“Fuck you,” she said. Uncharacteristically vulgar, blunt, with a minimum of pride or herself in the line.

I didn’t really have a response to it, either.

“You just want me to cave, so she comes out.”

“She went out peacefully, proudly, in a damn cool way—” I started.

Legend’s beam rocked the room. There was a squeal that followed, even though the laser was silent. My head rang, and I pressed a hand to my temple.

“—and I have little interest in disturbing her.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Will you let me help you? Please?”

She scowled, and shook her head.

I took off. Leaving her behind. Flying toward the Endbringer, who was getting her bearings, smashing Relay from Foresight.

I could understand it. The terror. The panic. The fear of losing herself. She was a personality that flowed from a singular source, and when she and Ashley had been alive, they’d shared memories and dreams. The information they’d provided had helped the Wardens get an inkling of how the dream space worked, the crystal landscape, and the agents’ place in all of it.

It was just so fucking tragic that she stood at that crossroads and took this road.

I flew past Sveta, who had pulled herself back and was pulling herself back together, and reached the edge of the Wardens’ defensive line.

The impossible whirlwind of telekinetically flung objects was starting up again. She was blocking more of what we were putting out. Her chest gaped open, the laser had flensed away flesh, revealing more of the feather-lattice across her arm and upper body, half of her face was damaged, revealing bone like dark, tarnished silver, and her wings were, by contrast, mostly intact.

Byron created a crag of stone, shoring up a pillar. The mist expanded out, flowing in a cross-ways direction, and the Simurgh moved some of the mist, partially shaping it. It caught a laser.

“Hit the wing!” Narwhal called out. “You know the weak points!”

“Where do you need me?” I asked.

Chevalier turned his helmet toward me. He had shrunk his blade, and was sliding ammunition into the chambers.

“Which one of you?” he asked.

“You see her?” I asked.

He nodded. “Like you, but made of light, smiling as much as you’re not.”

“Either one of us is available,” I said.

“Protect us for now. She keeps—”

Debris was hurled our way. Narwhal raised a forcefield, and I floated up and out, to shield the crowd.

“Just like that,” he said. He turned to others, and began barking orders. “Vista, get us on target! The rest of you, if you can go on the offense, we need it now! Let the roof fall, if you have to!”

Byron obeyed. Following the order, changing where he was putting the constellations.

With that reaction, I knew, he wasn’t coming back to Breakthrough. Already, he was a part of the Wardens’ apparatus.

Good.