Chapter 6 · The Memory Nail

The defense cannons groaned above Ashring like wounded beasts.

Their barrels had turned inward.

Through the council chamber’s shattered skylight, Kellan saw one of them tracking the lower districts, its targeting lens glowing a cold, murderous blue. Far beneath the glass and steel ribs of the arcology, millions of civilians pressed against locked transit gates and sealed shelter doors. Their voices rose through the ventilation shafts in a single, muffled animal cry.

The Crown system answered with a calm female voice.

Old Purification Protocol is armed. Primary command authority confirmed. Emergency inheritance recognized.

Kellan’s knees buckled.

Brom caught him under one arm before his face struck the council table. The mechanic smelled of gun oil, sweat, and scorched insulation. Blood had dried in the creases around his eyes.

Stay with me, pilot, Brom growled. You do not get to save us and then die on the floor.

Kellan tried to breathe. Each inhale dragged fire along his spine. Beneath his skin, the neural core pulsed in time with the defense grid.