Page 104 of Burning Ice
The room dimmed again. Outside, night settled heavy and close. The storm that had threatened all day finally broke, rain streaking across the glass walls. Each flash of lightning threw their reflections into motion, a room full of ghosts staring back.
Mirel exhaled, slow. His throat felt tight, the taste of smoke still there. When Kylix touched his shoulder, the world narrowed to that single point of heat.
The monitor went dead. Heat fell out of the air.
Yure’s fingers flew. “Got it! Got it,” he breathed, half laugh, half swear. “While he was preening, a wall slipped. I’ve got a live path.”
Helianth didn’t look away from the blank screen. “Please don’t tell me it’s the warehouse grid again. Those bastards already made fools of us once.”
“They won’t do it twice,” Kylix said, voice low, the sound more growl than words. “Show me.”
Yure expanded the image, streams of light sliding across the map. “Not the factory blocks,” he said quickly. “Closer to the port. Sky pier Nineteen, north side. The feed’s clean. No loop, no static.”
Kylix watched the pattern settle, jaw tight. “They hid in plain sight. They thought I’d rush. Not this time.”
The room held still, the air thick with the echo of Bekn’s laughter.
“We don’t rush and lose them,” Kylix said finally. “We prepare.”
“Come,” he said quietly. “Enough for tonight.”
Mirel followed him through the empty corridor. Behind them, the lights flickered once and steadied. The building hummed on, pretending to be alive.
Outside, the air smelled clean again. Rain hit the pavement in hard, cold drops. Kylix’s coat brushed Mirel’s arm as they walked to the car. Neither spoke. They didn’t need to.
The city had turned black and silver under the storm, the towers flickering like old memories. For the first time since entering that room, Mirel’s breathing evened out.
When Kylix opened the car door, he paused, scanning the skyline before gesturing for Mirel to get in. His eyes caught the glow of the streetlights, ember-bright.
“He won’t touch you,” Kylix said finally. It wasn’t a promise made out of pride, but a quiet statement of fact.
Mirel nodded, climbing inside. The door closed with a soft click.
27
The message was still glowing faintly on the wall when Mirel opened his eyes.
Stay where it’s warm. Your mind is your guard when I’m not here.
The letters shone gold for a heartbeat, then dimmed, leaving only the pale outline of heat where Kylix’s hand had written them.
The room was still dim. The air held smoke and metal, the trace of him.
He had been restless last night, answering coded alerts on his slate as reports came in about Attica’s data loops. Even when he paused beside the bed, Mirel had felt the tension rolling off him.
When Kylix left, the slate light faded from the wall and left a blank square behind.
Mirel listened to the quiet for a while before getting up. It felt strange that silence could weigh more than noise.
He drank a mouthful of coffee and watched the city through the glass wall, Zephyr’s skyline half-lit, rain still threatening.Sleep had been shallow. Each time he closed his eyes, he heard Bekn’s voice in the static, saw the prisoner’s face in the cage, that flash of blue-white light. He didn’t know why it stayed with him, only that it felt wrong to forget.
He touched two fingers to the glass, trying to summon the frost. Nothing came. Still, he whispered anyway,Hold on.
Maybe whoever was trapped in that feed could hear him. Maybe Kylix could.
A knock broke the stillness. Vandor, punctual as always. His boots clicked once on the marble before he gave a brief nod, steady and reliable, the kind of presence Mirel trusted.
“You alright?”
