Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
MAVERYK
T he hum fractures.
Not gone … changed.
It crawls through the cabin’s bones, the air turning metallic, sharp as lightning before a strike.
Melody stiffens beneath my arm, her breath catching in the hollow between my ribs. The bond still thrums between us. But its warmth has thinned—replaced by a low vibration that isn’t ours.
Outside, the wind howls wrong, too even, too precise.
Static skitters through the radio, and the hair on my arms lifts.
I know that frequency.
Sentinel code.
They’re here.
Every warning from my father washes over me, his father before that. Things I thought they spoke into legend, springing to life.
I rise, every nerve alive with warning.
Melody pulls the blanket tighter, her wide eyes catching the ghost-light flicker beyond the window.
“They can’t find us,” I whisper, already scanning for the dampener, for the one broken piece of tech that might buy us time.
The mountains answer with a rumble like a pulse beneath the earth. Whatever peace we found tonight—it’s over.
The radio crackles again, coded bursts of sound. My mind fractures, pulling away from the bond, trying to shield Melody from the rage and pain roaring through my veins.
They shouldn’t be able to follow me this far north—shouldn’t be able to find me this distance from the Starborn Range.
I feel the bond falter as I jump to my feet, hurrying into my clothes. She follows wordless, her mind layering itself with composure, the way her hands layer fabric across her body.
Another burst—white noise and binary teeth.
“Just a storm front,” she says, but her voice quivers.
No storm hums in code .
A light sweeps across the valley. Not lightning. Sustained, methodical.
The herd outside grows restless. One of the horses breaks its rope, panicked by frequencies too high for human ears.
The bracelet on Melody’s wrist glows faintly, reacting to something neither of us can name.
I kill the lantern. “Stay low.”
A hush falls—so complete it feels like the world is waiting. Then a flicker moves beyond the glass.
I crawl to the window, raise my head just enough to see.
Through the mist, movement. At first, I think it’s snow swirling in the wind—until light catches metal.
Three robot-like beings descend the ridge, their armor gleaming like falling stars. The Hollowed ones, Dad called them.
They glide instead of walk, visors pulsing with shifting glyphs. Old Wildblood text rewritten in machine logic.
Their scanning waves roll over the land, a metallic taste blooming on my tongue as they brush against my nervous system.
Deadly. Made to hunt and kill my kind. No longer the stuff of tall tales.
Melody grips my arm. “They’re not human.”
Neither am I .
The words hang between us like a truth too big for the air.
My mind roves over everything I’ve ever been told. If I can’t disrupt their lock, they’ll call down the Engine That Judges. Then, it’s over.
I glance toward the table—light threads through the boards, flickering over the empty space where the dampener should be. My stomach drops—until Melody presses the box into my hand. The bond still strong enough for her to answer my desperation.
The ancient tech doesn’t bother her. But with me, it’s agony.
Still cracked but functional enough to muffle our signal.
I force its frequency to spike. The damage ripples through my body, humming out a painful counterfrequency.
It crackles through my bones, blackens the bandage wrapped tightly around my hand.
Melody’s eyes round with horror. The Hollowed stagger, lights flickering for one moment that tastes like hope. But it isn’t enough.
I motion for Melody, crawl with her to the back door. Then, I try to push her through. “Ride hard. Don’t look back.”
But she holds steady, amber and moss eyes simmering. “Not without you.”
The bond flares—too bright, too alive. Melody’s bracelet shivers, emitting a faint harmonic counterpoint. A defense neither of us understands.
Her brow arches, defiant.
But it’s too late.
A metallic signal rises. Ancient language flattened by code.
“Unauthorized frequency. Identify.”
A Sentinel’s lock.
I push the dampener harder. My teeth hum, the device searing my palm. The cabin walls crack, an invisible pulse bursting free like an EMP. The smell of scorched flesh fills the room.
“Now, run!”
We burst into the open pasture. Lightning flashes, painting the night in violent silver as the Hollowed ones freeze, rebooting mid-stride.
I boost her onto the Palomino. “Hope you can ride bareback.”
The mare bolts. I mount Winnie, chasing her through sleet and fog.
The range sings differently now—deeper, protective. Almost maternal. Like the mountain gathers us beneath its wings.
We ride through sleet and mist. The range singing differently now, responding to us, protecting us. Almost like a mother hen gathering chicks beneath her wings.
The bond becomes our compass. Fog wraps us in white shadow, muting the world.
Each fork in the trail feels guided by a hand we can’t see. The Sentinels’ lights fade behind us, swallowed by storm and stone.
Melody glances back once, eyes finding mine through the rain. Her thoughts slide into my head…
The purges. The hunts. The families lost.
She sees Sentinel on Wildblood, locked in combat, not as myth but as memory— my genetic memory.
We drop into a ravine, disappearing as the Starborn aurora flickers overhead—its reds and purples bleeding across the clouds like the sky itself remembers what we’ve done.