“I can save the universe from vengeance, but who will save me from myself?” - Anthony T. Hincks

  * * * *

  The stars hung suspended like distant lanterns above Ashenridge, the smoke curling from the central bonfire glowing orange against the sky. The wind whispered softly through the refurbished cabins and makeshift tents, carrying with it the mingling scents of firewood, earth, and the faintest trace of wild herbs carried in from the surrounding forest.

  This night, more than any other, felt suspended in time—a breath held collectively by a broken nation on the verge of burning.

  Ashenridge was alive with a low, uncertain hum. Laughter that came too quickly, eyes that darted too often toward the darkened horizon, and smiles that trembled at their edges.

  Music played from a salvaged radio connected to Allen’s cobbled-together battery pack, low and almost mournful. In the flickering glow of the bonfire, faces—worn, bruised, but resolute, danced in and out of the shadows.

  Former agents, fugitives, and even freedom fighters. Children of war and children born into silence. Gifted and non-Gifted. Allies bound not by politics or blood, but by pain, and purpose.

  They all knew.

  Tomorrow was not promised.

  Not a single one of them was under the delusion that the battle waiting for them in Blackpool would end cleanly.

  The hunters had gone too far this time, too fast, and too ruthless. With the fall of the ESA headquarters, the massacre of the Council, and the systematic silencing of every political voice that dared oppose Nicolosi’s doctrine, there was nothing left now but resistance.

  What remained of the underground—Blaze, Aegis, the Abyss, and the surviving former agents of the ESA, had become the last line, the only line, between annihilation and something that resembled hope.

  From her position seated beside Zest and Raul, Sera watched the firelight play against the faces of those who remained. Laura sat not far, flanked by Leonid and Taylor, the three speaking in hushed tones. Misha and Louis were laughing about something, though even from a distance, Sera could see the strain around their mouths. Allen had pulled Jonan’s guitar from storage earlier, and though the instrument lay untouched by the fire, Jonan himself was nowhere to be seen.

  Neither was Lucie. Nor Kailey.

  Sera’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  She swept her gaze again—more thorough this time, scanning the gathered crowd for the familiar burn of crimson hair, the gentle lavender hue of Kailey’s jacket, the determined set of Lucie’s shoulders.

  Nothing.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  A knot began to form in her chest, sharp and cold.

  “Has anyone seen Lucie?” Sera asked, her voice just loud enough to carry above the lull in conversation. “And Kailey? As well as Jonan?”

  Conversations stuttered into awkward silence. Blinking faces turned toward her.

  There were shrugs, and even the faint ripple of confusion.

  “Now that you mentioned it…” Elijah murmured, frowning. His cat-like pupils narrowed thoughtfully as he scanned the firelight.

  “I think I saw them heading that way earlier,” A small voice offered.

  It came from one of the younger children—Samiel, barely twelve, his face freckled and innocent in the fire’s glow. He pointed with a stick-like finger toward the far end of the village, beyond the watchtowers and the perimeter lights, where a low hill crested in silhouette beneath the star-scattered sky.

  At the peak stood a lone, great willow tree, its long tendrils swaying like mourning veils in the wind.

  The same place Rex had taken Sera the first time she had come to Ashenridge, months ago now, when she’d still believed she could fight this war with rules, with compromise. Before Blue Pandora. Before Nicolosi's madness had consumed the country.

  Sera’s gaze followed the child’s finger and met the distant silhouette of the willow tree. A sudden chill crawled down her spine.

  She rose to her feet.

  Zest straightened beside her almost immediately, his red eyes narrowing. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I hope not,” she muttered. “But I can’t ignore it either.”

  “Sera, is something wrong?” Laura’s voice rose, concerned.

  Sera hesitated. She looked back at the group gathered around the bonfire. They looked so fragile in that moment, all of them bathed in golden firelight, so desperately pretending to be normal, if only for tonight.

  “No,” Sera said softly. “But… Laura, you and Raul should come with me.”

  There was a pause.

  “The rest of you,” Sera continued, casting a glance toward Lucas, then Misha, then the rest of the former ESA and Aegis agents. “You should stay. Enjoy whatever peace we have before tomorrow.”

  Her words weren’t lost on them.

  It wasn’t just a walk to find missing people. It was a reckoning.

  Bewildered glances flickered between those seated, but none rose to follow. Raul and Laura exchanged a look, then stood without question. Rex, leaning against a support post nearby with his arms crossed, watched them go with an unreadable expression. But the look in his eyes—quiet, tired, and burdened, told her he likely knew more than he was letting on.

  They walked in silence across the sloped terrain of Ashenridge, their boots crunching lightly over the gravel and hardened soil. The sounds of the bonfire faded behind them until only the wind remained—low and whispering, curling around the trees like ghostly fingers.

  “Sera,” Laura tried again, her tone quieter now. “What’s going on?”

  Still, Sera said nothing.

  Her expression was unreadable, but in her mind, thoughts tumbled like a landslide of glass and guilt.

  Jonan had never spoken about what happened to Lucie’s father.

  Not once.

  Not when the ESA agents amongst their midst had first defected and came to Ashenridge. But Sera had always known—something in Jonan’s silence, the way he refused to meet Lucie’s gaze when she brought up her past, and the way he always stepped away first when she reached for him.

  Kailey—gentle, patient Kailey, had always sensed things others didn’t. She had a healer’s instincts, yes, but more than that, she was perceptive in the quietest, most dangerous ways.

  And now, all three of them were gone.

  Alone.

  Up by the willow tree where memories lingered like ghosts.

  If Jonan really had been the one who killed Lucie’s father—whether under orders, in desperation, or by some accident, and if Kailey knew, if Lucie knew…

  The consequences could fracture more than just the girl’s fragile peace of mind.

  It could shatter the group from the inside. Especially now, when unity was their only weapon.

  Sera’s fists clenched slightly at her sides.

  They couldn’t afford to break.

  Not now.

  Raul’s voice came softly beside her, though his golden eyes were sharp. “You think it’s about what happened in Agnis. About Lucie’s father.”

  Sera didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

  Zest, walking just ahead, didn’t look back. But his voice cut through the air like the wind off a blade. “If it is… Then we better hope Kailey is still able to stop them.”

  Laura stopped walking for half a second. Her breath caught. “You don’t think…Lucie would hurt Jonan?”

  The silence was heavy.

  Sera closed her eyes for a brief moment, her heart pounding against her ribs.

  She remembered the look in Lucie’s eyes when she spoke of her father—quiet sorrow and fierce devotion, but always that undercurrent of not knowing. The questions left unanswered had festered in her like a slow poison.

  And now… Now, on the eve of battle, with death pressing down from all sides…

  Sera opened her eyes.

  The wind picked up again, and ahead, the silhouette of the willow swayed against the stars.

  “We’ll know soon enough,” she whispered. “But whatever happens… We can’t afford to fracture.”

  Behind her, Ashenridge still glowed with firelight.

  But ahead, the darkness deepened.

  And beneath the roots of memory, something had begun to stir.

  Something that could not be unlearned once the truth came to light.