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"Drop!"
The first shot hit the wall beside Nia's head. Concrete dust slapped her teeth. She dropped behind a dead vending machine, burned palm pressed to her chest.
"Nia! Left tunnel!" Tavi's voice crackled through her wristband. "Move now!"
"My ankle's wrecked."
"Then limp faster."
Another round punched through the machine. A cold coffee can burst beside her ear, spraying bitter foam across her cheek.
Nia wiped it off. Her fingers shook. The mark in her palm didn't.
The Crownstack sigil glowed under her skin—six sharp lines circling the black-red ember buried in the center. Every pulse sent heat up her arm, straight into her shoulder wound.
Armored boots hammered across the platform outside.
"Calder!" a woman yelled. "Drop to your knees! Show us your hands!"
Nia looked at the hand they wanted.
Right. Funny.
The hand holding the government's forbidden fire.
"Tavi," she whispered. "Where's the tunnel?"
"Three meters behind you. Maintenance grate."
"I don't see it."
"Feel for the yellow bolts."
"I have a bullet team shooting at me. Better clue, maybe?"
"Yellow bolts, Nia."
A boot scraped closer.
She shoved herself up. Pain cracked through her left ankle, bright and nasty. Her shoulder nearly gave out, but she caught the vending machine edge and threw herself toward the wall.
Her fingers found metal. Two yellow bolts. She yanked.
The grate came loose.
Three rounds tore through the machine behind her.
Nia dove through the gap. Her ribs hit the floor hard enough to knock the breath out. She dragged the grate after her, kicked it shut with her good foot.
The soldiers reached the machine a second later.
"She went into maintenance!"
"Seal the lower lines!"
Nia crawled through black water and old cable dust. The tunnel smelled like rust, mold, and the sharp burnt stink coming off her palm.
"You alive?" Tavi asked.
"Define alive."
"Breathing, preferably."
"Then yes. Annoyingly."
"Good. Keep going till the red pipe splits. Take the lower branch."
She pulled herself forward. Her left ankle dragged behind her like it belonged to somebody else. Each movement made her shoulder rub the tunnel wall. Her jacket was wet with blood. She couldn't tell how much was hers.
Behind her, the grate rattled.
They were opening it.
"Tavi."
"I know."
"You said they couldn't follow."
"I said they wouldn't follow quickly. Different promises."
Nia reached the red pipe and shoved herself down the lower branch. The passage dropped steeply. She slid through filthy water, landed in a drainage basin with a hard splash.
For half a second, she just lay there.
Then the fire in her palm whispered.
*Kellan.*
Not a sound this time. A feeling shaped like his voice.
*Run, Nia.*
Her eyes snapped open.
"I know," she muttered. "I'm running."
"Talking to me?" Tavi asked.
"No."
"Great. Love that answer."
She pushed herself up. A narrow service door waited on the other side of the basin. Tavi had already cracked its lock. The little green light blinked through the dark.
Nia limped to it, pressed her wristband against the panel.
The door opened into an abandoned market under District Nine.
Not abandoned enough.
A dozen people crouched behind plastic tarps and broken stalls, watching her crawl out of the drain. Nobody spoke. Nobody needed to. The black sigil shining through her palm painted every face in the same ugly red light.
A child pointed.
His mother slapped his hand down.
"Don't look," she whispered.
Nia wanted to laugh. It came out as a rough breath instead.
"Where's the terminal?" she asked.
The market's old broker stepped from behind a counter. Thin man, silver plugs in both ears, a coat stitched together from security uniforms.
"You brought soldiers," he said.
"They followed me."
"Same problem."
"I need a terminal."
He glanced at the mark in her palm. His face changed, just a little. His eyes went to the ceiling cameras, then back to her.
"No terminals here."
Tavi's voice clicked in her ear. "Ask him about the dead man's drawer."
Nia stared at the broker. "Dead man's drawer."
The man cursed under his breath.
"Tavi Quill," he said. "That little rat still owes me two hundred crowns."
"Put it on my tab."
"You don't have a tab. You have a face people want to shoot."
Nia stepped closer. Her ankle screamed. She kept moving.
"I need a terminal. My brother's gone."
The broker's mouth tightened. "Everybody's brother is gone when the locks come down."
"Mine was taken before the blackout."
"Then he's probably dead."
Nia grabbed the front of his coat, shoved him against the counter.
Several weapons came up around the market.
The ember flared in her palm.
Every weapon lowered.
Nobody had decided to do it. Their hands simply dropped as if the sigil had reached inside their wrists and pulled.
The broker stared at her burning hand.
Nia leaned close. "Say that again."
He swallowed. "Your brother. Name?"
"Kellan Calder."
The broker looked toward the back wall.
"Don't say it so loud."
"You know him?"
"I know the name. Not the same thing."
"Where is he?"
"If I knew that, I'd already be selling the information."
"Try me."
He glanced at her palm again. "Dead man's drawer. Twenty minutes. No more."
"You just said you didn't have a terminal."
"I said I don't have one people can see."
He shoved a panel under the counter. A section of floor clicked open, revealing a ladder and a narrow shaft below.
Tavi exhaled in her ear. "Finally."
Nia looked down. "You knew this was here."
"I knew there was a chance."
"You sent me into a sealed government vault with a chance?"
"You came out with the ember, didn't you?"
"I also came out with half my blood on the floor."
"Still counts as out."
The broker pointed to the ladder. "Down. Don't touch the walls. Current's live."
Nia started down.
The shaft opened into a room packed with old equipment. Screens hung from the ceiling like dead windows. Wires ran over the floor in thick bundles. A black-market terminal sat in the middle, wrapped in copper mesh and patched together with parts from at least four different systems.
Its screen was dark.
Nia limped toward it.
"How do I turn it on?"
"You don't," the broker said from above. "It turns on when it likes you."
"I hate machines."
"Machines hate you back."
Tavi cut in. "Put your marked hand on the reader."
The broker went still.
"Absolutely not," he said.
Nia looked up. "Why?"
"Because that terminal doesn't belong to this district. It belongs to the Crownstack. If it recognizes the sigil, every enforcement unit in the city will know where you are."
"They already know where I am."
The broker's eyes narrowed. "No. They know where you were. There's a difference."
Nia looked at the terminal.
Somewhere above them, boots hit the market floor.
The soldiers had found the door.
Tavi's voice sharpened. "Nia, now."
She pressed her burned palm to the reader.
The terminal woke.
A shock ran through her arm. The sigil on her skin lit up, and six rings of red code spun across the screen. The room filled with the smell of hot metal.
A government seal appeared.
**CROWNSTACK CIVIC MEMORY GRID**
**ACCESS DENIED.**
Then the words changed.
**CORE AUTHORITY RECOGNIZED.**
The broker made a strangled sound above them.
"What did you steal?" he asked.
Nia stared at the screen. "I didn't steal this part."
The system asked for a name.
She typed KELLAN CALDER with shaking fingers.
The terminal searched.
No result.
Nia's throat closed.
"Try the family registry," Tavi said. "Not the public census."
She opened the registry.
No result.
"Maybe he used another name," Tavi said.
"He was fourteen. He didn't have another name."
"Nia—"
She slammed her hand against the terminal. "Find him."
The screen flickered.
A warning appeared.
**SUBJECT RECORD PARTIALLY PURGED.**
**PURGE AUTHORITY: SLOANE DIRECTIVE.**
Nia stopped breathing.
Veyra Sloane.
The name sat there in clean white letters, colder than the soldiers' rifles.
"That's not possible," Tavi said.
"You know her?"
"Everybody knows her. Supreme Enforcement Director. She doesn't personally sign deletion orders for kids from District Nine."
"She did this one."
Nia stabbed the record.
The terminal opened a damaged file. Kellan's picture appeared in pieces, one strip at a time. His face loaded last: brown skin, crooked smile, one front tooth chipped from the time he tried to open a bottle with his teeth.
Nia touched the screen.
"Hey, bug," she whispered.
The file listed his age as fifteen.
Then fourteen.
Then **UNKNOWN.**
His district changed from Nine to Zero.
His citizenship status blinked between **ACTIVE** and **NULL.**
A red timer appeared under his name.
**72:00:00**
Nia stared at it.
"What is that?" Tavi asked.
The terminal answered before she could.
**CIVIC IDENTITY ERASURE SCHEDULED.**
**TIME UNTIL FINAL DELETION: 71:59:48.**
The numbers dropped.
47.
46.
45.
Nia leaned closer. "Final deletion?"
The broker came down two steps. "Shut it off."
"What happens when it reaches zero?"
"Shut it off!"
"What happens?"
He didn't answer.
The terminal displayed a second line.
**MEMORY LINKS WILL BE DISCONNECTED.**
Nia's stomach twisted.
"Memory links," she said. "What does that mean?"
Tavi was silent.
That scared her more than the countdown.
"Tavi."
"It means the city won't remember him."
"People don't just forget a person."
"Not people. The grid. Names, records, faces, medical history, school files, payment trails. Everything tied to his civic identity gets cut."
"You said the city won't remember him."
"Nia, listen—"
"Will I remember him?"
Tavi didn't answer fast enough.
The timer dropped to **71:58:31.**
Nia's fingers went numb around the edge of the terminal.
Kellan's picture glitched. For one second, his eyes turned red.
His mouth moved.
*Run.*
Nia jerked back. "He can see me."
"What?"
"He's here. In the system."
The screen filled with static. Kellan's face returned, but the image was wrong now. His smile had vanished. Silver lines crossed his throat and cheeks—the same lines she'd seen in the fire.
A message appeared beneath his picture.
**DO NOT LET THEM OPEN THE SUMMIT.**
Nia's heartbeat slammed against her ribs.
"Who's them?" she whispered.
The soldiers above fired.
The market erupted in screams. Metal crashed. Someone shouted that the back exit was blocked.
The broker scrambled down the ladder. "They're inside!"
Nia grabbed the terminal. "Can I stop the deletion?"
"Not from here."
"Then where?"
"The summit. Crownstack core access."
Tavi's breathing turned rough in her ear. "Nia, we need to leave."
"The summit is twelve districts up. Every gate is sealed."
"I know."
"You said nobody could get through the locks."
"I said nobody normal could."
The terminal screen went black.
Nia's hand jerked away.
A new symbol appeared. Not the government seal. A black rook inside a broken crown.
Tavi went quiet.
The broker backed away from the terminal. "No."
"What?" Nia asked.
The speaker crackled.
A man's voice came through, low and tired.
"Nia Calder."
She froze.
The voice wasn't Kellan's.
It was too calm. Too close. Like he'd been standing beside her the whole time.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
The screen lit again.
A young man appeared in a dark room. Pale face. Black hair falling over one eye. Blood on his collar. A silver key hung from his fingers, turning slowly in front of the camera.
Nia knew that face.
Everybody in the Crownstack knew that face.
Elias Rook.
Corporate heir. Lockdown architect. The rich bastard whose family owned half the city and whose disaster had killed the lights.
His eyes stayed on her burned palm.
"You have seventy-two hours," he said.
Nia stepped toward the screen. "Where's my brother?"
Elias's jaw tightened. "With me."
"Prove it."
He lifted the silver key. The camera panned left.
Kellan sat against a concrete wall behind him, wrists bound with wire, head down. Silver lines glowed across his skin, just like in the picture. He didn't look up.
Nia's breath caught.
"Kellan!"
Her brother didn't move.
Elias lowered the key. "He can't hear you."
"What did you do to him?"
"Nothing yet. But in seventy-two hours, he won't exist."
"You're deleting him."
"Not me. The system. I'm just the one who knows how to stop it."
Nia's hands curled into fists. "What do you want?"
"A trade," Elias said. "You carry the ember. I need it to unlock the summit core."
"So you can open whatever Kellan told me not to let you open."
Elias smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Your brother's smarter than I thought."
"Why would I help you?"
"Because if you don't, the countdown reaches zero and Kellan Calder stops being a person anyone can remember. Including you."
Nia's vision blurred.
"You're lying."
"Memory links aren't symbolic, Nia. They're neural. The grid doesn't just erase records. It erases the connections in your brain that let you hold onto him. You'll wake up one morning and wonder why you're crying. You won't know his name. You won't know his face. You'll walk past his picture and feel nothing."
The room spun.
Tavi's voice cracked in her ear. "Nia, don't listen—"
"Seventy-two hours," Elias said. "Meet me at the summit gate. Bring the ember. I'll give you back your brother."
The screen went black.
Nia stared at the empty terminal.
The timer glowed in the corner.
**71:56:12.**
Above them, the soldiers kicked in the broker's counter.
"Calder's in the basement!"
The broker grabbed Nia's arm. "Go. Now."
She didn't move.
"Nia!" Tavi shouted.
She looked at her burned palm. The ember pulsed under her skin, warm and steady.
Kellan's voice whispered again.
*Don't let them open the summit.*
Nia closed her fist.
"I'm going to the summit," she said.
"That's suicide," the broker said.
"Then I'll die remembering his name."
She turned toward the ladder.
Tavi's voice came through, quieter now. "Nia. If you go up there, you're playing Elias Rook's game."
"I don't care whose game it is."
"He's using you."
"He has Kellan."
"And you have seventy-two hours to figure out why he needs you alive."
Nia stopped at the ladder.
The timer dropped to **71:55:48.**
She looked up.
Boots hammered across the floor above.
Somewhere in the city, Elias Rook was holding her brother.
Somewhere in the system, Kellan's name was being erased one second at a time.
Nia grabbed the ladder.
"Tavi," she said. "How do I get to the summit?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then he sighed.
"You're really doing this."
"How do I get there?"
"You don't. Not through the gates. But there's another way."
"Tell me."
"You're not going to like it."
"I don't like anything right now."
Tavi's voice dropped. "The old transit line. Runs under the districts, straight to the summit core. It's been sealed for fifteen years."
"Can you open it?"
"Maybe. If you can get to the access point without dying first."
Nia started climbing.
"Where's the access point?"
"District Four. The old hospital."
Nia froze.
District Four.
Where the first lockdown had started.
Where the bodies were still sealed inside.
"Tavi."
"I know."
"You're sending me into a plague zone."
"I'm sending you into the only route that doesn't end with a bullet in your head."
The soldiers above kicked the basement door open.
"Movement below!"
Nia pulled herself up into the market. The broker had already run. Half the stalls were empty. The rest of the crowd pressed toward the back exit, shoving each other through the narrow door.
Nia limped toward them.
A rifle barrel swung toward her face.
She dropped.
The shot tore through the stall beside her head.
Nia rolled, shoved herself up, and ran.
Her ankle screamed. Her shoulder bled. The ember in her palm burned hotter with every step.
She reached the back exit and threw herself through.
The alley outside was dark, wet, and full of people running in every direction.
Nia picked one and followed.
Tavi's voice clicked back in. "Nia. You still alive?"
"Mostly."
"Good. Head east. I'll guide you to the hospital."
"And then?"
"And then we go down."
Nia ran.
Behind her, the soldiers poured into the alley.
Ahead of her, the city rose in locked tiers, one district stacked on top of the next, all the way to the summit.
Seventy-two hours.
She looked at her palm.
The timer glowed through her skin now, faint red numbers counting down inside the ember.
**71:54:33.**
Nia ran faster.