6

  Harun had left.

  Kirom stood still, taking in the absence of the old machine of a man. This time, their conversation had ended in a different kind of silence. A quiet thrill shivered through him. Not triumph, but definitely earned.

  Harun had withdrawn in an instant. That was what made him dangerous. No ego. No greed. Only the cold conviction of a person who believed suffering to be a necessity.

  Kirom knew that too well. And perhaps, in another life, he might have respected it.

  He scanned his body. Power still tingled at his fingertips. This time, he had seized control. And for the first time in his life, he was done waiting for promises.

  A shift in the shadows.

  Jundra emerged from the fissure, a pale body carried over her back.

  “Well,” she said, “that bottomless hole you cracked open is way more dramatic than whatever just went down.” Her arms were folded, unimpressed. “I could just slip, fall in, and die and no one would ever know.”

  Kirom allowed himself a small smile. “Don’t forget to pray to them and ascend.”

  Jundra snorted and set the Pale One down into a sitting position. “Rumor’s right, huh? Advancement is either run by some artificial sentience, or you’re a teacher’s pet to a certain someone upstairs.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Either way. Congratutions on still having your job.” She paused. “And your Power.”

  Kirom shrugged. “Maybe, as the conspiracy goes, Advance isn’t human at all. Cold logic. I’m sure they won’t mind a bit of rebellion if it’s strategic.”

  “Funny,” she mused. “All that strategy never stopped you from offering flowers every morning for someone who’s not listening, huh?”

  Jundra continued, teasing. “Tell me, do you believe your mother actually gets those flowers, or is it all just part of the show?”

  Kirom turned and looked straight at Jundra.

  “Jundra, you think knowing my mother earns you favor?” He spoke. “It does not. Forced familiarity is not trust. Don’t confuse the two.”

  Jundra was silent. “Noted,” she conceded.

  A sharp crackle burst through the radio on Jundra’s hip.

  “Enjoying your little heart-to-heart?” Va’s voice came through.

  Jundra scowled, snatching the device. “How long have you been listening?”

  “Long enough.” A chuckle. Then her tone shifted. “Harun pulled all the Accepts back to the city. Might be temporary. Might not. Execute, your pn seemed to work.”

  Jundra sighed. “Where’s the Head?”

  “Gone AWOL,” Va responded. “Dealing with some internal mess in Kripur. Bh bh. You know the drill. So this would be the perfect time for us to move.”

  Kirom spoke before Jundra could. “Let’s meet at Mahankrmin Pass. It’s the one safe route leading directly to the South.”

  A brief pause as Va processed the words.

  “That was the pn,” she admitted. “Guess you really are an Execute after all.”

  Kirom met Jundra’s gaze, briefly, before they turned away. The Pale One sat on the cavern floor. Still silent and motionless.

  Jundra stepped toward them.

  “I’ll carry them,” she said.

  Kirom didn’t argue. He watched as she approached the body, pcing her hands carefully.

  “Fine,” he said. “But you’ll tire quickly.”

  Jundra exhaled through her nose. “I can handle it.”

  Kirom didn’t press.

  They moved. Upward. Toward the surface.

  The jungle greeted them. Thick, wet, heated, heavy with scent of soil, moss, and the promise of rain. The wind shifted through the canopy, rustling leaves in waves. Calls and sounds of unseen creatures echoed through the undergrowth.

  Jundra adjusted the weight on her shoulders. She gnced at him.

  “But really. What does this all mean to you, anyway?” Jundra asked.

  Kirom slowed slightly, gncing back at the woman beside him. The logical words already formed for him to speak them out. He could have given her the pragmatic answer. Of politics. Of the dead of dreamers and the inertia of innovators Kripur had been tolerating. But another sentence left his mouth.

  “Promises get tiring.”

  Jundra didn’t press on what it meant. Maybe she understood. May she did not.

  His gaze drifted past her, past the jungle pressing in, past the damp earth and the canopy that swallowed the sky. Kripur, the City of Grace, stripped of its spirit, left only with walls, directives, and the weight of silent surrender.

  But fire still smoldered beneath the ash.

  And he would be the one to relight it.

  They continued moving in silence.

  The sun had dipped further west. The jungle light had softened, gold bleeding into the deep greens of the canopy.

  Ahead, a woman emerged from the trees.

  Va.

  Her gaze nded on Jundra first, frowning at the pale body on her back, then shifted to Kirom. She stared at him a moment too long, almost said something. But didn’t. Instead, she smiled, greeted him, and let it pass.

  “Now what?” Jundra muttered.

  “I expected the pn to deviate, and sure enough, it did,” Va said, her focus returning to the body slung over Jundra’s back. “But never did I expect… this.”

  “If you have something more to say. Then, say it.” Jundra shot her a gre.

  “No. Nothing at all. Nothing wrong but blessings for the devoted. Hashiva-Halocha. Praise be thee,” Va mused. “Just saying you look a bit like one of those saviors who take on more than they can bear, only to colpse — crushed under their own ego.”

  Jundra grunted. It was clear she was reaching her limit, sprinting with a body on her back.

  Kirom finally spoke. “Let me.”

  Jundra narrowed her eyes. “I told you —”

  Kirom activated Power. The pale body lifted weightlessly, hovering on Jundra’s back. He flicked his hand and the body floated behind Kirom as if it had always belonged there.

  Jundra blinked. “What the actual hell.”

  Va ughed. “You’re so focused on the grand mission, you forget everything else. Basic Advance tech. Even Accepts can do it.”

  Jundra shot her a look but didn’t argue. Kirom, for his part, almost looked apologetic.

  “Now we have to wrap them up,” Kirom said. “Better to carry a huge luggage than a god.”

  Jundra exhaled, muttered under her breath, and walked ahead by herself.

  The jungle grew sparse, a path opening between the towering trees. The further they went, the more the air changed — fresher, lighter. Their destination was near.

  Va spoke as they walked. Fragments of updates, pns, unfinished threads weaving together. The tensions brewing in Kripur, Harun’s continued grip over the inner city. Nothing Kirom hadn’t known. But he listened. Absorbed. Cross-referenced it with his own knowledge, his own maps of the nd, the networks of control that y beneath it.

  He knew this terrain. Every pass, every rock. Every aqueduct, every patrol route.

  Advancement had made sure of it.

  “...We’ll be cutting and descending down through the lower ridges, bypassing the main checkpoint. Less traffic, fewer Accepts.” Va paused. “You are quiet,” she noted.

  “I’m thinking,” Kirom said.

  Jundra scoffed lightly. “About what?”

  Kirom’s gaze remained ahead.

  “The best way forward,” he said simply.

  Jundra exchanged a gnce with Va.

  Va tilted her head. “And?”

  “We don’t need to climb over the mountain through the smuggling route.” Kirom met her eyes. “The main checkpoint is faster. Safer.”

  “Because you still hold your esteemed Execute position?” Jundra asked.

  “For now,” Kirom replied.

  Va ughed softly. “Guess we really do have an in.”

  The path widened. The trees parted.

  And ahead of them, Mahankrmin Pass.

  The nd below stretched before them, unduting like waves frozen in time. The Waving Hills, as the locals called them, rolled out toward the horizon, their ridges broken by dense patches of forest and paddy fields carved into the slopes.

  At the heart of the pass y a ke, still and reflective, shimmering beneath the orange sunlight. From its waters, rusted pump lines snaked through the hills, their skeletal remains climbing toward the old reservoir deep within Kripur’s inner city, where abandoned stone channels y strangled by creeping vines.

  The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of charred wood and burning spices. Rituals. Firelight adorned with horns flickered from scattered shrines perched along the ridges. In reverence to the One Who Slithers, the eyeless, headless serpent god of the caves, forever twisting through the dark, blessing the nd with rivers, rice, and rain.

  Along the road leading downhill, a gateway loomed ahead, set between towering rock faces that formed a natural corridor.

  A weathered stone arch, yered with corroded metal reinforcements. Slow-moving carts clogged the road, carrying bundles of trade goods and sacks of rice stacked high on wooden ptforms. Vilgers from outside the barricades, traders, and traveling monks in mud-colored robes streamed in and out.

  Accepts lined the entrance. A handful cd in white, oversaw the slow, steady flow of everyone passing through.

  They did not stop every cart. Their presence was more symbolic than enforced, a reminder of whose shadow towered over even here, where Advancement had yet to fully tighten its grip.

  Va had already stepped ahead, watching the crowd, her gaze flickering from one interaction to the next. She turned slightly, speaking without looking back.

  “I’ll get cloaks,” she said. “See what people are saying. The Accepts aren’t stopping anyone outright, but something’s off.”

  Jundra nodded. “I’ll handle the baggage. Something to blend in with.”

  Kirom said nothing.

  He remained hidden at the forest’s edge, watching.

  Beyond the pass, the vilge pulsed with movement. Laughter drifted between the stalls, bargaining calls rang over the din, the slow ctter of wheels over uneven ground adding to the rhythm of trade. It was familiar. The weight of life carrying on despite it all.

  Now, Kripur y behind him. Distant.

  Harun would expin his absence, dressing it in promises of a greater future. The vilgers would panic at first, more out of habit than real concern, then settle into gossip and rumor. Mittha and Savar would love it. Maybe Yei-Gwang and Arrath might think otherwise. His Execute status remained now, but not forever.

  And the kids.

  Kirom thought back. He had hated promises his whole life.

  This time, he would be the one keeping it.

  He was even carrying one on his back.

  A ste in his pocket pulsed.

  Once. Brief.

  A directive.

  Kirom tightened his grip on the bck stone ste. He gnced toward Jundra and Va, both focused elsewhere, already slipping into motion.

  He checked it once, then slipped it back into his pocket.

  His expression didn’t change.