“You know how much I love you. You know the lengths I’ll go to keep you safe. All I’m asking for is a little courage.”

  “I’m not supposed to go outside,” she whispered.

  “I think you can go anywhere you want,” he said, pressing a reassuring kiss to the top of his baby sister’s head.

  It took that embrace, that gentle gesture, for Ezra to believe it was safe. His arm held her shaking shoulders, his hand sliding along the tunnel wall as she navigated the darkness with ease. She led the way back to the entrance without trouble.

  Above them, the others’ voices carried across the surface. The sky was dark, though in the back of his mind, it always felt like dawn. He let Ezra go first, then followed, leaning against the tunnel entrance with a smile as the breeze washed over him. Laughter rose around him as he opened his eyes to find everyone staring.

  Hanna stepped forward, holding a strange device in her hand. She gave Maselli a sense of what had happened since Regilon arrived—burning rubble, broken motorcycles, and the aftermath of a brutal battle scattered across the village.

  “What do I do with this?” Maselli asked, taking the device.

  “Ren Regal said to push it when it’s safe,” Hanna reported. “I don’t know what that means.”

  Maselli examined the button carefully. “It could be a bomb,” Conrad muttered from the side, earning a chorus of groans. “What? It’s true. This could wipe us off the map.”

  “Why wait until it’s safe?” Maselli asked. “Why not drop it from above?”

  No one had an answer. Hesitating, Maselli pressed the button. The group winced—but nothing happened. Grace seemed to hold the moment, leaving only guesses as to the device’s purpose.

  Maselli already knew the answer, but other matters demanded his attention. First: how many were alive? Apart from himself, Conrad was the only male survivor… and Will, Zerah’s baby. Speaking of whom, she stood beside Anna-Lisa, Will perched over her shoulder, eyes fixed on the outside world as if searching for his demon father. The remaining children were Mark and Penny. Two others had grown cold and would not wake again. Among the older survivors were Rita and Mari. The elder of the two had cried so much she sat on the bare floor, still weeping.

  The other pressing matter: Franka and Gemma. Maselli had no way of knowing if they were truly gone or merely inconvenienced for the moment. One certainty remained: Blood Storm was dead. That he could not doubt.

  Everyone watched him, waiting for instructions, waiting to be led. Maselli should have known they would not emerge from the underground unchanged. Ideas failed him—until rushing wind swept past. He looked up, spotting the others doing the same.

  “What is that?” Hanna asked, frowning at the blinking lights approaching from the distance. Maselli tilted his chin toward the crashed aircraft in Blackwood. “We’re saved.”

  “We’re saved!” Conrad roared. “Everyone, wave your hands and scream!”

  Those who were seated stood, shouting toward the approaching firefly. Maselli and Ezra remained silent, watching, their hearts tight. Especially Ezra, her concern growing. Once the aircraft landed, they both knew the ordeal was over. She might never see him again.

  The firefly stirred up Blackwood dust as it descended, landing atop the apartment block. The doors opened, and soldiers with loaded guns observed the crowd for a moment. The cheers swelled. Blackwood residents surged forward, but a single hand signal from a soldier halted them. The doors began to close, and the firefly rose again with sudden force, circling and disappearing.

  Hanna screamed until her lungs burned, the only one to voice the frustration. Everyone else watched in stunned silence. It didn’t feel real—like even nightmares had limits. He could read the question on their faces: would they return? They wouldn’t dare land. Regilon Regal was not with them. Whatever the threat, it had killed Blood Storm. Maselli had no doubt. He did not blame the soldiers. Yet he was wise enough not to explain this to his family—they wouldn’t understand, and he didn’t expect them to.

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  “Hanna,” Conrad called sharply. “Hanna, listen!”

  “What?” she screamed. “What do you want from me? They took one look at us and left? Is that all we are to those people? After everything we’ve done for them, this is how they treat us?”

  “Listen to me! Look around you. Look at what we have! Bannermen were here not long ago. Pick up their bikes and let’s get out of Blackwood while we still can!”

  “I don’t know how to ride a bike,” said Zerah.

  “Oh, listen to this one,” Conrad snapped. “You don’t know how to ride a bike? No one taught you how to survive on your own, did they? Fine, then stay here and die!”

  Most motorcycles were damaged beyond repair. Two lay intact amid the battered Bannermen corpses. Anna-Lisa and Hanna climbed onto one, trying their best to imitate experienced riders. Hanna managed to start the engine and avoided crashing after a few shaky tries. Conrad, seated on a patch of ground, yelled instructions. He had military experience, though Maselli doubted he’d ever taught his daughter anything useful.

  Rita took over from Anna-Lisa. The rear wheel skidded, kicking dust into the air, but the motorcycle stopped safely beside the others.

  “Help me,” Conrad said to the children standing near him. He climbed in front of Rita, eyes fixed forward, refusing to consider the danger.

  “Conrad, you can’t leave like this,” Maselli called out.

  “Rita, move. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to consider anything he’ll tell us,” Conrad snapped.

  “Franka will kill you before reaching any village if the cold doesn’t kill you first,” Maselli warned.

  “Maplewood is closer than you think,” Conrad replied. “You can ask your mother. We once walked it in a full day.”

  “But that means going south,” Maselli said. “Through the forest? Do you want to risk that?”

  “Rita, go,” Conrad urged. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “He’s right about some things,” Rita said, gripping the handlebars tighter. “There’s a reason the boy is still alive.”

  Conrad’s glare deepened. He blamed Maselli alone for their delays. “What choice do we have?” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I’m not waiting around for your brother to show up again.”

  Cracks had formed on the ground—new, strange, out of place. Tracing them, Maselli followed the Ring and its two supporting pillars. Franka had destroyed the portal with his violet spell. These cracks were not inverted triangles, meaning they weren’t blockers.

  “Ezra,” Maselli called. “How can we break Franka’s spell on the Ring?”

  “Are you going to revive the Ring now, are you?” Conrad asked. “Anyone serious about surviving should follow me from here on out. Maselli, you did a lot for us down there, but this is different. There’s a time for fantasy and a time for common sense. Standing around doing nothing will cost us. Tell everyone to get on the bikes and move. If we die, we die together.”

  “I would very much like to live,” Maselli said, and the others nodded in agreement.

  Conrad scoffed. “Hanna,” he called, but she was not ready to leave. She stood beside Anna-Lisa, burdened by the impossible choice between her family and friends.

  “Hanna,” Rita called softly, heartbroken.

  “Move,” Conrad ordered. “Now.”

  “I’m not leaving our daughter behind.”

  “Mum, we’ll be right behind you if it doesn’t work, right, Maselli?” Hanna asked. Maselli nodded, though his heart screamed the truth: no, he would never go through that forest.

  “And if it does work,” Hanna continued, trying to smile for her mother, “we’ll meet at the Farm.” Her mouth quivered, her shoulders hunched under the weight of the moment.

  “Don’t be silly,” her mother replied, masking fear with firmness.

  “We don’t have enough motorcycles,” Anna-Lisa said sharply. “Stop pretending you don’t know that. I’ve counted four, and you’re on one of them. How do you expect the rest of us to leave? At least Maselli is trying to save us all. For that alone, we’ll stay behind and help him as much as we can.”

  Conrad chuckled. “Mari, any greetings for your relatives?”

  Mari said nothing, neither to Conrad nor to Rita. Rita kicked her motorcycle into gear and tore down the slope, disappearing into the forest. Maselli did not wait to see if they made it through—their survival was uncertain, and he had no time to dwell on it.

  “Maselli,” Ezra called, tugging at his shirt, “how will you get the Ring working again?”

  “I was hoping for some ideas,” he admitted.

  “I don’t have any. I think we should go back down,” Ezra said, sniffing the air and shivering. “We should return to the tunnel.”

  “Not when we’re this close,” Maselli said firmly. “The Ring may be down for good, but we can have something better. I’ll need plasma guns and two motorcycles—and everyone’s help.”

  “Maselli…” Ezra began again, but he ignored her this time, already moving forward in thought.

  “What are we building?” Hanna asked.

  “We’re building our own Ring,” he said. “And we’re going to have to do it in less than fifteen minutes.”