The helipad was no longer a piece of architecture; it had become a sacrificial altar of light and glass. I was suspended three feet off the cracked concrete, my body a conduit for a power that was never meant to be housed in flesh and bone. The silver fire wasn't just a glow anymore—it was a roaring, physical force that distorted the air around me, making the skyscrapers of Aethelgard look like they were melting in a summer heatwave.
“Now!” I screamed, the word tearing at my throat.
Leo and Liam didn't hesitate. My sons, the bridge between the Architects’ cold logic and our burning blood, stepped into the centre of the storm. They didn't use their hands to fight; they joined them, their small fingers interlocking as they turned their gaze toward the massive, mercury-hulled ship. They d
