Caelum’s POV
The air inside the lower foundry was a suffocating soup of coal-dust and recycled steam – a hellscape of hissing valves and grinding gears that had been my prison for months. I wiped a streak of grease from my forehead, my eyes fixed on the primary turbine. The shadow-ink that ran beneath the skin of my forearm, usually a constant, throbbing reminder of Kaelin’s leash, felt sluggish today. It pulsed with a weak, frantic rhythm, reacting to the distant, harmonic hum that had been rolling off the mountain since the Alpha claimed the Trinity Spark.
I stood in the shadows of the secondary cooling-vent, waiting. My men were scattered throughout the lower deck, their hands hovering near their hidden blades, watching the iron-clad Enforcers pace the catwalks above.
Then, the signa
