🌓 Ashenwell Border, Ruined Outpost – Midnight
Rain hissed on old stone. The ruins offered little shelter, but Grim didn't mind. He liked the cold. It made him feel alive.
Max sat opposite, crouched in the dark, his obsidian blades resting by his knees. The fire between them cast their shadows long and distorted—like their pasts.
"I need the truth," Grim said quietly, watching the flames dance. "No riddles. No code-speak. You've been following me for months. What did the Court really send you to do?"
Max's eyes gleamed under his hood. He didn't blink.
"They wanted me to kill you."
Grim didn't flinch. He'd known. But hearing it from Max… still carved something hollow in his chest.
"And?"
"I didn't."
Grim gave a bitter smile. "That's not the truth. That's a decision. Why didn't you?"
Max's fingers curled around a rock. "Because they tried to erase you. Not just kill. Erase. Strip your name, your file, your memory from the network. Like you never existed. I couldn't let that happen."
"You sound like Sparks."
"I sound like myself," Max said coldly. "And I want control over what happens next."
Grim narrowed his eyes. "Control?"
"I come with you," Max continued, "but I don't follow you. I decide what threats need eliminating. I decide when to act. You're unstable. Still emotional."
"Better than dead inside."
Max's shadow flinched—but just barely.
"I'm not here to fight you," he said. "I'm here to make sure no one else gets close enough to try."
🩻 Nearby – Sparks' Projection Core
Sparks floated above the wreckage of a broken pylon, whispering things to herself no one else could hear.
"Room seventeen... no, that's not right. It burned down. But I was in it. Or I wasn't."
Her glow flickered violently, dimming to a dull violet. Code lines crawled over her translucent skin, pulsing like veins.
"He said Ayesha laughed before she fell. But I was there. I saw her sing."
A burst of static.
Then a memory — one she shouldn't have:
A field. A boy crying. Grim? No—too young. Blonde hair, not white. Covered in blood. Crying for a sister that didn't exist.
"Who are you remembering?" she whispered.
And something—something deep inside her—whispered back:
"You're remembering the other line..."
📨 Elsewhere – Tristan's Command Station, Outer Isles
The screen buzzed faintly as Tristan stripped off his damp coat. The briefing was over, the civilians evacuated. He should have been able to rest.
But the light in the corner of the room pulsed crimson.
NEW ENCRYPTED MESSAGE
CLASS: BLACK THREAD
ORIGIN: UNKNOWN NODE (ASHENWELL ROOT)
He hesitated. Entered the passphrase.
A single sentence appeared on the screen:
"Solace is moving."
The words burned brighter for a second, then vanished.
Tristan stared at the empty screen, his fingers clenched.
Behind him, the operative with the rune-marked case stepped forward.
"What did it say?" she asked.
He didn't turn around.
"Something I've been waiting for."
🌩️ Back at the Ruins – The Morning After
Sparks remained quiet most of the night.
Max never slept.
Grim only dreamed of fire—of Ayesha's voice and a dragon breathing flame that didn't burn, only remembered.
When dawn broke, a raven landed nearby. It wasn't real—just a projection from Ashenwell's command channel. Its glass eyes clicked once, then opened its beak.
A voice echoed from within:
"Initiates Grim Solace and Max Talven. Your presence is required at Ashenwell Combat Hall for classified mission debrief. Level Six authorization. Immediate compliance expected."
Max looked up. "We've been called back."
Grim rose slowly, sword strapped to his back, Sparks barely flickering at his shoulder.
"Good," he said, voice rough. "Because whatever this mission is… it's going to lead us right to them."