Smoke still hung thick over Meridian, coiling into the pale sky like a second storm refusing to die. The sea carried fragments of metal and glass, each one reflecting what little sunlight dared to break through the clouds. Cain stood at the edge of the ruined platform, silent, his coat torn and streaked with soot.
Behind him, Roselle coughed through her respirator and wiped blood from her cheek. "We can't hold this place," she said. "It's already sinking."
Steve's voice came through the comms, distorted by static. "I've got data from the relay cores before they blew. You'll want to see this."
"Upload it," Cain said without turning.
Hunter kicked aside the charred remnants of a drone, the black circle insignia still faintly visible on its shell. "Same symbol. Same hardware. Whoever's rebuilding this network has access to Daelmont's archives. That means money, engineers, supply routes—all of it."
