Police Station — Interview Room, present.

  Mark rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Across the table, Caelan and Keira lounged in their chairs like they owned the place.

  The door cracked open. Fiona slipped in, hands in her pockets. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Caelan brightened. “Aw, no—please. We’re just getting to the good bit.”

  Mark sighed. “He’s spent half an hour telling me they found a house, went shopping, and he got drunk.”

  Keira thumped the table, laughing. “Who is this guy? I like him. He’s right—Captain, you still suck at telling stories.”

  “Aww, screw all you fuckers,” Caelan said, twirling a finger in the air in mock glamour.

  Fiona leaned on the table. “I’ve got good news and bad news. First—the parents of the girl, Megan? They’re here. She’s safe. So… thank you. I don’t know how you pulled it off, but thank you. They’d like to speak with you later, if there’s time.”

  Keira shrugged, genuine for a beat. “Don’t worry about it. She seemed like a little cutie. Happy to help.”

  “Fuck yeah, sis,” Caelan said, and they fist?bumped.

  Fiona exhaled. “Bad news is: the men you put in holding— we’ve been ordered to release them.”

  “The shit?” Caelan and Keira said together.

  “I know,” Fiona said quickly. “But this isn’t a normal situation. We don’t have chargeable evidence yet. We’ll keep a close eye on them.”

  Keira’s eyes went flat. “Want me to deal with it, Captain?”

  Caelan’s answer was iron. “No. Leave it for now. But take a note of them, Master Sergeant.”

  “Understood, Captain.”

  “Whoa—calm down,” Mark cut in. “You said you’re not here to cause problems. Let us handle it. I’ll look into it myself.”

  Caelan held Mark’s gaze. “Fine. But hear me: if any of them take a step toward a child again, they forfeit their heads. Am I clear?”

  Fiona grimaced. “That’s not all. You two have been pushed up the chain.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mark muttered.

  “No. We’re to clear the room and wait. No one goes in until whatever brass they’re sending arrives.”

  Caelan slumped back, disgusted. “I’m sick to fuck of people trying to dictate the terms. Master Sergeant—clear the building. Leave these two.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  A rush of wind, a pressure change—then silence. Every boot, every voice in the corridor, gone. In a heartbeat, the station was empty save for the three of them. Keira reappeared beside Caelan and set a fresh coffee in front of him.

  “I fucking love you,” Caelan said, sincere as sunrise.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Keira said, retaking her seat.

  Mark jolted. “Where did they go? Are they safe?”

  Fiona’s hand snapped to her sidearm—only for a pen to be in her grip. She stared, swore, and hurled it onto the table. Then she grabbed Caelan’s jacket. “Where are they? Bring them back. Now.”

  Caelan’s eyes went cold and steady. He pointed to the chair beside Mark. “Sit your arse in that seat. Right now.”

  Fiona blinked, then circled, slammed the chair back, and sat—unblinking right back at him.

  “Good,” Caelan said. “Let’s be clear because I’m done repeating myself every time a new suit wants to strut. You two need to listen. Neither of you signed up for this. But it’s happening. What do you think the world does when it finds out? How does anyone begin to handle any of this? And that’s not even my biggest problem.”

  Caelan relaxed again, saying, “Look, every shit?storm reality can throw is queued up outside your nice glass doors. When we’re done here, I need people who can tell what they’ve seen. I need voices that challenge me. I need people like you. If I wanted to tell the Prime Minister right now, I’d be doing it in his bedroom. Wouldn’t even be hard.”

  He eased back, palms open. “So please—hear me out. Your people are just outside, and—wait. You locked down the building, right?”

  Keira shot him a look. “Duh.”

  “Good.” He let some of the iron bleed out of his tone. “Tomorrow, when everyone wakes up and hears we’re here—and that a new reality just got born on Earth—I need your help easing them. We’re not here to rule anything. But we do have a mission. And I have to complete it. It’s bigger than any of us.”

  Mark worked his jaw, then nodded once. “As long as you’re here and not harming anyone, we’ll listen. For now.”

  “Thank you,” Caelan said, meaning it.

  Keira cocked her head at Fiona. “So what’s it going to be? You staying in here—or joining your friends in the cold, motherfucker?”

  Fiona’s mouth twitched. “I’m so telling your lieutenant about your swearing if I ever meet her, motherfucker.”

  Keira grinned. “She’s a fucking lyra—pain in my arse.”

  Caelan clapped once. “Right. Fuck it. On with the story.”

  —

  Caelan and Takeshi clinked their last bottles. Caelan stood and hauled Takeshi up by an elbow. “Christ, mate—you might want to sleep this off.”

  Swaying, Takeshi pointed the wrong way with great confidence. “You’re a good guy. I know I complain, but you just—get me.”

  “I know.” Caelan patted his back. “End of this street, turn right, straight on—that’s the inn.”

  “Pfft, I know that.” Takeshi squinted. “Where are you going?”

  Caelan shrugged into his battered duster, threads giving up in a few places. “Just need a quick word with someone.”

  “Don’t tell me.” Takeshi waved him off, already staggering down the wrong side street. “Probably something dumb.”

  Caelan laughed under his breath. “That guy’s a riot.” He turned toward the main road feeding the plaza.

  A scream knifed the air from the south gate. Over it, Bob’s voice: “Call for backup!”

  The garden street was strangely quiet—most of the city’s noise had pooled at the plaza ahead. As Caelan angled toward the sound, he passed the flower-seller from earlier, lounging against a wall like she’d been waiting.

  “Taking care of that perfect little rose from now on?” she asked, eyes half-lidded.

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re cryptic as hell?” Caelan didn’t stop.

  “It has its uses.”

  “Aurex? Ravon? Third party?” he tossed over his shoulder.

  “For the moment—free agent.”

  “I’m about to make a mess,” he said, already moving. “If you want to talk, I’ll swing by your stall later. If you’re gone, I’ll assume your answer.”

  “Very well, madman of the north,” she murmured.

  Caelan booted a pebble, muttering as he walked. “Perfect. Couldn’t be last week—had to be today.” He ticked on fingers. “Two puffed-up commanders, a city swearing to one or the other, and now—what—an emerald-class bastard beating on the gate?” His jacket pocket tore. He stared at the dangling flap, then started laughing. “Yup. That tops the day. Can’t wait to see Solara’s face.”

  He broke into a run. One long step, a second, and he leapt, catching a parapet, flowing up and over onto the roofline. He sprinted the tiles, wind tearing his grin wide.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  The plaza swelled before him, a sea of faces turned toward the central execution platform. Aurex was still talking, oily vowels rolling. On the dais: a small figure, a bag over the head, body swaddled and strapped to the block. An executioner hefted a huge axe. Two armoured guards, spears braced, flanking to intimidate.

  Caelan didn’t slow.

  A delayed gust slammed the stands as he launched from the last roof, tucked, and double-footed the axeman centre-mass. The man went airborne, cartwheeled through the north arch in a burst of splinters.

  Before the spearmen could even pivot, Caelan stepped through the first—hand like a blade at the throat. The guard flew backwards, burst into drifting golden orbs before he hit the flags.

  Caelan planted, spun on one heel, and scythed his leg across the second guard’s jaw. The man left his feet, smashed a support on the east stage, and came apart into gold midair.

  Silence hit like a slap.

  Then Caelan’s laugh—wild, delighted—ripped across the plaza and left the crowd staring, mouths open. He threw his head back, kept laughing, and yelled, “Happenin’, fuckers!”

  Aurex lurched to his feet, mask of composure cracking. “What—what in the stars do you think you’re doing? Guards! Remove that madman now! This city is under my command. We will not accept—”

  Caelan only laughed harder, louder, riding the echo. “Rexy-baby, chill the fuck out. We—”

  He stopped, stared, and then wheezed with fresh laughter. “Oh no. No way. What are those, man?” He pointed, helpless. “Did you lose a bet? Is that a tourist attraction? Wait till my sis gets a load of those bad boys.”

  Aurex’s jaw worked. Somewhere in the crowd, Keira’s voice knifed through: “Eye! Brows!”

  “SHUT UP, KEIRA!” Aurex roared, vein ticking.

  Caelan bent over laughing. “How did you survive meeting her with those weapons, mate?”

  Aurex snapped to his men. “Do you think you can take us all on? Anyone who brings me that man is promoted to executive. Bring him to me—now!”

  From the throng: “He’s just a little bitch, bro—fuck him up!” Keira again.

  “That’s 402, Langston!” Solara’s voice, acid-smooth.

  “Where the fuck did you get your degree—it’s 392!” Keira shot back.

  “Garron, was she swearing today?” Solara called.

  “Not too many, as I recall,” Garron rumbled.

  “Aww, hey lovelies!” Braen bellowed. “The boys took Veyra to lunch. We should all go for dinner!”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Caelan! What did you do to this poor girl?” Solara again.

  “What girl?” Caelan yelled back, still grinning.

  “Just you wait until I get hold of you, ‘Captain.’ You’ll wish for double training!” Solara snapped. “And watch the swearing!”

  “WILL YOU ALL BE QUIET!” Aurex thundered, face red.

  Caelan tilted his head. “Rexy-baby, breathe. There’s fuck-all you can do. You’re spread a little thin to be up on your high horse.”

  “You’ve no idea what we’re capable of,” Aurex spat.

  Caelan rubbed his chin like he was doing math. “Mm. Let’s see. Fourteen thousand total followers. Satellite towns flying your banner east, west, south. And here’s where you fucked up, mate—it’s going to bite you hard. You sent sixty-five per cent of your force chasing one Emerald-class? Miscounted, didn’t you—since it’s currently beating on your south gate.”

  “You’re lying,” Aurex said, but the doubt bled through. “You’ve got to be.”

  “Sorry to say it, but even your finest is pretty poor.” Caelan lifted his voice, bright and careless. “So you know what, my beautiful eyebrow friend? I hereby declare war on you—and anyone in this shithole who backs you.”

  “He’s mad,” Aurex muttered. “He’s utterly mad.”

  A man rose beside Aurex, one eyebrow arched. “Come down here and hand me your head now, or you and your friends are in for a rough time.”

  Caelan flicked him a glance. “Sit the fuck down and wait your turn, bitch. I’ll get to you when I’m good and ready.”

  He dropped to a knee by the bound figure on the block. “I don’t even know what we’re fighting over…”

  He whisked the sack from the prisoner’s head—and blinked. A tiny girl stared up: long black hair, bright red skin, small horns, eyes huge with tears. Six, maybe.

  “Oh my god,” Caelan breathed—then lit up. “You’re so fucking cool. Are those horns real?” He hovered a fingertip near one, then thought better of it, lowering his hand with a grin. “Sharp and everything. Wait till my sis sees you, little cutie.”

  He slid a steady palm between her shoulder blades. “Hey. What do you say—want to get out of here, little one?”

  She sniffed and nodded, quick and jerky.

  “Good girl.” His voice softened. “Give my friends and me a few minutes to clean this up, and we’ll go. Stay right by me, yeah? Nothing to be scared of.”

  Caelan hooked one arm around the sack binding the girl, smiled up at Aurex and Ravon—then barely lifted his leg and stamped.

  The execution platform shattered, timbers exploding into dust and splinters. People near the dais screamed and stumbled back. Smoke and grit rolled out in a low cloud. Over it, Caelan’s laughter carried.

  When the dust thinned, he was standing in front of the girl, body between her and the crowd, the child seated on the broken planks behind his calves.

  He looked up at the high dais, hands sliding into his pockets. “Such a good boy, Ravy. Now—something about a head? Want five minutes to slap on some lipstick, or you good like that?”

  Ravon’s jaw ticked. “Tell me, Captain. We’ve been gathering intel for our expansion north, and every report says the Madman of the North and his gremlin have the whole region locked down. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  Caelan grinned. “Aw, fan, are you?” He stage-whispered with one hand to his mouth. “Psst—tip, lad. Don’t let sis hear you. That’s her nickname.”

  Ravon drew a long metal staff, jewel-studded like looted treasure. “Looks like you’ve saved me the trouble of hunting you down.”

  Caelan laughed, free and loud.

  “Will you stop this nonsense?” Ravon snapped.

  Caelan only laughed louder—until the little demon girl behind him let out a tiny giggle, too.

  Ravon’s voice cracked. “You are one thing, but that red thing will not laugh at my expense. How dare that disgusting creature mock me?”

  Caelan’s laughter died. He looked up at Ravon, voice gone flat. “Are you taking the fucking piss? Here? You’re a racist—here of all places? Look around. That guy over there’s practically purple.” He flicked his chin toward the crowd. “Let me get this straight. You kill one of your so-called White Beasts—we call them White Deaths up north, by the way, much cooler—and suddenly you’re all that?”

  “How—” Ravon started.

  “Howl, fuckface.” Caelan’s stare didn’t blink. “If I want you to talk, I’ll ram my fist up your arse and work you like a puppet. Shut up until I’m done.”

  He swept a hand at the pomp and cloaks. “You capture a little girl and throw a party over it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Look at you—dressed like some holier-than-thou parade float. Do us a favour: fuck off and come back when you’re serious. Because all I see is a joke.”

  Ravon stared at him for a long, hot second—then turned on his heel and walked.

  Caelan muttered, half to himself, “Yeah, Solara’s gonna beat me senseless for that one.”

  “Fuck,” the little demon repeated softly.

  Caelan turned, gentled instantly, palm on her shoulder. “Oh no, no, no—bad word. You don’t use that, pretty please.”

  “…fuck,” she tried again, smaller.

  He sighed. “Yep. Solara’s definitely going to kill me.”

  He straightened and looked up at a stunned Aurex. “Now, what’s going on here? I thought you promised these good people a promotion for bringing me in. Honestly, bit of a let-down, Rexy-baby—most of ’em are just standing there with their thumbs up their arses.”

  Aurex snapped, voice cracking the plaza. “GET HIM. Bring him to me now! No live fire until our people are out of the line!”

  For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then the crowd started edging toward the entrances, trying to leave in slow, nervous trickles.

  “Seriously?” Caelan called.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man in a city guard coat strode forward and knelt before the stage, a spiked morning star hanging from his fist. “Mr Vallis, it would be my honour to repay the generosity you’ve shown us.”

  Aurex’s mouth curled smugly. “You’re in for it now, Captain—you and those split ends.” He raised his voice in the plaza. “See, everyone? This is what it takes not only to live in Virelith but to help it grow. You have my thanks, young man.”

  Behind him, Caelan eased the small demon girl out of the sack, patting her head. “You’re doing amazing, little one. Stay right here. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  She touched her chest. “Mynxi.”

  “What?” Caelan blinked.

  “I’m Mynxi,” she said, slower.

  “Oh—Mynxi. It—”

  Her eyes went wide.

  The kneeling guard whipped the morning star toward Caelan’s spine. Caelan went from crouch to standing in a blink, turning 180 and catching the handle just short of impact. His gaze went arctic.

  “I’m in the middle of something,” he said, calm as ice. “Go away.”

  He drove a fist into the man’s sternum. The guard flew, smashed up into Aurex’s dais, and reached a shaking hand toward his patron—“S…sir…”—before his body unravelled into drifting golden orbs.

  Caelan weighed the weapon and snorted. “Cool. But—nah.” He let it clatter on the stones.

  A fresh wave of panic rolled through the plaza. Someone screamed. People shoved for the exits.

  Caelan didn’t look. He turned and dropped back to a knee beside the girl. “Mynxi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Caelan. And while I’m here, nothing’s going to hurt you.” She teared up and hugged him hard. He hugged back, steady. “Wait right here. Don’t move. My friends will be here soon, and then we’ll get food. Deal?”

  She nodded fast.

  Three more guards were charged.

  “Oh, now we’re dancing, boys,” Caelan said, standing.

  The first swung an axe. Caelan slid inside, trapped the man’s forearm between knee and elbow—crack—and booted him backwards. The other two stabbed in with spears. Caelan let both points miss by inches, seized their shafts, and cross-steered them—each man driven onto the other’s blade. They hit the flagstones and blew apart into gold.

  “All these guards and not a single sword, Fucking ass-wipes,” Caelan muttered.

  Two more yelled and sprinted at him. Caelan sighed, palmed a fallen spear, and javelined it. The first man lifted from his feet; the impact sang through the plaza and pinned him to the stand—already turning to orbs. The second froze, staring at the glittering remnants of the comrade who’d been at his shoulder a heartbeat ago.

  “Don’t do it,” Caelan said. “Don’t be an idiot.”

  The guard screamed and charged anyway.

  Caelan spun the second spear once in his left hand and sent it clean through. Another burst of gold.

  He rolled his left shoulder, winced. “Shit. Still sore.” Then he grinned. “One arm tied behind my back, it is then.”

  Caelan looked up at Aurex. “Right, mate—this is getting a little embarrassing.”

  Aurex snapped, “Mr Pael—now!”

  Twenty riflemen poured from behind the dais, fanning into a firing line and sighting down over the crowd. Pael stepped behind them, voice carrying: “You have one minute to clear the line of fire. Anyone left in the path is considered a lost investment. Say your last words, foul-mouthed beast.”

  On the north side, people broke into a panicked rush for the exits, shoving to get clear as fast as they could.

  Caelan smiled. “Well, shit. Guess I’d better figure out how I’m getting out of—”

  Thunk. Something cracked the back of his head.

  “Ow. What was—” He turned. A white-haired woman stood there, holding a sheathed sword she’d just bonked him with.

  Dry as dust: “Why are you here, Caelan?”

  “The fuck do you mean—who even are you?” He squinted, then blinked. “Oh. You know me; I don’t know you. Sorry. Also—how in the holy hell did you get that stunning?”

  She actually flinched, then rallied. “Great. So that’s it.” She jabbed a finger at him. “First: what’s with all the swearing? Calm it, bucko. Second: how in the beauty of the goddess do you know Solara? Third—don’t you dare. And last: what are you playing at? I get that they need stopping, but… what—overcompensating because you’re only five-five? Get over it. Not that there’s much you can get over.”

  Caelan tilted his head, wicked grin. “Five-five and a half. And second—what, you think because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, I’m going to take your shit? Dream on, shortie.”

  She folded her arms, pouting. “I’m a girl. I’m allowed to be smaller. And you’re forgetting something, idiot—they’re about to fire.”

  “Ah. Right.” He nodded at her sword. “Is that… a blade? Any chance I could—y’know?”

  “Thirty seconds!” Pael barked. “Miss—clear the line!”

  She sniffed. “I don’t think you deserve it—not with the way you’ve been behaving.”

  Caelan pressed his palms together. “Super-duper, please. I’ll be quick. Pretty please.”

  Mynxi, crouched behind him, peered up at the woman. Elyria glanced down. “What do you think, Mynxi?”

  Mynxi pondered solemnly, then smiled and said, very gently: “Fuck.”

  Caelan pointed at the kid without looking away from Elyria. “She was already saying that when I found her.”

  Elyria sighed. “Fine. It’s not actually mine—I was asked to give it to you.”

  She handed him the sheathed weapon.

  “—it’s from—”

  “Solara,” Caelan finished softly, eyes on the steel.

  Elyria blinked. “How do you know?”

  He smiled sideways. “She never shuts up about a custom sword for me. Weird length, strangely thin… even without seeing it, I can feel it.”

  Elyria raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, because nothing about that is creepy at all.”

  Caelan glanced back and softened. “Hey, little one—do me a favour? Stand with this very serious, very short lady while I handle the loud boys.”

  Mynxi nodded, scooted over, and planted herself beside Elyria. “Hi. I’m Mynxi,” she said, beaming.

  Elyria’s smile broke bright. “Hi, Mynxi. I’m Elyria. You stick with me and let this dumb, idiotic man-child do the messy part, okay?”

  Caelan huffed a laugh, then faced the firing line. “Oh, shit—even your name is beautiful. Loud mouth for it, though.”

  “Hurry up,” Elyria said, amused. “I need to see this to believe it—the great Caelan fighting to save a ‘demon.’”

  “Do you actually fuckin' know me?”

  “Try again without the swearing, and I might tell you.”

  He sighed. “Elyria… have we met before?”

  She folded her arms and looked away. “Not telling.”

  “Fine. Can’t be hot and normal,” he muttered.

  Mynxi stage-whispered, delighted, “She’s a mean lady.”

  Elyria’s jaw ticked. “Just get on with it.”

  On the dais, Pael lifted his arm. “Fourth formation! Men—ready… aim—”

  Caelan drew the blade.

  The sound it made wasn’t metal; it was as if a dry thundercrack ripped through the air in the plaza. Even Aurex flinched. “What in the stars was that?”

  Caelan stared down the steel, a crooked grin creeping in. “When she’s right, she’s right.” His thumb brushed an inscription near the guard. “‘Our Revolution.’ Shit, she actually put it in writing.” A low laugh. “Well, now it’s our mess.”

  He rolled his shoulders and set his stance—rear foot planted, front knee dipped, spine angled forward, the sword drawn back along his line like a coiled promise. His eyes went wide and unblinking; the grin sharpened.

  “Come on then, Rexy-baby—don’t fluff it. Man up, don’t flinch.”

  Aurex’s voice cracked across the dais. “KILL HIM!”

  Pael’s hand chopped. “FIRE!”

  Caelan fixed his gaze on the firing squad, smile stretching wider, wider. Holy shit, what have I done? Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m in over my bastard head. He breathed once, slow. Come on, Caelan. You knew a commander like this would keep an elite line. And here you are, sprinting in like a complete idiot. His pulse settled. No. This is the moment you’ve always wanted—everything falling into place, even through the mess. If they think they can bully because they’re bigger—fuck ’em. If they punish the weak for not fighting back—fuck ’em. If they want to play custodians of the universe—over my fucking dead body. You’ve trained for this since day one. So do it, or die here and now.

  The front rank—ten rifles—snapped up and opened fire, marching forward.

  Steel whispered.

  Caelan moved just enough. The sword blurred, cutting clean through rounds as they screamed in. The plaza filled with the staccato of gunfire braided to the hiss of edge through metal; it sounded like a storm opening in the square’s heart. He didn’t blink. He didn’t step. He let the bullets come, and he pared them down to nothing.

  From behind the firing line, Pael’s confidence bled out of his face. On the dais, Aurex did too.

  “Second wave!” Pael barked. The first rank ducked and peeled; the line behind them took their place and fired.

  Aurex’s voice cracked. “Pael—how is he doing that? How can that bastard possibly move that fast?”

  Pael’s jaw worked. “Sir, I—I don’t know.”

  Caelan laughed under the noise, blade still stitching silver through brass. “Oh, do you idiots still not get it?” He shaved three rounds into dust with a flick of his wrist. “You’ve worked your boys to the bone since you sent most of them away. I don’t even need to stop a fifth of these—they’re sloppy.” He nodded at their staggered spacing. “But I’ll throw you a bone: formation isn’t terrible. Pin me until you close. Nice, Rexy-baby.”

  He glanced over his shoulder—mostly to showboat. “You good back there, little buddy?”

  Mynxi stared up at him, hands clasped, eyes shining like he’d hung the moons.

  Elyria muttered, “It’s not even that impressive. You’re just—”

  He kept smiling.

  “Wait—stop that. It’s weird,” she said, but there was a hint of a grin.

  “Elyria.”

  “What?”

  “Thanks for watching Mynxi.” He shaved two more rounds off the line, then added, soft and even, “If this goes sideways, promise me you’ll get her out. I’ll hold them.”

  A beat. Elyria’s mouth tugged. “It won’t come to that… will it?”

  He didn’t answer—just kept carving rounds out of the air as the plaza churned, onlookers panicking and shoving for the north, east, west, and south arches as fast as they could squeeze through.

  “Fourth wave! Supply forward!” Pael shouted.

  “SOLARA!” Caelan roared over the gunfire, eyes sparkling. “Anytime today, princess!”

  “Fifth wave—spread out and hit him from all angles! He can’t manage this many!” Pael barked from behind the line.

  Aurex laughed, emboldened. “See? You never stood a chance—you or that little split?ends gremlin, Keira.”

  Caelan chuckled. “Fuck—what did she do to you, mate?”

  The formation took a single step—and a voice fell from the sky:

  “One Shot—Full Mag.” Keira sang.

  Five dry cracks. Five helms snapped back. Five men blew to gold before their boots finished the step.

  Light erupted. Hissing canisters clattered across stone; a ring of white smoke geysered up as the ground shivered—Takeshi’s toys doing their work. The plaza dissolved into a swirling haze.

  Aurex pitched on his dais, coughing. “Pael—what was that? What is all this smoke?”

  From somewhere behind the rifles, Pael’s answer came tight, off?balance. “Sir—I… wish I could say. I didn’t see them coming. It appears he has more tricks up his sleeve.”

  For a heartbeat, everything stilled. Then the fog filled with sound—laughter, shouting, someone sobbing—and, clearest of all, Caelan’s voice drifting through the murk:

  “Ow—ow—ow! Will you stop hitting me, Solara? Not now!”

  Aurex’s bravado thinned to a whisper. “Who… who in the stars are you?”