The border between the Eastern Region and the Red Wasteland was not a line on a map; it was a jagged scar on the earth. As our caravan of salvaged Aegis transports and armoured trucks lurched across the salt flats, the world turned from the charred black of the Estate to a searing, rusted orange. The sun here didn’t just shine; it judged. It beat down on the metal roofs of the vehicles until the air inside was a shimmering, nauseating haze of heat and recycled oxygen.
I sat in the lead transport, my fingers tracing the edges of the mercury jar. The liquid metal inside had stopped forming maps and had settled into a rhythmic, terrifying pulse—a heartbeat for a creature that shouldn’t exist. It was a countdown I couldn't stop.
“The cooling systems are at eighty per cent and falling,” Kae
