Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
ASH
The hum fractures.
Not gone… changed.
It crawls through the cabin’s bones, the air turning metallic, sharp as lightning before a strike.
Josephine 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.
A pattern hides in the noise. Three pulses. Pause. Two more.
My stomach drops. I know the frequency without ever hearing it before. From the ones who came before me.
Sentinel code.
Every warning from Mags washes over me. Things I thought were legend, springing to life.
I rise, my nerves alive with warning.
Josephine 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 Josephine from the rage and fear 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. Where the air thins and the ground branches with mineral veins.
I feel the bond falter as I jump to my feet, hurrying into my clothes. She follows wordlessly, 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.
The herd outside grows restless. One of the horses darts past the window. Must’ve broke through the paddock, panicked by frequencies too high for human ears. They invade my skull.
I strain against them, a new kind of headache, killing the lantern. “Stay low.”
A hush falls—so complete it feels like the world is waiting. Then another flicker moves beyond the glass.
I crawl to the window, raising my head just enough to see.
Through the mist, I find movement.
At first, I think it’s rain swirling in the wind—until light catches metal.
A swarm of shiny insects. Their wings shimmer like beetle shells, catching lightning in impossible colors.
I blink slow, eyes narrowing.
Only they’re too uniform. And their wings beat too perfectly, each motion identical.
Not human tech. Sentinel.
Their scanning waves roll over the land, a metallic taste blooming on my tongue as they brush against my nervous system.
Josephine grips my arm. “What are they?”
Fear crashes—then doubles back. I don’t know where mine ends and hers begins.
“We should hide,” she whispers, gaze still fixed on the hovering device beyond the glass.
Logic tries to pierce through. Tell me it’s only observing.
But even that feels too clinical and calculated. Perhaps even lethal.
I motion for Josephine, crawling with her to the back door. Then, I try to push her through. “Ride hard. Don’t look back.”
I’ll distract them, give her a chance to escape.
But she holds steady, amber and moss eyes simmering. “Not without you.”
The bond flares—too bright, too alive.
I slam a wall down between our minds—clumsy and incomplete—but enough to dull the panic roaring through us.
Her brow arches, defiant.
Her hand grips mine. “We go together.”
I let out a long, low sigh, watching a thin, pale light sweep across the pasture.
The moment it touches the cabin wall, the hum inside my bones spikes.
It’s trying to lock on.
“Ash…” she whispers. “Those things aren’t natural. And they’re not searching randomly. They’re mapping.”
My jaw tightens. “Scanning.”
They sync now behind the glass. The thin beams multiply until they form a grid.
My throat tightens. A weapon targeting system, perhaps?
The room goes dark.
Nothing.
Then I hear it. Tiny taps, like a centipede walking on glass.
Josephine’s eyes are dinner plates.
A flash of white light snaps across the window frame.
It shatters inward as if struck by a focused pulse, glass raining down. The hum becomes a roar.
Terror slices through me, reverberating. Fear of losing Josephine. Her fear of losing me… and the disorienting sensation that nothing makes sense anymore.
I try to control my breathing. Separate our thoughts. I’ve never felt so out of control.
“Go now!” I scream.
She springs forward, and I follow.
We burst into the open pasture. Lightning flashes, painting the night in violent silver.
Metal clicks behind us, like noisy dragonflies. Humming and clicking, then going silent.
Even eerier.
Because I can still feel them. Even when the hum dies.
We head for the paddock, and they come to life again. Clicking and whirring like mechanical cicadas, their pursuit furious.
More advanced than I ever imagined. Made to blend in—almost.
Ice floods my veins. Her eyes find mine, stricken.
“No time to waste,” I grunt, boosting her onto the Palomino. “Hope you can ride bareback.”
“Of course,” she hisses.
The mare bolts. I mount Winnie, chasing her through rain and fog.
The range sings differently now—deeper, protective. Almost maternal. Like the mountain gathers us beneath its wings.
We ride through rain and low clouds. 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 Sentinel drones hum behind us, swallowed by storm and stone.
Josephine glances back once, eyes finding me through the rain. Relief washes over me.
I nudge forward, bringing my horse next to hers. Leading.
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.