her skull-bright eyes watching. Boris crawled in fitful loops across the bedside table, his exoskeleton twitching with each uneven step.
She’d been improving—slowly and painfully but improving.
Then the master activated his network two days ago, and the command had hit her too. It sent her convulsing, screaming fragments of his orders while Aurora and Lucas held her through it.
The progress she’d made—gone. Reset. Maybe worse than before.
Hey, Mari, Raven said, her voice slow, like each word took sorting.
Hey. I crossed the threshold carefully, my necromancy banked low. The dead things in the walls stirred, uneasily.
Raven blinked at me. Her smile wavered. Lucas was telling me about…
She paused, her brow furrowed as she looked at him.
The new ward protocols, he supplied gently. Parker’s deployment strategy.
Right. That. Her shoulders eased with visible relief. That’s important.
Every sentence came out like it had to fight to form.
Aurora appeared in the doorway, two cups of coffee in hand. She looked exhausted—shadows under her eyes, her copper hair pulled back messily. She’d refused to leave after Raven’s activation episode.
