Chapter 10
The air outside hit like a slap of cold water—fierce, biting, clean.
For a fleeting moment, the rush of wind and the sight of the stars overhead felt like salvation.
We had made it out.
The cave mouth gaped behind us, a jagged wound in the mountain, now half-collapsed, plumes of dust still curling upward where the stone continued to settle. The sky stretched endless and dark above the treetops, the moon just a thin sliver of pale light.
I drew a deep breath, letting the cold burn through my lungs. The snow underfoot glittered in the moonlight, a perfect stillness after the chaos below. I turned to Con, the weight of the artifact still heavy in my hand.
“We should move—”
The word died on my tongue.
A sound cut through the quiet—soft at first, like the hiss of disturbed snow. Then another. A metallic click.
Con’s head snapped toward the tree line. “Down.”
I dropped just as gunfire erupted. Muzzle flashes flared in the darkness, the echo of the shots rolling across the mountain like thunder. Bullets tore through the air, ricocheting off the rocks where we’d stood a heartbeat earlier.
Enhanced humans.
Their movements were too coordinated, too fast for ordinary soldiers. Seven figures emerged from the shadows of the pines, dressed in matte-black combat gear, their visors gleaming red. The shimmer of circuitry pulsed beneath the skin of their necks—augmentation lines.
I tried to summon my magic, but the well inside me was dry—burned out from the temple. The pulse of the artifact in my hand only made it worse, draining what little I had left. My veins felt like fire and frost all at once.
“Cass—move!” Con barked, already in motion.
He blurred forward, closing the distance between us and the attackers in a single, fluid leap. His curved blade flashed in the moonlight—a streak of silver death. The first man didn’t even have time to fire before Con’s blade found his throat. Blood sprayed in a dark arc against the snow.
Another swung a rifle toward him, but Con was faster. He twisted low, the blade cutting through the man’s legs, then came up with a brutal backhand that sent him crashing into a tree. Bones cracked audibly.
The third tried to flank him—bad mistake. Con caught him by the vest, slammed him into the rock wall, and drove the knife home just beneath the ribcage. The man convulsed, then went still.
Three down in seconds.
The rest moved like predators, fanning out in perfect formation. I pulled my daggers free after securing the artifact to my belt, and met the nearest one head-on. My body screamed in protest, still half-drained, but muscle memory took over.
He swung at me with a reinforced baton, the strike fast and precise.
I ducked, caught his wrist, twisted hard until the joint popped, and drove my elbow into his jaw.
He staggered, mechanical implants sparking at his temple.
I spun, bringing my dagger across his throat.
The blade bit deep, spraying warmth against the snow.
Pain flared along my side, a glancing hit from a rifle butt. I turned quickly, slashing upward, catching the man’s forearm. He hissed, cybernetic servos sparking as he stumbled back.
Across the clearing, Con moved through the chaos like a storm.
Every strike was merciless. He didn’t dodge—he advanced.
One of the humans lunged with an electrified knife, but Con caught the man’s wrist mid-thrust, twisted until bone cracked, and used his momentum to drive the knife into another’s chest.
The air stank of blood, sweat, and burned circuitry. The snow beneath us had gone from white to rust-red in patches, melting from the heat of bodies and weapon fire.
But for every one we dropped, another closed in. Seven had felt manageable at first, but the remaining attackers were disciplined with augmented speed, reinforced bones, and enhanced reflexes. I could barely keep up.
One caught me by the arm, wrenching hard enough that pain lanced through my shoulder. I pivoted, slammed my dagger into his thigh, then kicked free, but my balance faltered. The edges of my vision swam—my magic screaming uselessly inside me, too raw to draw on.
Con saw it. His snarl split the night.
He was on them before they could press the advantage—blade in one hand, the other snapping a neck with a sound like breaking ice.
The last man fired point-blank; Con turned, letting the bullet graze his upper arm rather than my skull, the impact jerking his shoulder back.
A dark streak bloomed across his sleeve, but he didn’t so much as flinch.
He drove his weapon straight through the man’s chest.
The forest went still again. Only the sound of the wind remained—low, mournful, whispering through the trees.
I sank to one knee, chest heaving. The snow beneath me was splattered with blood—some theirs, some mine. I pressed a hand to my ribs, wincing. “They knew we were coming.”
Con wiped his blade clean on one of the fallen soldiers’ coats, his breathing steady but eyes filled with fury. “They shouldn’t have.”
I looked up at him—his face lit by moonlight, streaked with blood that wasn’t his own, his expression carved from ice and fire. He wasn’t even winded. But beneath that deadly calm, I saw it—the flicker of something raw. Fear. Not for himself.
For me.
“I told you,” I managed between breaths, forcing a crooked smile. “You can’t keep saving me.”
He looked at me, his jaw tightening. “I’ll stop when you stop trying to die.”
The retort on my tongue faded as the wind shifted, carrying the smell of smoke and metal from below.
I followed his gaze toward the valley, where the lights of Quebec flickered in the distance. Somewhere down there, the network Julian had warned us about was already moving.
Con sheathed his blade, the motion smooth and final. “We can’t stay here,” he said quietly. “They’ll send more.”
I nodded, pulling the artifact from my pocket. Its golden glow pulsed once, almost like a heartbeat, and the forest seemed to hold its breath around us.
The temple was gone. The humans were dead.
But the real danger was just beginning, so I clipped the fragment to my belt.
The snow had barely begun to settle over the blood when I heard it—boots pounding, the crack of branches snapping under heavy weight. Shouts cut through the stillness, followed by the high, thin whine of powered augments spooling up.
They were back.
“Con—” I started, but he was already turning, blade flashing into his hand, eyes molten gold in the dark.
Shapes burst from the tree line—seven, moving fast, disciplined, their armor gleaming in the moonlight. Enhanced humans, but heavier-built than the first wave—military-grade augments glinting beneath their skin. They’d been tracking us.
Three of them broke formation and rushed me before I could draw breath.
I spun, daggers flashing, meeting the first strike midair.
Metal rang against metal, the impact jarring up my arms. I parried, twisted, then dragged my blade across his throat.
He staggered but didn’t fall—the wound began sealing in seconds, nanites glittering like dust beneath his skin as they swarmed to repair the damage.
“Regenerative implants,” I hissed, ducking as a baton came for my ribs. The second man moved fast, too fast. His eyes glowed red beneath his visor, every motion surgically efficient.
The first strike caught my shoulder; the second, my knee. Pain flared. I dropped low, swept his legs out, and slammed my dagger through the seam in his armor before he could recover. The metallic hiss that followed was half scream, half short-circuit.
Another came from behind—I barely caught him in time, twisting so his blade cut through my jacket instead of my spine. I drove my elbow into his face, grabbed his arm, and plunged his own knife into his gut. Sparks flared where steel met synthetic muscle.
But I was slowing. My pulse thundered in my ears, my lungs burned, and every movement dragged fire through my limbs. I had nothing left magically—every reserve burned out in the temple.
Across the clearing, Con was a blur of black and gold fury.
Four men had him surrounded, but he moved through them like a storm unleashed.
The curved blade flashed under the moonlight—each movement clean, efficient, devastating.
One went down with his throat torn open, another with his chest crushed beneath Con’s boot.
Then one of them got smart.
An augmented soldier feinted high, drawing Con’s guard, while another dropped low on his blind side, driving an electrified baton into his already-injured shoulder.
The crack of impact split the night. The current arced through him in a spray of blue, the smell of burned fabric and skin hitting a second later.
Con staggered—actually staggered—his arm jerking uselessly for a heartbeat as the muscles seized. The man pressed the advantage, shoving the baton in deeper.
“Con!”
He roared, a raw, animal sound, and forced his body to move through the pain.
His free hand shot out, fingers closing around the attacker’s throat.
With a brutal twist, he snapped the man’s neck, ripping the baton free and hurling it aside.
Blood seeped through the shredded fabric of his shoulder, dark and thick, soaking down his arm.
He didn’t stop. But I saw the way his stance shifted—just a fraction more weight on his uninjured side, his left arm held a little closer, his movements tighter to conserve strength.
Even he couldn’t hold against this many forever. They were too fast, too coordinated. For every one he cut down, another pressed in.
I turned just in time to see one of the augmented soldiers break off from the fight and make a beeline for me. He didn’t attack—he went straight for the artifact.
The piece had fallen from my belt during the struggle, casting eerie light across the snow. The soldier dove for it, scooped it up, and sprinted for the trees.
“Con!” I shouted, parrying another blow. “They may be after the artifact!”