Page 94 of Burning Ice
“Yes, sir.”
Mirel stifled a laugh behind his hand.
Kylix pulled his shirt back on and adjusted Mirel’s collar, then pressed his lips to his temple. “Next time, I’ll keep my mind on the mission,” he said dryly.
“You won’t.”
Kylix grinned. “True. Get some rest before we go in.”
The car’s windows dimmed. City lights bled through the tint in soft gold lines. Kylix leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The hum of the engine matched their breathing until the quiet steadied.
The next morning, the city burned pale gold. The hover car hummed low as Kylix sipped his coffee, watching steam coil from the rim. Mirel yawned softly beside him, then looked down at his multi-slate as a message appeared. “Cyprian’s coming,” he said. “He’ll meet us at the hospital.”
Kylix nodded. “Good. Tell him we’ll be there soon.”
His multi-slate pinged with a new alert. He read it once, expression sharpening. Yure’s voice came through a second later, clipped and urgent. “Commander, you need to come in. We’ve cracked the stream.”
Kylix’s jaw flexed. “Change of plan. We go to the office first.”
The car banked toward the Luminary Tower. Inside, the lights were already on and voices echoed from the main hall. Kylix strode through the doors, Mirel close behind.
Kylix’s gaze flicked from guard to camera, cataloguing exits with a soldier’s precision. Every reflection in the glass walls could hide a weapon, every shadow a watcher. His hand brushed the small of Mirel’s back, protective without thought, a claim and a shield all at once.
The office buzzed with subdued energy. Rows of sleek black desks lined the glass walls, each glowing with blue holographic displays. Officers in gold-and-black uniforms typed commands into floating interfaces, their faces washed in shifting light. The air smelled faintly of synth-coffee and the sharp tang of machinery. Steam rose from cups beside stacks of reports, and quiet conversation murmured through the room until Kylix entered. Whispers cut short. Chairs straightened. A ripple of deference passed across the room, the gold insignias catching the light as people stood a little taller. Eyes followed Mirel with open curiosity, some wary, some intrigued, as if trying to understand what bound him to their commander.
The hum of concealed machinery vibrated faintly through the floor, a heartbeat beneath the order. It made Mirel uneasy, and Kylix felt it, the bond tightening in response. He shifted closer, his body angling subtly between Mirel and the nearest group of officers. One of them lingered with a stare too long, and Kylix’s eyes snapped to meet it, sharp and warning. The officer looked away at once.
Inside that silence, the weight of Kylix’s power settled like a storm waiting for release.
Yure rose from his station at the far end. “Commander, over here.”
Kylix’s tone was controlled, low. “Report.”
Yure swallowed, motioning them over. “You’ll want to see this.”
As they approached, the lights dimmed. The consoles flared alive, light rippling cold across Yure’s face. He typed a command, and the Attica stream filled the main display.
The air dropped colder. The holo shimmered and then exploded into motion, fragments of corridors, locked doors, the staccato pulse of data bleeding into sound. A heartbeat hid beneath the static.
Then the camera steadied.
A massive door filled the screen, its metal warped and scarred. The image refocused, revealing rows of cages lit by sterile white pulses. Inside, people sat huddled together on metal floors, thin and trembling, their eyes wide and hollow from the glare. One lifted a hand to the glass, pressing until it fogged from their breath. Another shifted behind her, too weak to stand, the movement slow and ghostlike under the flicker of the light.
Mirel flinched. A sound escaped him, quiet but raw. The entire office froze.
Mirel took a step closer, breath fogging the edge of the display. His voice came rough, almost unwilling. “I’ve seen him before.”
Kylix turned. “Who?”
Mirel pointed at the frozen frame, at a young man with pale-grey eyes who was staring through the glass. “Him. The frost showed me his face last night. In the kitchen. I thought it was just—” He stopped, swallowing. “It wasn’t. He’s alive. The frost didn’t make him up. It remembered him.”
The room went still again. Even the consoles seemed to pause.
Kylix’s gaze flicked from the screen to Mirel. “You’re saying the frost saw what the cameras didn’t.”
Mirel nodded once. “It’s showing us what’s hidden. Like it knows where to look.”
Kylix stepped forward, jaw tightening. “Pause it.”
