Chapter 11 · free to read
Nothing has flown into Yomi's lane in nineteen years. The fleet charts it as empty space and guards it with a battle group.
The overwrite does not take things loudly. It takes them the way a tide takes a footprint — smoothly, and only from the edges, and only when you are not looking at that part of the beach.
He had run the arithmetic on the fourth day. He had not said it out loud, because she would have made the same decision anyway and then he would have had to watch her make it.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.