Nobody volunteered.
By noon, that had become the most important fact in the country.
The government didn’t say it like that, obviously.
Official statements used words like assessment, coordination, strategic restraint, and ongoing intelligence review.
The news was less polite.
HERO AGENCIES REFUSE YGROS DEPLOYMENT FLAG-BEARERS RECOMMEND AGAINST ENGAGEMENT MILITARY EXPANDS NORTHERN ROCKIES EXCLUSION ZONE WHO WILL FIGHT THE FIRST APOCALYPSE?
I stopped reading after the fourth headline.
Grant took the tablet from me.
“Good.” “I wasn’t finished.” “You were getting angry at strangers on the internet.” “I can multitask.” “Congratulations.” He placed the tablet facedown on the table.
I considered taking it back.
Didn’t.
That probably counted as personal growth.
We were sitting in one of the smaller briefing rooms beneath the rehabilitation facility.
No windows.
Gray walls.
One table.
Four chairs.
I’d spent enough time in government buildings to know that the nicer the room, the less important the conversation usually was.
This room was ugly.
That worried me.
Grant sat across from me with coffee.
I had water.
Apparently coffee was still something medical staff wanted me to consume “responsibly.” Three and a half years trapped in ice, and caffeine was where everyone drew the line.
The door opened.
President Evelyn Cross walked in.
Alone.
Grant checked the clock.
“You’re late.” “I’m the President.” “Doesn’t make you less late.” She ignored him.
That was probably why they got along.
Cross placed a thin black folder on the table and sat beside me.
Not across.
Beside.
I looked at the folder.
Then her.
“No.” She blinked.
“I haven’t said anything.” “You brought a folder.” “Folders frighten you?” “Government folders do.” Grant lifted his coffee.
“Good instinct.” Cross gave him a look.
Then she pushed the folder toward me.
I didn’t touch it.
“Kai.” There it was.
I turned automatically.
That bothered me less than it used to.
Which bothered me in a different way.
Cross noticed.
She noticed everything.
“We need to talk about Ygros.” “I figured.” “The situation changed this morning.” “Did it start doing something?” “No.” “Then what changed?” Cross folded her hands.
“We ran out of reasonable ways to learn more.” That wasn’t the answer I’d expected.
Grant’s expression hardened.
Cross continued.
“Ygros has settled deep within the Northern Rockies.
Its movement has slowed considerably.
We don’t know why.” “Then leave it alone.” “That’s currently what everyone is doing.” “Sounds smart.” “It is.” I looked at her.
There was a second half coming.
“But?” Cross glanced toward the folder.
“We cannot assume it will remain there.” Of course.
She opened it.
Satellite photographs covered the first page.
Mountains.
Storm systems.
A dark shape between them.
Even from that altitude, Ygros looked wrong.
Cross turned the page.
Maps.
Chile.
Peru.
North.
A path across continents.
I’d seen pieces of it on the news.
Not like this.
Red markers covered the route.
Military encounters.
Destroyed monitoring stations.
Core disturbances.
Monster migrations.
Recovered fragments.
Every place Ygros had stopped.
I leaned closer.
“These are the relic sites.” “Some of them.” “Not all?” “Some stops have no known connection.” “Known.” Cross nodded.
Good.
At least she wasn’t pretending certainty.
Another page.
The Emory fragment.
The thing that had been inside the gravel beetle.
Not the actual object.
Photographs.
Research notes.
A diagram of the containment shell that had grown around me.
Then my sword.
I stopped turning pages.
Grant’s coffee touched the table.
Quietly.
Cross watched me.
“Ygros asked for ice.” “Maybe.” “Yes.
Maybe.” “He crushed the other shard.” “Yes.” “My sword reacts to him.” “Yes.” “My Core reacts too.” “Yes.” I looked at the satellite image again.
“And you think he’s looking for me.” “No.” That made me pause.
Cross tapped the photographs.
“I think he’s looking for something.” “Helpful.” “I think the Emory relic was connected to it.
I think your containment was connected to it.
I think your sword is connected to it.
And I think Ygros recognizes that connection.” “But you don’t know whether he recognizes me.” “Correct.” I leaned back.
“Then what’s the conversation?” Cross looked directly at me.
“We’re considering sending you to him.” Grant’s chair scraped backward.
“No.” Cross didn’t look away from me.
“I said considering.” “I’m not.” “Grant.” “No.” I stared at her.
For some reason, I wasn’t surprised.
Maybe I should’ve been.
A month ago, probably.
Before the sword.
Before Ygros.
Before watching every powerful hero organization on the planet decide that charging into an unknown fight was stupid.
Now?
It almost made sense.
Almost.
“You want me to fight him?” “No.” That surprised me.
Grant didn’t sit down.
Cross continued.
“I do not believe you can defeat Ygros.” “Great.” “I don’t believe the Flag-Bearers can defeat Ygros with the information we currently have.” That hurt in a strange way.
Not because I disagreed.
Because hearing her say it made the situation real.
“What about the strongest heroes?” “Same answer.” I frowned.
“Then why send anybody?” “Because Ygros isn’t behaving like a monster.” I looked at her.
Grant’s mouth twitched.
She continued.
“Ygros chooses targets.
It changes tactics.
It recognizes threats.
It speaks.
It searches.
It has repeatedly ignored civilians when they weren’t relevant to its objective.” “So?” “So I don’t think this starts with a fight.” Grant finally spoke.
“And when you’re wrong?” “We extract him.” “You’ve seen how fast Ygros moves.” “Yes.” “Then stop saying extraction like it’s a magic spell.” Cross’s jaw tightened.
There it was.
Not President Cross.
Evelyn.
The woman who knew exactly how bad the idea sounded.
“I know.” Grant stared at her.
“Do you?” “Yes.” “You want to put a seventeen-year-old who couldn’t walk without assistance a few months ago in front of an Apocalypse.” “I know exactly what I’m asking.” “No.
You’re calculating what you can afford to lose.” The room went quiet.
Cross looked at him.
Grant didn’t look away.
Neither did I.
Then Cross said: “If that were true, I wouldn’t be asking him.” Grant’s expression changed slightly.
Cross turned to me.
“This is not an order.” I almost laughed.
“That’s becoming a theme.” “And it will remain one.” “Why?” “Because enough decisions about your life have already been made without you.” That shut me up.
She didn’t soften it.
Didn’t apologize.
Just let it exist.
I looked down at the folder.
My sword.
The ice.
The beetle.
Ygros.
All of it connected by lines nobody understood.
“What exactly would I be doing?” “Initial objective is contact.” Grant swore quietly.
Cross continued.
“A military transport takes you into the exclusion zone.
It gets you as close as possible without entering Ygros’s immediate environmental distortion.
You deploy from there.” “Alone?” “On the ground, yes.” “No,” Grant said.
I ignored him.
“What happens after I deploy?” “You observe.” “That’s it?” “You’ve been doing it your entire life.” That irritated me.
Mostly because it was true.
“Observe what?” “Everything.” Cross turned another page.
“No one has gotten close enough to Ygros without attacking him or being perceived as a threat.
We don’t know whether he will initiate violence against someone who doesn’t.” “So I’m the experiment.” “No.” I looked at her.
She corrected herself.
“You’re the risk.” Better.
Not much.
“But there’s another reason.” Of course there was.
Cross tapped the image of my sword.
“We intend to send this with you.” I stared.
“Obviously.” “If Ygros is searching for the same phenomenon that created your containment, your sword may produce a response.” “From him.” “Or from itself.” “And if he wants it?” Cross didn’t answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Grant did not like that.
“Absolutely not.” I looked at him.
He pointed at the folder.
“You are not handing an unknown Apocalypse the unknown weapon created by the unknown phenomenon it has crossed half a continent looking for.” “When you say it like that…” “That’s exactly what it is.” Cross rubbed her forehead.
“We are not instructing Kai to give Ygros anything.” “Good.” “If Ygros attempts to take it, Kai withdraws.” “Better.” “If Ygros attacks, Kai withdraws.” “Good.” “If Ygros changes the weather, Kai withdraws.” I raised a hand.
“That one’s going to be difficult.” Neither laughed.
Fine.
Cross closed the folder.
“You do not win.” I looked at her.
“That’s your mission.” Something about the sentence felt familiar.
Grant’s training.
The rescue dummy.
Ortiz.
The Breakhorn.
All those times I’d been given a sword and assumed the sword was the point.
Cross continued.
“You do not prove anything.
You do not test yourself.
You do not stay because you think you see an opening.” Grant nodded once.
“If something feels wrong, you leave.” “Everything about Ygros feels wrong.” “Then something feels more wrong.” Fair.
Cross leaned toward me.
“Your objective is to come back with information.” “And if he follows me?” The room went quiet again.
That was the question.
Cross looked at the maps.
“We’ve selected the engagement zone because it’s remote.
No populated area within the evacuation perimeter.
Airspace cleared.
Ground traffic cleared.
If Ygros follows, the operation changes.” “To what?” “We learn that he’s following you.” I hated how logical that was.
“So either way you get information.” “Yes.” “Even if I die.” Grant moved.
Cross answered before he could.
“Yes.” Silence.
There it was.
The ugly truth.
I appreciated it more than a lie.
Cross looked at me.
“If you die, we learn something.” Grant’s hands curled.
“But that is not why I’m sending you.” “Considering.” She nodded.
“Considering.” I stared at Ygros.
Thirty feet.
Six arms.
Black armor.
Red eyes.
Regeneration.
Core pressure beyond calibrated limits.
Weather distorted around him.
Intelligent enough to learn from heroes.
Strong enough that people far better than me had looked at the available information and said no.
The correct decision was obvious.
So I asked: “Why hasn’t he attacked a city?” Cross blinked.
Grant sat back down.
“What?” “He’s had opportunities.” I turned the map toward myself.
“Here.” I pointed.
“Then here.” Another.
“He passed close enough to both that evacuation wouldn’t have stopped him.” Cross leaned in.
“He changed direction.” “Exactly.” I followed the red path.
“Military installations attacked him.” “Yes.” “He destroyed them.” “Yes.” “Heroes attacked him.” “He responded.” “Relic shard.” “He took it and destroyed it.” I looked at her.
“Ygros isn’t killing whatever’s closest.” “No.” “He’s doing something.” “Yes.” “And nobody knows what.” “No.” I stared at the map.
Watch.
Remember.
Notice.
Think.
The words came back without permission.
Fourteen years old.
No power.
No sword.
Just notebooks and stupid amounts of monster anatomy.
Before everything.
“What happens if everyone keeps saying no?” Cross answered carefully.
“We continue evacuation and observation.” “Until?” “Until Ygros acts.” “And if the next thing he does is enter a city?” “We respond.” “Blind.” “Yes.” I hated that.
Grant saw it.
“Kai.” I looked at him.
“You don’t owe anybody this.” “I know.” “You don’t owe the government.” “I know.” “You don’t owe heroes.” “I know.” “You don’t owe those nine.” That one hit.
He didn’t know why.
I kept my face still.
“I know.” Grant leaned forward.
“Then don’t make the decision like you do.” I looked at the folder again.
Maybe that was the problem.
Part of me wanted to go because of them.
Benny.
Threya.
Frank.
Emi.
Toma.
Kenya.
Paul.
Montiro.
Beth.
They’d said no.
And I was glad.
I didn’t want them anywhere near Ygros.
That wasn’t fair.
I knew that.
If I went because I wanted to keep them safe, then I was doing exactly what Grant had warned me about.
Trying to make up for lost time.
Trying to be useful enough to justify surviving.
Trying to become something faster because the world had moved without me.
I stood.
Cross watched.
“I need time.” “Take it.” “How much?” “Ygros hasn’t moved in nine hours.” “That’s not an answer.” “Two hours.” I nodded.
Then left.
I didn’t go to my room.
I went outside.
The facility had a small courtyard behind the rehabilitation wing.
I’d spent weeks walking circles around it when fifty steps felt like a victory.
Then a hundred.
Then five hundred.
Then running.
Then complaining that Grant’s stopwatch was broken.
It wasn’t.
Unfortunately.
I sat on the low concrete wall near the edge.
The sky was clear.
Normal.
I liked normal weather now.
I didn’t think about Ygros at first.
I thought about Mom.
That was worse.
I still hadn’t seen her.
Not really.
Calls arranged through layers.
Updates.
Promises.
Protection.
Soon.
Always soon.
If I died in the Rockies before seeing her again, she’d find a way to resurrect me just to kill me herself.
That almost decided it.
Almost.
Then I thought about the ice.
Three and a half years.
Everyone speaking around me.
Doctors.
Researchers.
Tour guides.
My friends.
Mom.
Everyone deciding what I was because they thought I couldn’t answer.
The world had made Akio Kita into a story while I was still alive inside it.
Then I’d woken up and the government gave me another story.
Kai Skyline.
I hated that name at first.
Maybe part of me still did.
But Grant called me Kai.
Sato called me Kai.
Daniel called me Kai.
I turned when people shouted it.
I wrote it without stopping now.
Somewhere along the way, the fake name had started collecting real things.
That scared me more than I liked admitting.
I reached into my pocket.
The Saturday picture wasn’t there.
I’d stopped carrying it everywhere.
Good.
I could see it anyway.
Ten idiots by the river.
I remembered exactly where everyone stood.
Exactly what Benny said before the picture.
Exactly what Threya’s shoulder felt like against mine.
I remembered looking at her instead of the camera.
That life was real.
So was this one.
Maybe I didn’t have to choose which one counted before making every decision.
I looked at my hands.
They weren’t shaking.
Not yet.
I thought about the gravel beetle.
Frank impaled.
Everyone panicking.
Me seeing the rear plate.
I hadn’t killed it because I was brave.
I killed it because there was a problem in front of me and I saw something other people didn’t.
Ygros wasn’t a beetle.
That comparison was insulting to beetles.
But the principle remained.
Nobody understood him.
I might not either.
Still… I had something nobody else did.
Not strength.
A connection.
Maybe.
A sword.
Definitely.
And eyes.
Those had always been mine.
I stood.
Damn it.
Cross knew before I spoke.
I could tell by her face.
Grant did too.
He looked disappointed.
Not angry.
That was worse.
“I’ll go.” Nobody celebrated.
Good.
Cross asked: “Why?” Of course she did.
I looked at Grant.
Then her.
“Because I’m not going to fight him.” Grant’s expression didn’t change.
“I’m going because we need to know what he wants.” “And if you can’t determine that?” “I leave.” “If you see an opening?” “Not my objective.” “If Ygros challenges you?” “Not my objective.” “If he attacks?” “I survive long enough to leave.” Grant stared at me.
“That’s a bad plan.” “It’s better than my usual ones.” “Low bar.” Cross folded her arms.
“One more time.” I sighed.
“What?” “You can change your mind.” “I know.” “At the runway.” “I know.” “On the aircraft.” “I know.” “Before deployment.” “I know.” “If you decide you cannot do it, nobody gets to call that cowardice.” That surprised me.
I nodded.
“Okay.” Cross opened the folder again.
Then she turned past the operational pages.
The next sheet had no maps.
No Ygros.
Just me.
Photograph.
Height.
Age.
Blue eyes.
Black hair.
And the name: KAI SKYLINE I stared at it.
“What’s this?” “Public profile.” My stomach sank.
“No.” “We can’t deploy an unidentified teenager into a nationally monitored exclusion zone without explanation.” “You absolutely can.” “We absolutely cannot.” “Classify me.” “You are classified.” “Great.
Problem solved.” “The operation will be visible.” “Why?” “Satellites.
International observers.
News aircraft outside the exclusion zone.
Civilian monitoring.
We cannot hide a military transport entering the Rockies.” “So don’t tell them who’s inside.” Cross looked at me.
“We need control of the information before someone else gets it.” There it was.
Politics.
I leaned back.
“What are you telling them?” “As little as possible.” She pointed.
“Name.
Age.
Affiliation classified.
Hero rank unassigned.” I looked at the last one.
“Unassigned?” “You haven’t undergone formal hero evaluation.” Good.
No fake rank.
No neat number pretending anyone understood me.
“Ability?” “Classified.” “Training?” “Classified.” “History?” “Classified.” I almost laughed.
“So I’m basically a name.” “Yes.” I stared at it.
Kai Skyline.
This wasn’t a hospital bracelet.
Not a rehabilitation schedule.
Not a government ID hidden in my pocket.
The world was going to hear it.
Millions of people.
Maybe more.
And somewhere among them… No.
I knew.
They would hear it too.
My nine friends.
My mother.
Everyone who remembered Akio Kita.
My throat tightened.
“What about Akio?” Cross didn’t pretend not to understand.
“Nothing changes.” The words hurt anyway.
“Publicly, Akio Kita remains contained.” “In the museum.” “Restricted preservation wing.” “Same lie.” “Yes.” I looked at my photograph.
“So they see this face and hear that name.” “Yes.” “And if somebody recognizes me?” Cross paused.
“Do you think they will?” I thought about Benny.
Threya.
Beth.
Three and a half years.
My hair.
My face.
My body.
My age.
The impossible expectation that Akio Kita was still frozen somewhere behind government walls.
“No.” The answer came quietly.
Then I thought about Beth noticing everything.
Benny reaching for my drink.
Threya knowing how I laughed.
Small things.
Maybe faces weren’t the dangerous part.
Cross slid the profile closer.
“Once we release this, Kai Skyline becomes public.” I looked at her.
“He already exists.” “Not like this.” She was right.
Until now, Kai had existed inside controlled rooms.
Government records.
Training grounds.
A few carefully managed places.
Tomorrow, people could search the name.
Talk about it.
Argue about it.
Hate it.
Cheer for it.
Make terrible shirts.
The name would belong to other people’s mouths.
Akio had already gone through that.
Now Kai would too.
“Can I say no to this part?” Cross considered it.
“No.” I appreciated the honesty.
“If you’re deployed, we need a public identity attached to you.
Otherwise the search for your identity becomes the story, and that creates more risk for Akio Kita, not less.” I hated that she was right.
“So this is it.” “This is one moment.” “No.” I touched the paper.
“This is the first time the world meets him.” Cross went quiet.
Grant looked at me.
I expected one of them to say something comforting.
Neither did.
Good.
I didn’t want comfort.
I wanted to remember the feeling.
Because somewhere, buried beneath everything else, I knew this mattered.
I picked up the pen.
There was a signature line at the bottom.
Operational Identity Confirmation I almost laughed.
The first time I’d been given paperwork like this, I’d started writing an A.
This time my hand didn’t hesitate.
Kai Skyline.
I signed it.
Then stared at the name.
It still wasn’t all of me.
Maybe it never would be.
But it wasn’t nothing anymore.
Cross took the page.
“Transport leaves at eighteen hundred.” “Today?” “Ygros doesn’t care about your schedule.” “I hate him already.” Grant stood.
“Good.
Hate him from a safe distance.” I looked at him.
“You’re not coming.” It wasn’t a question.
“No.” That bothered me more than I expected.
“The aircraft crew is military.
Ground command will maintain remote contact.
I’m staying here.” “Why?” “Because if everything goes wrong, somebody needs to yell at Cross.” “I have people for that,” she said.
“Not as talented.” I smiled.
Then stopped.
Grant held out his hand.
I stared at it.
“What?” “Don’t make this weird.” “You made it weird.” “Shake my hand, idiot.” I did.
His grip tightened.
“Watch first.” “I know.” “Then think.” “I know.” “Then act.” “I know.” “And if the answer is run?” I looked at him.
“Run.” He released my hand.
“Good.” I started toward the door.
“Kai.” I turned.
Grant tossed something.
I caught it.
A small black notebook.
Mine.
The one with KAI SKYLINE written across the front.
I looked at him.
“Seriously?” “You forget things when you’re terrified.” “I do not.” “You absolutely do.” I opened it.
The first page remained.
THINGS I CAN’T DO YET, BUT WILL Core movement.
Fight without sword.
Protect someone while fighting.
Stamina.
Multiple opponents.
Fight injured.
Use terrain.
Stop chasing openings.
Know when not to attack.
Beat Ortiz.
Beat Grant eventually.
I looked up.
“You know I haven’t beaten you yet.” “Exactly.” He pointed at the list.
“So don’t die before finishing it.” I closed the notebook.
“That’s incredibly selfish.” “Motivation.” I put it in my pocket.
“Thanks.” Grant nodded.
That was all.
The sword waited in the armory.
My sword.
Not a relic.
Not an asset.
Not a government weapon.
Mine.
The black case was new.
Long enough for the blade.
Reinforced.
Unmarked.
Sato stood beside it.
She looked miserable.
“You’re angry.” “Yes.” “At me?” “Mostly Cross.” “Healthy.” “Some at you.” “Less healthy.” She opened the case.
Cold touched the room.
The sword lay inside.
Pale.
Translucent.
Blue-white lines faintly alive beneath the surface.
The same ice that had once surrounded my entire body.
Now shaped into something my hand understood better than any weapon I’d ever touched.
I reached toward it.
Stopped.
Sato noticed.
“What?” “Nothing.” “That’s never true when you say it.” I touched the grip.
The response was immediate.
Not dramatic.
No explosion.
No giant pulse.
Just recognition.
The blade brightened faintly.
My Core answered.
And somewhere beyond walls, cities, forests, and mountains… something answered back.
My breath caught.
Sato checked the monitor.
“Direction?” I closed my eyes.
There.
Distant.
Heavy.
Wrong.
Northwest.
“Same.” “Confidence?” “Don’t turn it into a number.” She sighed.
“Fine.” I opened my eyes.
“He’s there.” The words felt different this time.
Ygros.
Waiting in the mountains.
Maybe for me.
Maybe for the sword.
Maybe for something neither of us understood.
I released the grip.
The blade dimmed.
Sato closed the case.
“Don’t lose it.” I looked at her.
“That’s your advice?” “I had a better speech.” “What happened?” “I decided you wouldn’t listen.” “You’re learning.” She secured the locks.
Then looked at me seriously.
“Kai.” “Yeah?” “Don’t try to understand everything while you’re standing in front of it.” I frowned.
“That sounds like the opposite of what everyone trained me to do.” “No.
They trained you to observe.” She tapped the case.
“Observation doesn’t require satisfying your curiosity.” Fair.
“Come back confused.” I smiled slightly.
“That’s the plan.” At 17:42, I stepped onto the runway.
The sky had started turning orange near the horizon.
For a second, the color reminded me of the river.
Saturday.
I kept walking.
The transport aircraft waited ahead.
Dark.
Heavy.
Engines already running.
Military personnel moved around it.
Equipment loaded.
Fuel lines disconnected.
Checks completed.
Everything efficient.
Normal.
That helped.
Cross walked beside me.
Neither of us spoke until we reached the stairs.
Then she stopped.
I did too.
The sword case hung from my right hand.
Heavier than it looked.
Not because of weight.
Cross glanced at it.
Then at me.
“The broadcast begins after you’re airborne.” My stomach tightened.
“How long?” “Initial announcement first.
Your identity will be released closer to the exclusion zone.” “So I get a few hours before everyone knows I exist.” “Approximately.” “Nice.” Cross almost smiled.
Almost.
I looked toward the aircraft.
“Will they be watching?” She knew who I meant.
“Probably.” Benny.
Threya.
The others.
Mom.
My fingers tightened around the handle.
Cross noticed.
“You don’t have to think about them tonight.” “That’s not how thinking works.” “No.” A pause.
Then: “But you don’t have to perform for them.” I looked at her.
That was annoyingly good advice.
“Who said I was?” “You’re seventeen.” “That isn’t an answer.” “It usually is.” I looked away.
The engines grew louder.
A crew member waited at the top of the stairs.
Time.
I stepped forward.
Cross spoke behind me.
“Kai.” I turned.
She looked at me for a long moment.
Maybe she saw Akio.
Maybe Kai.
Maybe both.
“Come back.” No President voice.
No strategy.
Just Evelyn.
I nodded.
“I will.” I boarded.
The inside of the aircraft smelled like metal, fuel, and old fabric.
Soldiers lined the cargo bay.
Most looked at me.
Then at the case.
Then away.
Nobody asked questions.
Good.
I found a seat near the rear deployment door.
Secured the sword beside me.
Sat.
The engines changed pitch.
My heartbeat followed.
I flexed my fingers.
Once.
Twice.
They were shaking.
Barely.
I closed them.
Across the bay, a camera mounted near the ceiling pointed toward the deployment area.
A small red light was off.
For now.
I stared at it.
Soon.
Kai Skyline.
Seventeen.
Affiliation classified.
Hero rank unassigned.
That was all the world would get.
For almost my entire life, I’d hated being defined by someone else’s name.
Lutoro Kita’s son.
The powerless one.
The boy who didn’t awaken.
Then the youngest hero to kill a monster.
The frozen boy.
The one who saved nine future heroes.
A museum plaque.
A tragedy.
A memory.
Now I was about to give the world another name.
This time, at least, I’d signed it myself.
The aircraft started moving.
I looked toward the narrow window.
Runway lights passed.
Faster.
Faster.
Then disappeared beneath us.
My stomach dropped.
The ground fell away.
I watched the facility shrink until I couldn’t distinguish one building from another.
Somewhere down there was Grant.
Sato.
Cross.
Everything that had rebuilt me after the ice.
Ahead were mountains.
Ygros.
And the first decision Kai Skyline would make where the whole world could see him.
I rested my elbows on my knees.
The sword case sat beside me.
Cold touched the side of my boot.
Faint.
Almost nothing.
I looked down.
One thin line of frost had formed around the case’s edge.
Then stopped.
I didn’t need Sato’s monitor.
I knew.
Ygros was out there.
The plane turned northwest.
I leaned back and closed my eyes.
For a little while longer, nobody knew who was sitting on this aircraft.
For a little while longer, Kai Skyline belonged only to the handful of people who had built the lie.
Soon the name would be everywhere.
And nine people who once knew me better than anyone alive were going to hear it for the first time.
The thought hurt.
I let it.
Then I opened my eyes.
The camera’s red light came on.