The air in the Ash Quarter crackled with tension. Silas's enforcers formed a semicircle, their shock-lances aimed at Roric's makeshift militia. The humming weapons cast an eerie blue glow across the broken concrete and twisted metal.
"Put down your... tools," Silas said with a condescending smile. "This doesn't have to end with broken minds."
Roric didn't budge, his wrench held steady. "We're not here for a fight. Just let us access the water."
"The water?" Silas chuckled. "My dear man, you don't understand. The water isn't the prize. Control is the prize." His eyes swept over the determined but outmatched group. "And right now, I control whether your people drink or die."
Sariah stepped forward, her voice cold. "You always were a parasite, Silas. Feeding on other people's suffering."
"Ah, Sariah." His smile widened. "Still fighting lost causes, I see. Tell me, how does it feel to trade one master for another? At least the Council was honest about their tyranny."
In Memory's End, Kaelen's eyes were closed, his consciousness flowing through the city's network. He could feel the confrontation like a gathering storm. But he also felt something else—the desperate hope of thousands of citizens waiting for water, their thirst a physical ache in his mind.
"Lyssa," he said without opening his eyes. "The western sectors—they're gathering near the dry distribution points. The hope is turning to anger."
Lyssa watched him worriedly. "What can we do?"
"We show them they're not forgotten." Kaelen's voice took on a strange resonance. "I'm going to share the memory."
"The memory of what?"
"Of water."
Back in the Ash Quarter, Silas was losing patience. "Enough of this. Take them. But keep the Remnant leader alive—she knows things."
The enforcers advanced. Roric and his people braced themselves, their makeshift weapons feeling suddenly inadequate against the high-tech threat.
Then it happened.
A wave of sensation washed over everyone in the confrontation—and across the entire western sector. Not a vision, but a memory so vivid it felt real:
The cool, clean taste of pure water.
The feeling of it quenching a deep, burning thirst.
The sound of it flowing freely, abundantly.
The memory of a time before the Siphons, when water was a right, not a privilege.
The enforcers hesitated, confused by the sudden sensory overload. Roric's people stood taller, their resolve hardening as the memory reinforced their purpose.
But the real effect was in the streets. In the western sectors, people who had been waiting in despair suddenly looked up with new determination. The memory didn't quench their physical thirst, but it quenched their hopelessness.
Silas recovered first, his face twisting in rage. "The Librarian! He's interfering!" He turned to his enforcers. "Forget capturing them! Shut them down!"
The first shock-lance fired. A blue arc of energy shot toward Anya, the former scribe. But Sariah was faster, shoving her out of the way and taking the blast herself. She crumpled to the ground, her body convulsing.
"No!" Roric roared, charging forward. His wrench connected with an enforcer's helmet with a sickening crunch.
Chaos erupted.
In Memory's End, Kaelen gasped, feeling Sariah's pain echo through the network. "They're hurting them," he whispered. "I have to do something."
"Kaelen, wait!" Lyssa grabbed his arm. "You said if you showed yourself—"
"The rules have changed." His golden eyes blazed. "They're not just threatening my people—they're threatening the hope of this entire city."
He reached out through the network, but not to send another memory. This time, he targeted the Syndicate's own equipment.
The shock-lances flickered. The enforcers' comms filled with static. Their high-tech armor suddenly felt heavy, unresponsive.
"What's happening?" one of them shouted.
Silas looked toward Memory's End, understanding dawning on his face. "He's learning. Faster than we anticipated."
Roric didn't waste the opportunity. "Now! While they're confused!"
His people surged forward, no longer a ragged group of rebels but a unified force empowered by shared purpose and the Librarian's support.
But as they fought, Kaelen realized the terrible truth—he could feel the life fading from two of his people through the network. The price of their stand was being paid in blood.
The water was within reach, but the cost was already higher than anyone had imagined. And Kaelen knew, with chilling certainty, that this was only the first payment in a war that would demand much, much more.