Kaelen dreamed of falling.

  Not through air—but through absence.

  There was no lightning. No blood-hum. No warmth in his chest. Just a hollow pressure where something fundamental used to exist, like a limb torn out of his soul and cauterized shut.

  Voices drifted in and out.

  “…stabilized the organs—”

  “…neurological response intact—”

  “…but the core—”

  Pain bloomed.

  Kaelen gasped.

  His eyes flew open.

  White light stabbed into his skull. He groaned, chest seizing as something tight constricted his ribs. Tubes ran into his arms. Bands wrapped his torso. His entire body felt… wrong. Heavy. Mute.

  “Easy,” a medic said quickly. “Don’t try to move.”

  Kaelen swallowed, throat raw. “The city.”

  The medic hesitated.

  “She stands,” Orion’s voice said from the corner. “Barely.”

  Kaelen turned his head. Orion sat against the wall, armor discarded, sleeves rolled up. Dried blood streaked his knuckles. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

  “You stopped the bomb,” Orion continued. “The tunnels collapsed. Purifier units retreated.”

  Kaelen exhaled shakily. Relief washed through him—

  Then something twisted inside his chest.

  “Why do I feel…” He pressed a trembling hand to his sternum. “Empty?”

  The medbay went quiet.

  Orion didn’t answer.

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  The lead physician stepped forward. Old. Scarred. His eyes avoided Kaelen’s.

  “Your Ni Core,” the doctor said carefully. “It absorbed the backlash from the bomb.”

  Kaelen frowned. “Absorbed?”

  “It fractured,” the doctor corrected. “Then disintegrated.”

  The words didn’t land.

  Kaelen waited for the rest of the sentence.

  When it didn’t come, he laughed weakly. “That’s… not possible. Cores regenerate. Slowly, but—”

  “Not when they’re shattered,” the doctor said. “There is nothing left to heal.”

  The world tilted.

  Kaelen’s fingers twitched. Instinctively, desperately, he reached inward—

  Nothing answered.

  No hum. No spark.

  Just silence.

  “No,” Kaelen whispered.

  Orion stood. “Kaelen—”

  Kaelen ripped the tubes from his arms. Alarms shrieked as blood spattered the sheets.

  “No!” Kaelen shouted. “I can still fight. I can still—”

  He tried to summon lightning.

  Nothing.

  He tried blood-energy.

  Nothing.

  The void inside him only deepened.

  Kaelen sagged back onto the bed, breath coming in ragged bursts.

  “I saved the city,” he said hoarsely.

  The doors opened.

  Rizen Volkov entered the medbay.

  He didn’t rush. Didn’t soften his stride. His crimson cloak was immaculate, his face carved from stone.

  Everyone else left.

  Rizen stopped at the foot of Kaelen’s bed.

  “You did,” Rizen said.

  Kaelen looked up, hope flaring painfully in his chest. “Then you understand. I warned you. I stopped it. I—”

  “But a Warlord,” Rizen interrupted, “does not survive on good intentions.”

  The hope died.

  Rizen turned slightly, hands clasped behind his back. “Your core is gone. Permanently.”

  Kaelen clenched his jaw. “Then I’ll train without Ni. Weapons. Strategy. There are other ways to—”

  “You are done,” Rizen said flatly.

  The words struck harder than the bomb.

  “I have logistics papers prepared,” Rizen continued. “Supply coordination. Non-combat support. You will serve the House where you are most… useful.”

  Kaelen stared at him.

  “Logistics?” His voice cracked. “I am your son.”

  “You were,” Rizen corrected. “Now you are a liability.”

  Orion stepped forward. “Father—”

  “This is not a debate,” Rizen snapped. “The Purifiers adapt. Weakness invites annihilation.”

  Kaelen’s vision blurred.

  “I saved everyone,” he whispered.

  Rizen met his gaze at last. There was no cruelty there.

  Only judgment.

  “And it cost us a weapon,” Rizen said. “Wars are not won by sacrifices that cannot be replaced.”

  He turned.

  “Recover,” Rizen added. “Then report for reassignment.”

  The doors closed behind him.

  Silence rushed in.

  Kaelen’s chest hitched.

  He grabbed the edge of the bed and screamed.

  Not in pain.

  In rage.

  In grief.

  He seized a glass vase from the nearby table and hurled it at the door. It shattered uselessly against reinforced alloy.

  “I DID EVERYTHING RIGHT!” Kaelen roared. “I WAS RIGHT!”

  Orion stood frozen.

  Kaelen sagged back, shaking.

  “I’m nothing,” he whispered.

  Orion didn’t contradict him.

  He only turned away—because for the first time in his life, he didn’t know how to protect his brother.

  Outside the medbay—

  Unseen by either of them—

  Lyra Volkov stood in the corridor, one hand pressed to the wall, tears sliding silently down her face.