Chapter 284
“Tyler,” Wake says, his voice suddenly razor-sharp, slicing through the chaos before it begins.
Tyler’s already moving.
Wake turns to him, eyes locked. “Take her.”
Tyler catches me in his arms without hesitation, bracing my weight like it’s nothing. His grip is steady but careful, like I might shatter. I’m not sure I wouldn’t.
“Take cover,” Wake orders. “All of you.”
Peter moves to shield Delphi instinctively, guiding her behind a stack of metal crates near the back of the bay. Malu follows, gun already drawn. Arista and Silo shift forward as Wake steps into the center of the room, his presence burning with purpose.
The temperature drops with Lile’s first step.
I see it all from Tyler’s arms—blurred but vivid. My blood’s still crawling with leftover lightning, and everything is too bright, too loud, too fast.
Lile makes the first move.
He cuts through the air like an avalanche in motion, striking with a halberd made entirely of compressed ice. It howls as it swings, arcs wide, and slams into the floor where Silo had been a heartbeat ago. The impact cracks the reinforced metal, sending frost spiderwebbing outward in every direction.
Silo rolls, comes up swinging, his hammer shattering the leftover frost. “Cute,” he grunts, and lunges at Lile with a roar.
The room bursts into action like a bomb going off.
Elanora surges in next, arms glowing with sea-glass green light. Her hands ripple, and waves of pressure slam into Cora, throwing her back into a pillar with a hard crack. Cora hits the ground, dazed, then pushes up to her knees, blood at the corner of her mouth. She pulls a stun disc from her belt and flings it at Elanora without hesitation. It explodes in a burst of static, but Elanora ducks behind a summoned wall of water just in time.
The hangar is chaos. Boots slam against the floor, sparks fly as weapons clash, and the distant hum of the ships—silent all this time—now feels expectant, like they’re watching too.
Miore joins Arista against Elanora, ice meeting blade as she dances between them, graceful and merciless. She’s faster than she should be—like her body bends the water around her for speed and agility. Arista tries to pin her with a feint and slice, but Elanora disappears into a spinning arc of mist and reappears behind her, striking with brutal precision.
Miore counters with a spike of ice, jagged and aimed for her legs. Elanora stumbles but doesn’t fall.
“Damn it,” he mutters, eyes flicking to Wake. “We need to separate them!”
“I know,” Wake growls, already toe-to-toe with Lile.
They clash in a flurry of movement that’s inhuman. The air freezes and cracks around them with every blow. Wake’s blades dance—quick, purposeful, fluid—but Lile’s ice reshapes itself every time he lands a strike. Armor regenerates. Weapons morph. Offense becomes defense in an instant.
“Why do you continue to fight?” Lile says, voice smooth, impassive. “What good is mere swordplay against a god?”
Wake snarls, kicking off the ground and bringing both blades down hard. Lile catches them with a frozen shield, the impact sending a ripple of frost up the wall behind him.
“Funny,” Wake snaps. “You’re still talking like you’re winning.”
Cora’s back in the fight now, flanking Elanora, using a concussion round to knock her off balance while Arista presses with twin blades. Miore is directing the fight like a battlefield conductor—ice forming where they need footing, moisture pulled from the air to bind their opponents’ steps.
But even with coordination, it’s not enough.
They’re Heirs.
Lile and Elanora don’t just fight—they command the elements. They bend the battlefield to themselves. When Elanora screams, it isn’t a sound—it’s a wave, a concussive blast of force that sends Silo tumbling backward. Lile’s halberd morphs mid-swing into a bow of ice, loosing a barrage of glacial shards that nearly pierce Cora’s shield barrier.
The sound of each impact is deafening.
It’s brutal. Controlled. Efficient.
We have the numbers.
They have the bloodline.
My fingers twitch where they dangle uselessly at my side. I want to stand. I want to help. But my body’s too drained, my vision flickering at the edges. I’m barely hanging on, my strength bled out somewhere back in that ruined lab.
Wake keeps fighting like the world depends on it—because it does. His movements are fury and focus combined, not just attacking but testing Lile, watching, adapting. Every time Lile shifts form, Wake shifts too, blade to elbow, kick to sweep. It’s not just a duel. It’s a war inside a war.
“You don’t have to do this,” Wake says between blows.
Lile’s answer is a punch of cold that sears across Wake’s ribs, making him grunt and stumble back.
“I do,” Lile replies, stepping forward. “You chose wrong.”
And all I can think is—we can’t keep this up.
Not like this.
Not for long.
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