Page 84 of Storm of Stars
That thought echoed in my head as we approached the empty, quiet Show Center. Now nothing more than a hollow shell haunted by the lies it helped shape.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how my name would be remembered in Nexum, long after this was over. Because one way or another, itwouldbe remembered. The only question was how.
Would I be known as the Runaway who helped ignite the fire that finally burned Praxis to the ground? The one who helped drag the truth into the light and gave this fractured place a real chance at freedom?
Or would I go down as a failed rebel with too much heart and not enough foresight, a cautionary tale about what happens when you challenge a system built on blood and gold without enough force to back it up?
A reckless idealist. A tragic footnote.
I didn’t feel heroic. I didn’t feel brave.
I felt numb. Frightened.
But most of all, I felt angry.
Furious at the lies that raised me. Furious at the people still too blind or too scared to question them. Furious at the way Praxis turned pain into entertainment and called it justice. Furious that it had taken me this long to see it all clearly.
Zaffir led us around the back of the Show Center, staying close to the building’s wall with cautious steps. From the outside, the place looked abandoned, lights out, no movement in the windows, not even a whisper of sound. But none of us were willing to assume safety.
“They’ve most likely pulled my access. Veritas saw me. So be ready to break the door down,” Zaffir whispered.
When we reached the service entrance, Zaffir held up his credentials to the scanner. There was a tense second of silence before the light turned green with a soft click. The door unlocked.
We all froze.
Why hadn’t they revoked his access?
That single question passed silently between us, an electric charge snapping through the air. Praxis was many things, but careless wasn’t usually one of them. Which meant one thing.
She knew he would come back.
Zaffir’s voice dropped to a whisper as he slowly reached for the handle. “We need to be ready for the possibility that this is a trap. If they know we’re coming, they could be waiting.”
We nodded. No questions.
Briar and Thorne immediately shifted into defense mode, weapons drawn and eyes sharp. Thorne knocked an arrow. Ezra and I moved our rifles to the front, even though we both knew they were empty. But appearances mattered, especially in a place built on illusions. Maybe if we looked armed, we’d buy ourselves a few precious seconds.
Seconds we’d need if this went sideways.
I tightened my grip around the cold metal and tried to steady my breathing. My fear was a physical thing now, curled in my chest like a fist, squeezing tight. But I couldn’t let it win. I turned my head just enough to meet the eyes of the people beside me, my Wildguard, my family, and offered a silent exchange of love, of gratitude, of strength.
We had made it this far together.
And maybe, if we were lucky, this would be the place where it finally ended.
The door creaked open, and we slipped inside.
It was dark. Colder than I expected. The kind of cold that sinks into your teeth and makes your spine ache. The hallway ahead of us was narrow and stark white, but it didn’t help. The darkness still clung to everything.
When the door shut behind us, it left only a faint red glow spilling from an emergency light above the exit sign. Our footsteps were too loud in the silence. Sharp. Each one cracked against the tile like a warning shot.
It felt empty. But certainly not safe. Not by any definition of the word.
The hallway spit us out into a wide-open chamber. A sunken pit sat at the center, wrapped in terminals and black metal tables. Screens hung from the ceiling above it. Thick cables ran across the floor in every direction, pulsing with quiet electricity.
To the right, a glass-walled room was packed with gear, cameras, headsets, and who knows what else.
And so far, we didn’t see anyone else.
