He dropped from Baal's back.
The dragon's shadow stretched across the cracked street, swallowing the light.
His own shadows rose before he landed, catching him mid-fall and slowing his descent until his foot touched down gently.
He started toward Daedalus.
Faces turned. Some squinted, trying to place the figure under the helm. Others already knew. Daedalus had known from the first step.
He stopped in front of him. Daedalus didn't move, but his jaw tightened.
"Talk."
The helm broke apart into smoke, curling down into the shadow at his feet. His eyes followed it the whole way, then cut back to Kael's face like he needed to see it for himself.
They moved inside, down into the underground base—somewhere the blasts couldn't touch. The air felt different here. Stuffy. Like he had brought the weight of the sky in with him.
The two sat across from each other. Kael spoke. Daedalus listened, his fingers curling against the table once… then stilling again.
