Chapter 41: Matters To His Own Hands
Their voices disappeared as Hope was carried down the tower, the only sound being the memories whispering in his ear and the man's steps echoing off the cold walls.
The conversation kept replaying like a looped record in his head from the beginning of their meeting to when he left.
Convoy. Cargo. People. Arks. Quadrant III. Ambush...
A lot of new questions resurfaced.
But Hope should not be focused on that now. Nor should he tease them.
What was important was his next course of action.
However, several footsteps echoed somewhere below them like soft stifled claps in the somber space.
'Ah. The cohort is here.'
Hope never imagined actually meeting them. Although not properly anyway. And yet here they were in the same room, no longer high up in the distant cliffs and him below, or separated by many buildings in between, but mere steps away.
A smaller aura in comparison to the Master's pulsed in the air, its presence growing closer and closer.
Until-