Kali stirred with a groan, his breath shallow and ragged. Consciousness returned slowly, like a reluctant tide. His mind still clung to the fading remnants of a dream, soft and warm. His mother. She stood beneath the noonday sun, her skin a radiant ebony that shimmered with the light, like polished obsidian. Her smile was intoxicating, rows of white pearls that sparkled with every word, every laugh. She smelled of jasmine and ash, and when she held him, the world vanished.
But the dream twisted, as it always did.
The sun dimmed. Her warmth turned to fire. The smile vanished, replaced by blood, by the dry rasp of her last breath. Kali remembered the gunshot like it had gone off inside his skull. He was only eight. The next day, a rusted machete was thrust into his trembling hands, and he was herded into the back of a pickup truck, a conscripted ghost in the army of the man who had killed her. The warlord had laughed as he burned villages. And Kali had laughed too, because he was told to.
A single tear slid from the corner of his eye. Then the cold returned.
Metal pressed against his back, unyielding and biting through the fabric of his shirt. His hands were bound behind him with coarse rope, the knots tight, digging into his skin. He flexed his fingers gently, testing for blood flow. His head throbbed, pain pulsing from the temple, and there was the copper taste of dried blood in his mouth.
The men surrounding him didn't notice the change in his breathing. Or maybe they didn't care. Four of them, all clad in matte-black tactical armor, their faces hidden behind featureless helmets. But the emblem on their chests gave them away, the ouroboros helix of Synesthetic Specialties Corporation.
One of them adjusted a rifle slung casually across his chest. Another leaned against the wall, arms crossed, staring through what was left of a floor-to-ceiling window, cracked and soot-streaked.
Kali followed his gaze. They were high, twenty, maybe thirty stories up in what used to be a corporate high-rise. Beyond the shattered glass, the city of Medri sprawled in broken silence. Smoke curled into the sky in thick plumes, painting the clouds in shades of charcoal and rust. The streets below glinted with the reflections of emergency beacons and fires, whole city blocks reduced to rubble where the Jacob's Ladder had crashed. Towers had folded like paper, their skeletons exposed to the sky.
And there, at the heart of it all, a burning wound where the orbital tether had cleaved the city in two.
Kali swallowed hard. The war had followed him again. Just with different names. He straightened, as much as the rope would allow, and fixed his gaze on the man nearest to him.
"Are you going to talk?" Kali rasped, "or just stand there playing mannequin?"
"I'll do the talking," came a voice, cool, sharp, and unflinching. It echoed through the room like the crack of glass under pressure.
Then came the click, heels on scorched tile, rhythmic and deliberate.
Alenra Myr emerged from the haze of smoke and broken light like an apparition of power. Her white suit had once been pristine, designer-cut and regal, but now it bore dark smears, ash, soot, and maybe blood. None of it seemed to bother her. If anything, it added to her presence. Her platinum hair was drawn back into a tight braid, and the contrast against the grime of her clothes made her look like a swan walking through a battlefield.
Kali looked up at her from the chair, still bound. He tried to read her, something in her eyes, a tell, a weakness but she offered him nothing.
She dragged a chair from the corner with a metallic screech that set his teeth on edge. Without ceremony, she placed it in front of him and sat down, legs crossed, back straight.
"What do you want?" he asked at last, voice rough but steady.
Alenra smiled, not kindly. "That's what I like to hear," she said, reaching into her coat to pull out a slim silver datapad, then ignoring it entirely. "I want you to kill the governor."
Kali blinked. His breath caught for a moment, then resumed. "Why me?"
"Simple," she said, voice as casual as if she were discussing a business merger. "You're already a wanted member of Willow Teeth. You've got the stench of treason and terrorism baked into your name. If the governor dies by your hand, the death is conveniently distanced from SynSpec, and the Septate Alliance has no reason to challenge us."
She leaned in slightly, her tone darkening just enough. "Besides, I think you'd enjoy it. The governor was behind Willow Teeth. Behind your outpost's purge. Behind all of this." She gestured vaguely toward the ruined skyline visible beyond the fractured glass. Medri in flames. The bones of a city exposed.
Kali's lips parted slightly, but the question that had been bothering him since he woke finally spilled out. "But... his daughter. She was on the ladder."
It hadn't made sense. Everything else aligned. Darius likely pulled the trigger, but the orders? Those came from the governor. Why would he risk her life?
Alenra paused. Even that tiny moment of hesitation told Kali something. It was rare for a woman like her to admit surprise.
"I'll admit," she said finally, lifting one shoulder in a slow shrug, "that part caught me off guard. Maybe he didn't expect the tether to fall. Maybe he did."
Her voice dropped a note colder.
"The man is more ruthless than I thought. And this plan... it's brilliant. He creates a catastrophe, sacrifices a few, even blood of his blood and in the confusion, absolves himself. The attack looks like it came from within Willow Teeth. The media, what's left of it, is already turning that narrative. Public rage is shifting."
She tapped a finger on her knee, almost idly.
"SynSpec? We're the new villains. Sponsors of rebellion. Sympathizers to your cause."
"What do I get in return?" Kali asked, voice low as he leaned forward against his restraints, blood drying at the edge of his mouth.
Alenra scoffed, tossing her braid over her shoulder with a flick. "Vengeance," she said flatly, then tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "And your life, which, last I checked, is in my hands."
Kali chuckled dryly, the sound cracked and bitter. "You're asking me to assassinate the most protected man in the city," he said, his grin cutting across his face like a scar. "And you want me to take the fall. Become the monster in everyone's headlines." He leaned back again, shoulders pressed against cold metal. "Now, I've been called a narcissist a few times... but I'm not delusional. My life ain't worth that much."
Alenra didn't argue. Instead, she extended her hand toward one of the black-armored SynSpec operatives behind her. The man stepped forward silently, like a shadow with weight, and placed a sleek matte-black handgun into her palm.
Without hesitation, she leveled it between Kali's eyes. "Take the offer," she said.
The barrel was so close he could see the concentric grooves within. The room quieted, the distant fires outside casting flickering orange lines through the broken windowpanes. Kali spat to the floor, blood and saliva. He stared up at her, defiant, his expression hard as granite.
She held the gaze for a moment longer, then, unexpectedly sighed. A smile, faint and strange, curled the edge of her lips. She lowered the gun and set it on the floor beside her chair with a deliberate clink.
"All right," she said. "What do you want then?"
He didn't need to think. His reply was immediate. "Passage off-world. New papers. And a light freighter. Something with jump capacity. I don't need luxury. Just a clean exit."
Alenra considered it for a second, then nodded. "I can get you synthetic papers. Fully embedded, layered deep enough for customs to choke on. And a personal shuttle, two to four passengers max, nothing military, but fast."
A voice buzzed in his head then. "Take the offer," Rizen murmured from his neural grafts. "You don't have time to grow picky, Kali."
Kali nodded slowly. "That'll work."
Alenra smiled, this time with something closer to approval. "Good," she said, standing. "Then we have a deal."
"How do I know you'll keep your word?" Kali asked, his voice steady despite the dull ache in his shoulders. Two of the SynSpec enforcers moved in, cutting the ropes that bound him to the chair. The fibers scraped as they unwound, leaving burning impressions on his skin.
Alenra didn't flinch. "I will," she said simply, brushing dust from her sleeve as if they were discussing a business merger. "The last thing I need is an angry Awakened hunting me across systems."
Kali studied her expression for any sign of deceit, but her calm was unshaken. He gave a slow nod, then rolled his wrists, flexing circulation back into his hands. "I need to know about the Deus relic," he said. "If the governor has it, he might use it. I want to be prepared."
Alenra laughed, not mockingly, but with a tired kind of amusement. "There was never a Deus relic," she said, shaking her head. "That was a lie. A good one, too. Deus-class artifacts draw more attention than either of us could afford. You think I'd be sitting in this city, talking to you, if I had one? I'd have gods sniffing at my door."
She leaned against the cracked window frame, the burning skyline behind her. "What your outpost was moving," she continued, "was a crystallized form of exotic matter. Refined. Stable. Meant for an off-world client with deep enough pockets to keep it quiet. The heist and the elevator strike were both orchestrated by the governor to sabotage my credibility."
Kali narrowed his eyes. "So if I kill him, doesn't that just validate the narrative? You'll be even more of a scapegoat."
Alenra turned toward him, her voice level, smooth as poured oil. "Narratives can be rewritten. Doesn't matter what the public thinks. Not anymore. When he's gone, I'll have the leverage I need to influence the selection of his successor. I won't need to justify anything, just install someone friendly enough to bury the story."
She walked closer, gaze sharp. "The governor's holed up in a classified bunker, south end of the city, old metro station converted into a secure redoubt. Sub-levels, private security, and walls thick enough to survive orbital fire. How you choose to breach that problem is... entirely up to you."
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, calculating, but not unkind. Then she turned on her heel. Her guards fell in behind her, footsteps echoing like clockwork through the crumbling structure.
Kali was left standing alone, fingers tingling, blood returning to his limbs. The smell of smoke drifted in through the shattered windows. Below, the ruins of Medri smoldered like a dying star.
And somewhere beneath all that ash, his next target was waiting.