THE OPEN FIELD - FIVE MILES FROM THE CAPITAL - NOON
Five thousand soldiers spread across the horizon.
Armored. ARMED. Battle-ready. Banners of twenty different FACTIONS united by one purpose: destroy democracy. Restore ORDER. Control.
Grove loyalists in white robes. Consortium remnants in dark armor. Monarchist soldiers in royal COLORS. Mercenaries in EVERYTHING else.
And facing them—THREE people.
Me. Sera. My father.
Walking across open ground. UNARMED. Unprotected. INSANE.
"This is SUICIDE," my father muttered.
"Probably," I agreed.
"You people are TERRIBLE at self-preservation."
"Family TRAIT. You LITERALLY killed yourself across multiple timelines."
"Fair point."
Sera walked between us. CALM. Silver eyes scanning the army. Not with FEAR. With UNDERSTANDING.
"I can feel them," she whispered. "Every soldier. Their EMOTIONS. Their fears. Their MOTIVATIONS. They're not evil, Kieran. They're SCARED."
"Scared of WHAT?"
