Chapter 28: Fires in the Sky
Westeria was waiting.
Not the Westeria Adrian had left—the one that had burned behind him when he fled to Haven. This was a different Westeria. Smaller. Meaner. The kind of nation that had been carved from the corpse of an empire and was still learning how to breathe.
Lira stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the city below.
"So this is where you're from," she said.
Adrian stood beside her. No mask. No halo. Just his face—young, tired, older than it should be.
"Part of it," he said. "The part that didn't burn."
"Will they recognize you?"
"Some of them. The ones who remember."
"And the ones who don't?"
Adrian looked at the city.
"They'll learn."
Havoc Halstrom's estate sat on a hill overlooking the sea.
White walls. Iron gates. Gardens that had been sculpted by hands that had never known labor.
Juran stood in the shadows of the gate, watching.
"He's inside," he said. "He's been inside for three weeks. Ever since Adeus fell. Ever since Kuiji burned."
"He's scared," Lira said.
Juran's eyes didn't move.
"Yes."
"Good."
She walked toward the gate.
The guards saw her coming.
"Stop. This is private property—"
Swoosh.
Thud.
Swoosh.
Thud.
They fell. Not dead. Aryan's rule. Lira had learned it by now.
She walked through the gate.
The garden was quiet.
Too quiet. The birds had fled. The wind had stopped. Even the sea seemed to hold its breath.
Havoc was waiting on the terrace.
He was shorter than Lira had expected. Older. His hair was white. His face was lined. His eyes were the color of the sea—grey, cold, endless.
"The half-breed," he said. "I was wondering when you'd come."
Lira stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
"You knew Adeus. You knew Kuiji. You knew what they were doing."
"Yes."
"You did nothing."
Havoc smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.
"I did everything. I funded them. I protected them. I cleaned their records when the bodies piled too high."
He stepped down.
"I am not sorry, child. I am not ashamed. I am pragmatic."
Lira's hand tightened on her lance.
"The slaves—"
"Are currency. Nothing more. Nothing less." He stopped two steps above her. "You think I care about their suffering? I care about profit. And the Hidden Eye has been very, very profitable."
"Not anymore."
"No." Havoc's smile faded. "Not anymore."
He reached into his coat.
Swoosh.
Lira's lance was at his throat before his hand cleared the fabric.
"One move," she said. "One twitch. And you join Adeus and Kuiji in the ash."
Havoc looked at the lance.
Then he looked at her.
"You won't kill me."
"Try me."
"You're not a killer, child. You're a liberator. There's a difference."
Lira's hand did not shake.
"There's no difference when the person deserves it."
For a long moment, Havoc said nothing.
Then he laughed.
"Juran," he called. "I know you're there. Come out. Let me see the face of the man who sold his soul to a child."
Juran stepped out of the shadow.
His face was stone. His eyes were fire.
"You murdered my family," he said.
"I ordered it. There's a difference."
"You gave the order."
"Yes."
Juran drew his blade.
"Then you die."
The fight was short.
Havoc was not a warrior. He was a politician. His hands were soft. His blade was for show.
Juran's blade was not.
Swoosh.
Clang.
Swoosh.
Thud.
Havoc fell.
His blood stained the white stone.
Juran stood over him, breathing hard.
"It's done," he said.
Lira looked at the body.
"One more," she said.
Juran shook his head.
"No. The Hidden Eye is finished. Without Havoc, without Adeus, without Kuiji—there's nothing left."
"Ino—"
"Ino was always the smallest. He'll bend. He already has."
Lira looked at the sea.
The sun was setting. The water was gold.
"What now?" she asked.
Juran didn't answer.
He was looking at the sky.
The sky was changing.
Not the sunset. Something else. Something wrong.
The clouds were parting
It was the future.