Chapter 213: An Unexpected Visitor.
Outside, the building had come alive in jagged pulses—bursts of frantic movement crashing against pockets of brittle silence. Boots scraped concrete. Voices swelled and dropped without warning. Laughter broke out here and there, too sharp, too relieved, the sound of men finally allowed to breathe after hours of holding their lungs hostage.
Down the far corridor, CGI staff were filing out in twos and threes, shoulders rounded with exhaustion and the fragile beginnings of hope. Pauline moved among them, chin still high, posture impeccable, but her fingers betrayed her, twisting and re-twisting the strap of her bag like a lifeline.
I sat with Sinn in the near-empty reception room, the two of us islands of quiet while the world outside the doors kept rearranging itself. Overhead lights hummed like dying insects, throwing long, warped shadows across the polished tables.
"The only reason I need you," Sinn said, leaning back, "is because I don’t trust many people." His voice was low, stripped of theater. "And I trust you."
The words landed heavy between us. No flourish. Just truth, raw enough to thicken the air.
I traced the arm of my chair with my thumb, eyes on him. Across the room, Sherry appeared in the corridor. She read the scene in a heartbeat, lifted two fingers in a small, quick wave—I’ll be outside—then kept walking.
Sinn leaned forward again, elbows on his knees. "This wasn’t just my operation. Families are involved now. They’re sending people to work with me, and I’ll be expected to deliver. I need someone solid. Someone I can actually lean on."
I exhaled slowly, tasting the cold recycled air.
He was asking me to stay inside the machine. New paint on the walls, same corridors. I thought of the apartment building, two floors above Sherry, one above Carrise. A single structure in the capital that had already delivered two primordial women into easy reach. I thought of Celestine. Of Venna Belmonte somewhere in the city. Of everything the Purpose still required me to do.
Without the government, I lost the access. Without the access, I was just an outsider from the plain with a system and no cover.
"I understand what you’re asking, General," I said, meeting his gaze. "But I need time."
"Take it," he replied with a single nod.
Then something flickered across his face—discomfort, almost guilt. "One thing you should know." He held my eyes. "Bala is dead. I didn’t order it. I didn’t want it. I want you to hear that from me."
He said it like it was going to matter to my decision. Maybe it was.
"Anything else?" I asked, already shifting forward.
He shook his head. I stood. The chair legs scraped against the floor like a final period.
The primordial families had built themselves a new government—green, grateful, and aimed exactly where they needed it. Sinn stood at the head of it, convinced he was steering. The Awakening wasn’t coming in twenty-nine days. It was already being assembled, piece by piece, in plain sight.
"Think about it," he said quietly, still seated, watching me leave.
I walked out.
***
Sherry was leaning against the wall just outside, arms loosely crossed, the cool night air brushing around her. She smiled when the door opened and she saw me, though the expression didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. Her short brunette hair stirred lightly in the breeze as she pushed off the wall and stepped toward me.
"Seems like some guy from the plain is becoming pretty useful to the walls," Sherry said, leaning into me as we started walking. Her body was warm against my side.
"Nah." I slid my arm around her waist, fingers splaying across her hip. "Just an old friend from the Fallen City. He sends his greetings, by the way."
She laughed—the short, disbelieving laugh of someone who wasn’t buying a single word of it.
Around us the yard had come alive. Soldiers celebrated the new government with loose, loud voices and the sharp pop of sticks of fire launched upward, arcing bright against the dark sky before fizzling out. The man who had called Sherry a bitch earlier—the same small eyes, the same thin mustache—was spinning a lit stick above his head like he’d personally won the night.
"So what did he want?" Sherry asked, glancing sideways at me.
"Take a guess." I answered, keeping my tone light.
"We both know he’s another version of Bala," she said, then caught herself and corrected with a smirk. "A weak version."
That got me. A low chuckle escaped before I could stop it.
"Yeah." She pressed the point, clearly enjoying herself now. "The version that sprinted up the stairs and left girls down there with zombies on our backs."
"He’s a good man though," I said, still laughing, my thumb brushing slow circles against her waist.
"I’d rather work for Bala," Sherry said as we came down the steps into the buzzing yard, the night air thick with smoke and distant cheers.
"I don’t think they’re so different."
She stopped walking and looked at me. Her eyes said it before her mouth did—searching, a little disappointed.
"You’ve already decided. Haven’t you."
"Decided what?"
"To work for the new government."
"I’m still thinking about it," I said.
She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me with the quiet of someone arriving at a conclusion about who I was, filing it somewhere she’d come back to later. Her fingers tightened briefly on my arm.
Then Mercury hit us from behind, forcing herself between us with a playful shove. One arm dropped across Sherry’s shoulders, the other across mine, separating us completely.
"Where are you two love birds going?" Her voice was lighter than I expected given the night she’d had, though her eyes still carried sharp edges.
"Home," Sherry said.
"Sherry." Mercury turned her head slowly, like a revelation was arriving. "I’ve missed you so much."
"Should I drop you?" Mercury asked, half-smiling.
"We live five minutes away," Sherry and I said at exactly the same time.
"I insist," Mercury said. She laughed and untangled herself from both of us with a dramatic flourish. "You two are going to fuck tonight," she announced, loud enough for the nearest soldiers to turn their heads.
"She’s insane," Sherry whispered, leaning back into me, cheeks flushing.
"Yes," I said, glancing back over my shoulder.
"I heard that!" Mercury called after us, both middle fingers raised high.
The apartment building came into view ahead, its familiar concrete bulk cutting against the night sky. The first day of the thirty the system had given me before the Awakening, and it had been the longest day I could remember since the plain. The kind of day that fit a week’s worth of life into it and still had room left over.
"What a day," Sherry murmured as we started up the stairs, her hand finding mine again.
***
I walked down from the fourth floor after making sure Sherry was safe in her apartment, and crossed to my own door. The building was quiet now, the corridor dim and cool, the capital finally settling into whatever the night had left of itself after everything.
I opened the door into darkness.
Staggered two steps, hand groping along the wall for the switch. Found it. Clicked the light on.
Celestine Vale sat on my couch in a sleek black dress, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, leaning back like she had been there long enough to get comfortable. Her calm gaze met mine without surprise.
The day was nowhere near over.
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