"Down," the guard barked.
Rough hands shoved Luke forward. His knees slammed into cold metal. Gravel scraped his palms through the cuffs.
"Down!" the voice repeated, and the three of them—Luke, Elias, Reina—knelt side by side. Silo was somewhere behind them, still muttering under his breath, chains clinking with every move.
The air was different here. Open. Thin.
Luke could feel it on his skin—the first brush of wind that wasn't filtered or recycled through vents. It carried a chill, dry and sharp, filled with scents he couldn't name. The hum of engines and pipes was gone. The silence was enormous.
Then—
The sacks were ripped away.
Light flooded in, pure and merciless.
Luke flinched, squinting as his eyes adjusted. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. The world stretched before him in impossible scale—vast skies painted in shifting gold and blue, clouds drifting like slow, endless ghosts. The horizon curved forever.
The sky.
No pipes. No ceilings. No limits. Just air and light.
Elias fell silent beside him, mouth slightly open. Reina's breath caught—half wonder, half disbelief. Even Silo, who had never stopped talking since the transport, whispered softly, "So that's what it looks like…"
They were standing—no, kneeling—on the top of an enormous metal wall, wide as a city street. Behind them, the faint hum of a lift platform. Ahead, the world beyond the Crown: the Surface.
It wasn't what they'd imagined.
Below the wall stretched a wasteland of fractured earth and skeletal remains of old structures, half-buried under sand and vines. The air shimmered faintly with heat. In the distance, something glowed faintly blue—a lake, or maybe the reflection of dying energy fields.
Luke swallowed hard, his throat dry. "We're… outside," he whispered.
Elias nodded slowly, still staring at the horizon. "It's… huge."
The guards stood in a row behind them, rifles gleaming in the light. Their armor was heavier than the mid-city patrols—polished, reinforced. Each bore the symbol of the Nova's Crown on their chestplates.
One of them stepped forward—a tall man with a dark coat draped over his shoulders and a datapad in hand. His voice carried easily over the wind.
"By decree of His Radiance, the Nova," he began, "those present have been charged with transgressions against the Crown, deceit, and disruption of sacred order."
The words echoed across the empty sky.
Luke's stomach turned. "What?"
Elias looked at the others, confused. "Wait—there's some mistake! We didn't—"
The officer ignored him, reading on:
"Punishment: by exile or death, as deemed fit by His Radiance's command. The record of this judgment shall remain sealed to all but the royal court. The people of the Undercity will be informed that the subjects perished due to injuries sustained in the Grand Tournament."
Reina's head snapped up, eyes blazing. "This is madness! We served under—"
A rifle butt slammed into her shoulder, cutting her off. She grunted, pain flashing across her face.
Elias twisted against his cuffs. "Hey! You can't—"
Another guard leveled his weapon at his chest. "Quiet."
The officer lowered the datapad, folding his hands behind his back. His voice was calm, almost bored. "His Radiance has no further interest in you. Be grateful you were granted air enough to see his sky before punishment."
Luke's mind reeled. The Nova? The same man who'd smiled at them? Promised reward? He tried to process it, but it didn't fit. It didn't make sense.
Elias spoke first, his voice cracking. "He—he just talked to us! Yesterday! You can't possibly— Look, reach out to him, tell him who we are!"
The officer regarded him coolly. "We have no authority to question His Radiance's decree."
Elias's tone rose. "You're making a mistake!"
The officer's eyes glinted with faint amusement. "We don't make mistakes. We follow orders."
He gestured toward the edge of the wall. The guards moved instantly, forming a line. The rifles' barrels gleamed under the sunlight.
"Prepare for judgment."
Luke felt the wind against his face, stronger now, tugging at his hair and clothes. He looked over the edge—down into an abyss that seemed to stretch forever. The drop wasn't clean; jagged debris and rusted girders jutted out from the wall's surface, but below that—only air and the distant shimmer of the barren surface.
His hands trembled. "You're going to throw us off," he said quietly.
One of the guards smirked beneath his visor. "It's quicker that way."
Reina clenched her fists. "You're cowards."
The officer raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. But alive."
Elias's voice cracked. "Please. Just—just ask him. He'd—he'd listen if you—"
The officer sighed, as if bored of the pleading. "Enough."
He nodded to one of the guards — a younger man, eyes sharp with cruel curiosity. "You," the officer said. "You enjoy this sort of thing, don't you?"
The young guard grinned. "Yes, sir."
He stepped forward, lowering his rifle. "Guns make it too clean."
Elias tensed, realizing what he meant. "Wait—"
The guard paced slowly in front of them, examining each face as if deciding which to start with. His boots clinked against the metal deck, echoing in the hollow air.
He stopped before Luke. "You first."
Luke stared back, jaw set. He wasn't going to beg.
The guard tilted his head. "Brave. I like that." Then, almost gently, he said, "Stand."
Luke hesitated. A shove from behind forced him to his feet. The wind howled louder now, tugging at his clothes.
"Any last words?" the guard asked, almost playfully.
Luke's throat tightened. He looked once toward Elias—who shook his head slowly, face pale but steady—and once toward Reina, who was glaring daggers through her restraints.
"Yeah," Luke muttered. "The sky's not as pretty as I thought it'd be."
The guard chuckled softly. "You'll get used to it."
Then he planted a boot against Luke's chest and kicked.
The world tilted.
Air roared past him, tearing the scream from his throat. The sky spun, blue and endless. For a split second, he thought he saw Elias lunging, shouting his name.
Then Luke vanished into the void.
"Luke!" Elias yelled, struggling against his bonds. His voice broke as two guards pinned him down.
"Now you," the guard said cheerfully, turning to him.
Elias spat at his feet. "Do it."
The guard grinned wider. "With pleasure."
He stepped forward, grabbed Elias by the collar, and with a swift motion, kicked him backward off the edge.
Elias's last sight was the clouds above—bright, burning—and then nothing but wind.
Reina screamed their names, thrashing against her chains. "You bastards! They're just—"
The guard grabbed her by the arm. "You'll see them soon enough."