The first thing Holden saw when he climbed out of the basement was the sky.
It was still black. Still choked with abyssal smoke. But the texture had changed. The furious, churning clouds had settled into something slower and thicker, like old bruised skin stretched across the heavens. The fires on the horizon had dimmed. The cannon fire had stopped.
The swarm had pulled back.
Captain Venus was waiting for them at the surface. He looked worse than before, if that was possible. The bandage on his arm had been replaced with a strip of someone else's shirt.
"They're retreating," he said. His voice was a wreck. "Pulling back to the portal perimeter. Happens every night. The fodder can't operate without the bigger ones pushing them forward, and the bigger ones go dormant after sunset. We've got maybe six hours before dawn."
"What about the foundation?" Venus asked.
