The Ninth still smoldered when dawn broke. Ash drifted like pale snow across the rooftops, settling in gutters and hair, clinging to the wet fabric of coats. The substation stood silent, its iron heart gutted, but the echoes of what had almost happened lingered in the air. Every tenement window had seen the fog start to rise, had tasted fear in their mouths before the vents choked silent. And every window had seen Aria Vex standing in the yard, blade raised, defiance clear as fire.
By the time she and her pack returned to the depot, the city was already rewriting itself. Messages pulsed across Kellen’s screens—some praising, some condemning, all of them carrying her name. Not Nova. Aria. That small shift felt bigger than an explosion.
But the reprieve was thin.
“They’re calling us terro
