Chapter 9 · free to read
The raid-breath. One chant, unbroken, from the moment you cross until the moment you are back. Older than the federation. Older than the rules.
Lungs of iron, they had called him in the village. Iron cracks quietly and all at once.
Twenty-eight seconds. He had not been under thirty since he was nineteen.
It was the first time in four years that he had said anything to Arjan Gill that was not an instruction.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.