Chapter 22 · The Old Command

The battlefield hanging over the city moved with them.

Every few seconds, the walls of the maintenance tunnel flickered into something else: a ruined boulevard under a red sky, a line of kneeling soldiers, towers burning in the distance. In the center of each projection stood a younger Eli Quill, sealed inside black command armor, one gauntlet raised toward the horizon.

His voice rolled through the tunnel speakers.

"Seventh Legion. Final cleansing protocol. Execute."

The image vanished. The tunnel returned—wet metal, emergency lights, the bitter stink of scorched insulation.

Sera Vale sagged against Eli's shoulder.

Blood had soaked through the hand he pressed against her side. It slipped between his fingers in hot, steady pulses. Each one seemed to drag something out of him.

"Stay awake," he said.

"I am awake. Unfortunately."

Her voice was thin, but the blade was still there. Sera could turn a dying breath into an insult if given enough time.

Eli tightened his grip. "You took a cannon blast for me. You don't get to complain about the conversation."

"I complain because you are making that face."

"What face?"

"The one that says you are about to do something stupid and noble.