Chapter 128: Departure
In the morning I go to Boris to collect what’s mine.
The city is already up. People rebuilding walls, dragging beams, hauling stone. Thirty-two dead in the last attack—the worst in years, from what I heard leaving the inn. The faces on the street aren’t grieving. They’re working. Grief is a luxury for people with time.
At the command post, Boris is already behind his desk. Giving orders to two officers. Studying an open map with small wooden soldier figurines scattered across it. Probably a strategy for the reconstruction.
"Problems?" I ask.
"The structural damage was worse than the casualties, but we’ll rebuild. We’ll manage." He scratches his chin, smoothing the beard down. "You’re here for your money, aren’t you?"
I nod.
"Take it and get out. I’ve got work to do."
Short and blunt. Visibly annoyed at my greed. Or at least performing annoyance. I know which one it is.
On the table, off to the side, a stack of discs. Metallic glass, translucent green, about the size of old Earth CDs.
Scale Plates...
18 Plates. 1800 Shards. 180,000 Scales.
My brain makes the conversion fast.
Rhayne lets out a quiet "oh..." behind me. Genuine shock. For a low-rank newcomer, this amount is like watching a miracle materialize on a desk.
"That’s it? You’ve been fighting here for years and this is all you’ve got?"
"You really want to bleed us dry? We still need Scales for machinery and general ops, even if we don’t trade them."
Fair point. But it didn’t cost me anything to ask.
"And why are you so irritated?"
I already know why. But I’m poking the bear on purpose. He knows I’m leaving. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. I’m the link between him and his old friend.
Boris stands up from behind the desk. Takes a long, deep breath, head down, eyes closed, his arms bracing his weight on the edge of the table.
"Not even going to say goodbye?" I push a little more.
Boris comes around the desk and walks toward me. I extend my hand.
He ignores the hand. Grabs me. A full embrace—hard, tight, rib-crushing, unapologetic.
I hug back. Three pats on the back. Then I pull free.
"Take care of yourself, kid. I hope you and your squad find a way out. Like your father did."
"You too. Don’t give up. We’ll see each other in Azure someday."
Boris is already turning away, one hand raised above his head as he walks back to the desk. "Jacob’s waiting for you."
"Uncle Boris reminds me of the teddy bear I lost at the tower..." Lola says, her head down.
I leave forty Leviathan Beads on the table for Boris and turn to Lola.
I crouch in front of her. Smooth a strand of hair behind her ear.
"What about I give you money and you buy another one?" I offer a smile.
"I like it." She answers, rubbing her eye.
I notice something I’ve been trying not to notice. These two girls are changing something inside me that I didn’t want changed. Something I walled off a long time ago and bricked over with purpose and pragmatism and the comfortable lie that caring is a liability in Thirstfall.
It’s being changed anyway.
I stand up and distribute the Plates.
Two for Oliver. Two for Rhayne. Two for Lola. Twelve stay with me.
Rhayne’s hands tremble as she receives hers. Her mouth is visibly watering—her body reading the Plates as raw OXI, the hunger reflex firing before her brain can override it. I catch her eye.
"Don’t..."
She swallows. Nods. Stores them.
Lola pockets hers with a smile, like she just received a new toy and not a small fortune. She holds one of the Plates up to the firelight for a second, watching the green refract, then shrugs and drops it into her inventory.
"This is more than I’ve ever earned in my entire life," Oliver says. Quiet. Humble. He holds the Plates like they might break if he grips too hard. His eyes are wet at the edges but he doesn’t let it go further than that.
"Let’s move. We need fresh Ferredons."
We head for the stable.
Jacob greets us with his half-grin. He’s been expecting us.
Lola takes off running the second she sees the animals.
"Little buddy!" She throws her arms around the neck of a Ferredon at the far end of the row.
The animal turns its ferret-like head and presses its snout against her cheek.
"I... we..." I lose the words, pointing between Lola and the Ferredon she picked.
"Yeah. Those are your mounts. They always come back to the stable if they aren’t hurt."
"And...?"
"And yes, that one’s hers. Hard to believe she knows, considering she’s only ridden him three times." Jacob shakes his head. "Animals know their people."
"She’s special," Rhayne says. Her voice soft. Almost tender.
"I’ve saddled all four. You can go whenever you’re ready. I hope you find a way out, Sands." Jacob pauses. "Thank you for helping us through the tides."
The weight of his words drops on me like a brick.
Thirty-two dead. Thirty-two people who would be alive right now if I hadn’t gone to the tower and triggered the Chaos Theory acceleration.
Jacob is thanking me for helping fight a disaster I caused. He doesn’t know that. He might never know that. And I’m not going to tell him, because it wouldn’t bring any of them back and it would take the one thing he has left—the belief that we helped.
I just nod.
"When you reach the tower, whistle twice and clap once. They’ll come home on their own." He runs a hand down one of the Ferredon’s necks. "They always do."
I mount up. The squad mounts. Lola is still whispering something to her Ferredon, the animal tilting its head as if it understands every word.
We ride toward the tower. This time, with no plans to come back.
As we passed through the gate, Elisser’s raspy voice drifted down from atop the ramparts right behind us. "Give your father my regards, and don’t you go forgetting about us... kid."
I turned back and gave a wave. "Thanks for everything," I called out one last time, silently hoping I’d never have a reason to return.
After trekking through the wastes for a while, we reached the Tower. The desert was weirdly still, as if the monsters that prowled it had simply vanished.
I watch my breath bloom into a white, frosty cloud.
White mist is coming...
The temperature began to plummet again.
I didn’t waste a second before scouting for the nearest inselberg.
Found it.
Half a mile... maybe a little more.
"Move it, everyone!" I barked.
Now, it was a race to see who would reach the inselberg first—us, or the white mist.