The Iron Citadel did not have heating.
It was carved into the granite of the Northern Mountains. The rock held the cold of the glacier like a memory.
Commander Solara Vestris sat at her desk.
She wore her gray dress uniform. The collar was stiff. It dug into her neck. She did not adjust it. Discomfort kept her awake.
On the screen in front of her, the report from the Iron Artery scrolled by.
Incident Report: Train 47-North.
Location: Sector 4 (Redcliff Bypass).
Event: Scout elimination.
Asset: 7-2 (Lieutenant Vance).
Method: Single shot. Range 1200 meters. High crosswinds.
Solara read the report three times.
She had enhanced pattern recognition. It was a gift from a childhood she wasn't supposed to remember. She saw the math in the shot.
It was impossible.
Standard rail-drivers had an effective range of 1500 meters, but not from a moving platform vibrating at 400 kilometers per hour.
Kael had not used skill. He had used foresight.
He had seen the bullet hit before he pulled the trigger.
Solara closed the file. She rubbed the back of her neck, right at the base of her skull.
"You are reckless, Kael," she whispered to the empty room.
She touched the screen. She opened a different file. This one was encrypted.
Subject: Asset 7-2.
Status: Active.
Notes: Gen-12 instability increasing. Hive resonance detected in squad members.
Solara hesitated. Her finger hovered over the "Terminate" button.
As a General of Northgate, her duty was clear. A weapon that thinks for itself is a malfunction. Malfunctions are scrapped.
But Kael was not just a weapon. He was the only thing in this frozen city that gave her hope.
She closed the encrypted file without saving changes.
"I can protect you from Hark," she had told him.
She wondered if she could protect him from herself.
A red light flashed on her desk. A buzzer sounded. It was the direct line from the High Marshall.
"Commander Vestris," a voice boomed from the speaker. "Report to the War Room immediately."
"On my way, Marshall," Solara said.
She stood up. She smoothed her uniform. She composed her face into a mask of perfect Pure obedience.
In Northgate, facial expressions were data. And she could not afford to leak data.
The War Room was in the deepest part of the Citadel.
It was a circular chamber with walls of reinforced steel. In the center was a massive table displaying a holographic map of the Ennead. The map glowed blue in the dark room. It showed the continent. The nine cities were bright points of light. The train lines were pulsing arteries connecting them.
High Marshall Kaelen stood by the map.
He was a large man. He wore the black armor of the Iron Guard, even though he had not seen combat in ten years. His face was scarred, a badge of honor from his time as a field commander.
He was eating an apple.
A real apple.
It was fresh, likely from a Valen shipment that arrived that morning. In the barracks, soldiers ate nutrient paste. In the Citadel, the High Marshall ate fruit that cost more than a soldier's life.
"Commander," Kaelen said. He took a bite of the apple. The crunch was loud in the silent room. "You saw the report from the Western Veil."
"I did, sir," Solara said. She stood at attention.
"Your Asset. Vance." Kaelen chewed thoughtfully. "He made a shot that my ballistics experts say is statistically impossible."
"He is Gen-12, sir," Solara said. "They have enhanced reflexes."
"Reflexes are biological," Kaelen said. "This was... something else."
He waved his hand over the map. The hologram zoomed in on the Western Veil. The jagged red lines of the Sundered Spine territory appeared.
"The Discordi are organizing," Kaelen said. "Varok's clan has derailed seventeen trains this year. They are getting smarter. And now they are using mirrors to signal."
"We neutralized the scout, Marshall."
"We neutralized one scout," Kaelen corrected. He tossed the apple core onto the table. "Hark tells me Vance hesitated. Again."
Solara felt a spike of cold in her stomach. Hark was bypassing the chain of command.
"Lieutenant Hark is zealous," Solara said calmly. "He mistakes calculation for hesitation. Vance saved the cargo. That is the only metric that matters."
"The cargo," Kaelen repeated.
He looked at Solara. His eyes were dark beads in the blue light.
"Do you know what is in Car 4, Commander?"
"High-value transport," Solara said. "Details classified."
It was a lie. She knew. She had signed the transfer order.
Fifty children. Destination: Fenricia.
"It is the future," Kaelen said. "Fifty specimens. The Vial Masters tell me Gen-13 is ready for field testing. They just need the raw material."
He leaned over the map.
"We are losing the numbers game, Solara. Our Pure birth rates are down 4% this year. Contamination is seeping into the aquifers. Meanwhile, the Discordi breed like rats in the waste. They are four to one against us."
Solara said nothing. She knew the Discordi didn't just breed. They survived. They evolved.
"We need better Veiled," Kaelen said. "Stronger. More obedient. Gen-13 will give us that. But only if the raw material arrives intact."
He tapped the location of the train on the map. It was just past Redcliff.
"I received a message from Selvara," Kaelen said. "The Sky-Lords are nervous. They have heavy bets on the stability of the Western Line. They want assurances."
"Squad 7-2 is the best I have," Solara said. "They will deliver the cargo."
"They better," Kaelen said. "Because if they fail, Solara, I can't protect you from the audit."
Solara stiffened.
"Audit, sir?"
"The Dieticians in Valen are raising food prices," Kaelen said. "They say we aren't protecting the shipments well enough. If we lose another train, they cut our rations by 20%."
The economic chain. If Northgate failed to protect the trains, Valen would starve them. And if Northgate starved, the army would riot.
"I understand," Solara said.
"Good." Kaelen turned away. "One more thing."
Solara waited.
"Increase the Selection Lottery quotas from Cindral," Kaelen said. "We need to replace the losses from the recent ambushes."
Solara's hands clenched behind her back. She had fought to keep the quota at 2,000 per month.
"Sir," Solara said. "The population in Cindral is barely sustaining itself. If we take more, the labor force for waste processing will collapse. The garbage will pile up. The contamination will spread."
"Then let it spread," Kaelen said. "Cindral is a dump. The people there are fuel. Burn them."
The moral math.
Save the Cindral workers, and the army runs out of soldiers. The Discordi overrun the walls. Northgate falls.
Sacrifice the Cindral workers, and the city survives another year.
"How many?" Solara asked. Her voice was flat.
"Three thousand a month," Kaelen said. "Effective immediately."
Three thousand children.
Solara felt the weight of every single one of them pressing on her chest.
"I will issue the order," Solara said.
"Dismissed."
Solara walked out of the War Room. Her boots clicked on the steel floor. She did not run. She did not scream.
She was a general. Generals do not scream.
Solara returned to her office.
The window looked out over the city. Northgate was a grid of gray concrete and steel. The snow covered everything.
She looked at the lights of the lower city.
There were families down there. Pure families. They were eating dinner. They were sleeping safe in their beds because she stood on the wall.
And because she sent 3,000 children to the knife every month.
She walked to the small safe built into the wall of her office. She scanned her palm. Then her retina. Then she typed a code that existed only in her memory.
The safe hissed open.
Inside, there was a single, small book. It was paper. Real paper. Bound in leather.
Personal diaries were illegal. Possession of unapproved history was treason.
Solara took the book out. She opened it to the first page.
Subject: Project Gen-7.
Date: Year 280.
Status: Liquidated.
She ran her finger over the words.
She didn't remember writing them. She didn't remember the purge. But she knew, deep in the gap where her childhood should be, that she had been there.
She was Gen-7.
She was the enemy she hunted.
She turned the page.
There was a photo tucked inside. It was blurry. Taken from a security camera twelve years ago.
It showed a woman holding a bundle of rags. The woman was Solara. Younger. Desperate.
The bundle was a baby. Her sister's baby.
The baby had been deformed. A class-1 mutation. By law, Solara should have executed the child and her sister.
Instead, she had given the child to a Discordi smuggler. She saved a life she could not see.
She closed the book. She put it back in the safe.
She sat at her desk and opened the command terminal. She typed the order.
To: Cindral Garrison Command.
From: General Vestris.
Subject: Quota Adjustment.
Order: Increase monthly Selection Lottery target to 3,000. Priority on age group 14-16.
She stared at the words.
She was a child-stealer.
She pressed send.
If I were them, she thought, I would hate me.
Suddenly, her terminal flickered. The screen went black.
Then, green text appeared.
CONNECTION SECURE.
SOURCE: HARROWIN ARCHIVE.
Solara sat up straight. This was not a standard message.
Alia, Solara thought.
The text scrolled.
SOLARA.
THE ENGINE IS WATCHING.
IT SAW THE REPORT FROM TRAIN 47.
IT SAW THE MATH.
IT KNOWS VANCE IS GEN-12.
IT IS ADJUSTING THE PROBABILITY CURVES.
THE TRAIN WILL NOT REACH FENRICIA.
PROTECT THE CARGO.
PROTECT HIM.
The screen flickered again. The message vanished. The standard Northgate logo reappeared.
Solara's heart hammered against her ribs.
The Revision Engine. Alia had warned her. The machine was thinking.
The train will not reach Fenricia.
Solara stood up. She paced the room.
If the Engine was interfering, it meant the train was walking into a trap. The Engine manipulated events to maintain stability. If Kael Vance was a threat to stability, the Engine would remove him.
How?
The Engine couldn't derail a train. It was just data.
But it could send data. It could change a schedule. It could open a gate. It could signal the Discordi.
Solara went to the comms unit. She keyed in the frequency for Train 47.
"Command to Train 47," she said. "Come in, Squad 7-2."
Static.
The Aether-Fall interference was heavy in the Western Veil.
"Train 47, this is Vestris. Respond."
Nothing but the hiss of white noise.
Solara looked at the map on her wall. The train was entering the Western Loop. The territory of the Sundered Spine.
Grihm's territory.
If the Engine had leaked the train's schedule to the Sundered Spine...
Fifty children. Ten crew. One squad. Versus four thousand Discordi warriors.
Solara grabbed her coat.
She couldn't stop the train. She couldn't warn Kael. But she could prepare the response.
She walked out of her office. She headed for the hangars.
She was going to break the rules.
Generals did not leave the Citadel.
But Solara was not just a General. She was a traitor. And tonight, she would have to act like one.
SECTOR 4: THE WESTERN VEIL
The train screamed through the dark.
The air outside was a blur of toxic dust and snow.
Inside the antechamber of Car 4, Kael sat with his sword across his knees. The vibration of the floor was soothing. It numbed his legs.
He looked at Lyss.
She was asleep on the bench opposite him. Even in sleep, she looked dangerous. Her hand rested near her holster. Her helmet lay on the floor. Her red hair was a splash of color in the gray room.
Tav was monitoring the comms.
"Still nothing from Northgate," Tav said. "Interference is off the scale."
"We're in the deep canyon," Kael said. "The iron in the rock walls blocks the signal."
"It feels wrong," Morse said from the window. "The static. It's not just the rock. It's... rhythmic."
Kael closed his eyes.
He listened to the buzz in the back of his head. The hive mind leak. He could feel his squad.
Tav was hungry.
Lin was sharpening her knife, feeling the friction of the stone.
Morse was afraid.
But there was something else. Faint. Like a radio station playing in the next room.
Brother, the voice sang.
Kael opened his eyes.
Saria. The ghost sister.
Brother, the track is broken.
Kael stood up.
"Tav, check the forward sensors. Track integrity."
Tav looked at the console. "Sensors are green, Cap. Track is clear for fifty kilometers."
They hid the break, the voice sang. With mirrors and heat.
"Manual check," Kael ordered. "Morse, get on the roof."
"On the roof?" Morse looked at him. "At 400 klicks? The wind will peel me off."
"Mag-boots," Kael said. "Do it. Now."
Morse didn't argue. He grabbed his rifle and helmet. He cycled the airlock to the roof ladder. The hatch hissed. The roar of the wind filled the small room.
Morse climbed out. The hatch closed.
Kael looked at Lyss.
She was awake. Her green eyes were open, watching him.
"You heard something," she said.
"I have a feeling," Kael said.
"Your feelings bleed," Lyss said. She sat up. "What is it?"
"The track," Kael said. "We need to slow down."
"If we slow down, we lose momentum," Lyss said. "If there's an ambush, we're sitting ducks."
"If the track is out, we're dead ducks," Kael countered.
The comms crackled.
"Cap!" Morse's voice was screaming over the wind. "Visual confirmation! The sensors are looped! The track is gone!"
"Where?" Kael shouted.
"Two klicks! It's a gap! The bridge is out!"
Two kilometers. At 400 km/h, that was eighteen seconds.
"Emergency brake!" Kael yelled.
Tav hit the red button on the wall.
The train slammed.
It wasn't a gradual stop. It was a collision with physics.
The inertial dampeners whined, trying to compensate. Kael was thrown against the wall. Lyss hit the floor. In the cargo hold, the cages rattled violently. The children screamed.
Sparks flew from the ceiling. The wheels shrieked against the rails. The sound was deafening.
"Brace!" Kael shouted.
The train skidded.
Ten seconds.
Five seconds.
The vibration changed.
It went from the smooth hum of rails to the rough grinding of gravel.
They had derailed.
The car tilted. Gravity shifted. Kael grabbed the door handle.
The world spun.
Car 4 slammed into the canyon wall. Metal tore. Glass shattered.
Then, silence.
Kael opened his eyes.
The emergency lights were flashing red. The car was on its side. He was hanging from the door handle. His arm felt like it was pulled out of the socket.
"Sound off!" he rasped.
"Here," Tav groaned from a pile of crates.
"Alive," Lin said. She was upside down, holding onto a support beam.
Kael looked for Lyss.
She was standing or rather, crouching on the wall which was now the floor. A sphere of plasma hovered in her hand, lighting the room.
"The doctor?" Kael asked.
Lyss pointed.
Dr. Aris was unconscious, dangling from his cuffs which were attached to the bench.
"And the cargo?" Kael asked.
He looked at the sealed door to the hold. It was dented. Buckled. He felt the sorrow again. It was a wave of panic now.
"Help us!" a small voice cried from behind the door.
Kael dropped to the floor.
"Tav, help me with the door."
Tav limped over. Together, they pulled. The metal screeched. The door slid open half a meter.
Kael looked inside.
The cages had broken loose from their mounts. They were a jumbled pile of steel and wire. But they were intact. The heavy frames had protected the children.
"We have to get them out," Kael said. "The engine could explode."
"We have a bigger problem," Morse's voice came over the comms.
"Morse?" Kael tapped his ear. "Where are you?"
"I was thrown clear," Morse said. "I'm on the ridge. Cap, you need to see this."
"See what?"
"The welcome party."
Kael climbed out through the broken viewport. He stood on the side of the wrecked train.
The cold hit him instantly. The air tasted of rust and sulfur.
He looked down into the canyon.
The train had crashed on a narrow ledge. Below them, the ravine dropped fifty meters into darkness. Above them, on the canyon walls, torches were being lit.
Hundreds of them.
Thousands.
The light reflected off metal armor and scrap-weapons.
The Sundered Spine clan.
They weren't just a raiding party. It was an army.
And standing on a rock outcropping, looking down at the wreck, was a figure Kael recognized from the intelligence files.
Massive. Four arms. Covered in bone plates.
Grihm.
The giant raised a massive hand. The torches lowered. Silence filled the canyon.
Then, Grihm spoke.
His voice was deep, amplified by the canyon walls. It wasn't a war cry.
"We have come for our children," Grihm said. "Surrender the cargo, and you will live. Resist, and the canyon will be your grave."
Kael looked at his sword. He looked at the wreck behind him. Fifty children. He looked at Lyss, who had climbed out beside him. Her plasma was flaring bright.
The math was bad.
Squad 7-2 plus Lyss Corvo. Versus four thousand Discordi.
"What's the play, Cap?" Tav asked, climbing out with his rotary cannon.
Kael looked at Grihm. His power spiked. The headache blinded him for a second.
Future 1:
They fight. Tav runs out of ammo in 30 seconds. Lyss kills 50 Discordi before she passes out. The Discordi swarm the train. Everyone dies. The children are taken.
Future 2:
They surrender. Grihm takes the children. He executes the Veiled soldiers as traitors. Kael dies on his knees.
Future 3:
Kael challenges Grihm to single combat. Grihm accepts. Grihm breaks Kael's spine. The squad dies anyway.
Future 4?
Kael searched the timelines. Sweat froze on his forehead. The pain was a drill in his temple.
He saw it.
Faint. Improbable. But there.
Future 4:
Negotiate. Offer something Grihm wants more than revenge.
Kael snapped back to the present.
"Hold fire," Kael ordered.
"Are you crazy?" Lyss hissed. "They'll slaughter us."
"Trust me," Kael said.
He stepped forward to the edge of the wreck. He sheathed his sword. The click echoed in the canyon. He raised his empty hands.
"I am Lieutenant Kael Vance of Northgate!" he shouted.
Grihm looked down. His yellow eyes glowed.
"I know you, boy. You are the one who hesitates."
"I have the cargo," Kael shouted. "Fifty children. Alive. Unharmed."
"Then give them to me," Grihm rumbled.
"I will," Kael said.
Behind him, Lyss gasped. "Vance, that is treason."
"I will give them to you," Kael continued, "If you let my squad walk away. And..."
He paused. He looked at the doctor still inside the wreck. He thought about the serum. The invisible soldiers.
"And," Kael shouted, "I will give you the cure."
Grihm tilted his massive head. "Cure?"
"We have a scientist," Kael said. "He has a serum. It stops the need for surgery. It hides the markers. It makes your people... safe."
A murmur went through the Discordi ranks. Safe. They were strong. They were fast. But they were never safe.
"Bring the scientist," Grihm said.
Kael turned to Lyss. "Get Aris."
Lyss stared at him. Her plasma turned from gold to angry red.
"You are defecting," she said. "You are giving them the asset."
"I am saving our lives," Kael whispered. "Do the math, Lyss. We can't win this."
"I don't care about winning," Lyss said. "I care about duty."
She raised her hand. Not at the Discordi. At Kael.
"Step away from the edge, Vance," she said. "Or I will burn you where you stand."
The asymmetry of the squad. They were not a team. They were enemies forced to work together.
Kael looked at the plasma. He felt the heat on his face. Then he looked at Tav.
Tav, he thought. Now.
Tav didn't hesitate.
He swung the barrel of his rotary cannon. Not at the Discordi. At Lyss.
"Stand down, Fenricia," Tav growled.
Lyss looked at Tav. Then at Lin, who had her knives drawn. Then at Morse on the ridge, his rifle trained on her.
The squad had chosen.
Lyss lowered her hand. The plasma faded. Her eyes were cold.
"You're dead, Vance," she said. "If the Discordi don't kill you, Solara will."
"Get the doctor," Kael said.
He turned back to Grihm.
"We are coming out!" Kael shouted.
He walked back into the wreck. He went to the cargo door. He pulled it open fully.
The girl with the scales was standing there. She held the baby. She looked at Kael. She didn't shrink back this time.
"Come," Kael said gently. "You're going home."
He lifted her out of the wreckage. He set her down on the red rock.
He had saved them.
He had betrayed his city. He had betrayed his commander.
He was a traitor.
But as the girl walked toward the massive shape of Grihm, Kael felt the headache fade. For the first time in days, the static in his head was quiet.
The singing woman was silent.
She was listening.