The Throne Room
Tanaka stood in the palace hall with her sisters, hands folded, posture composed.
Bizure stood among them.
They had been summoned for rewards.
At the far end of the chamber, the Queen sat upon her throne with her back to the room. Her face was never shown — only the slow, deliberate drift of the pollen coat marked her presence, the gold of it moving in the still air like something breathing.
"It's quite ironic," the Queen said evenly, "that I'm harbouring the daughters of the enemy. But it's clear where your allegiances lie."
A pause.
"For standing up against Chandler."
Maka stepped forward.
The Queen authorised her reward. A pair of gliders strapped along her arms, expanding and retracting like beetle wings — Rosary Pea technology, built for speed and open air. Maka bowed once, jaw set.
Kuna was called next. A fitted sleeve lined with retractable needle-like thorns — precision work, injection or weapon depending on what she loaded. Kuna bowed deeply.
Tanaka stepped forward.
The Queen granted her a lifetime pass into the Kariba Forest.
A quiet stir moved through the hall. The crater where Hwange had landed. A place of origin and consequence, restricted to almost everyone alive.
Tanaka lowered her head, stunned.
Finally, Bizure was addressed. The Queen did not turn. A baton was presented — dense and refined, capable of storing and releasing kinetic energy. "A gift worthy of an officer of your calibre."
Bizure accepted it with a bow.
Behind him, the Queen's proxy looked away.
Sadness lingered in her eyes.
Stone cracked.
Moto's vision slammed back into existence.
He came through the palace entrance on instinct, boots scraping stone, each step leaving something dark behind it. Guards parted as he pushed forward, breath ragged, shoulders trembling with the effort of staying upright.
Whispers followed him through the hall.
He didn't hear them.
He reached the throne room.
His upper body was burned raw — skin split and blackened, blood marking the floor with every step. Attendants in white and blue rushed behind him, cleaning the trail as fast as he made it.
Tanaka saw him. Her breath caught and she moved forward.
Bizure caught her arm. "No."
Moto dropped to one knee.
"Please." His voice was hoarse. "Let my friends go."
The Queen's voice reached him, distant and cold. "What are you talking about?"
He forced himself upright.
"Please."
Bizure stepped forward smoothly. "He means the prisoners. He's delirious."
The Queen considered this for a moment. "No," she said. "I need all the manpower I can get."
The dismissal was absolute.
Moto's jaw tightened. "I'm not asking."
His voice shook. It didn't bend.
Bizure snapped. "How dare you—"
The kick came fast.
Glass exploded outward.
Tanaka screamed.
The window sealed itself instantly, pollen knitting the shards whole.
Maka was already moving. She shattered it again and jumped, gliders snapping open as she dove after him.
Kuna followed.
Tanaka ran.
The Tunnels
They brought him into the old rebel tunnels beneath the city — abandoned, unlit, the walls still carrying the ghost of everything that had been planned there.
Moto stirred.
"Don't move," the sisters said, holding him down. "You'll make it worse."
"There's no time." His voice was raw. "If they find out what I did — my family—"
Tanaka stepped closer. "What do you mean? Who did this to you?"
Moto went still.
"...I did," he said.
Silence.
"Why?" Tanaka asked quietly.
He closed his eyes.
The battlefield. Charred earth and broken stone. Fire still crawling across the ground near the crater's edge. Gwen's body jammed into a crack in the crater wall.
Gwen had descended — armoured, white-hot, driving downward with everything he had.
One more Dash Step. Everything Moto's muscles had left.
He twisted forward, coiled, snapped back, rolling clear as the heat tore across his shoulder. His fist ignited.
The blow crushed into the back of Gwen's head.
He flipped him over.
Fire swallowed Moto's upper body and he started punching. Again. Again. Bare skin on bone, flames consuming him, pain driving him further in. He didn't want to stop.
Moto opened his eyes.
"I let my anger get the better of me," he said. "And honestly — it hasn't subsided." He looked at the ceiling. "We need to free the others and get to Nyika. Immediately."
Tanaka turned away from him, shaking. She walked out of the room.
Kuna knelt beside him and opened the container. She poured the acid carefully. Moto's skin began to reform slowly, the flesh knitting itself back under her hands. The pain was the same whether the body was raw or reforming.
He didn't flinch.
Kuna spoke quietly to keep his mind elsewhere. She asked about Lilly.
Moto stared at the ceiling.
"All I did," he said, "was disappoint her."
He thought of everything she'd cared about, everything she'd worked toward.
All of it now in chains.