The asphalt of Neo-Seattle felt cold against my cheek, yet it was the most real cold I had felt in months. No more static electricity crawling under my skin, no more whispers of the Monarch dictating my heartbeat. I was just Elian, a twenty-four-year-old who had just gambled the sanity of all humanity on a bet called freedom.
"Elian? Oi, wake up!"
Kael’s voice broke the near-sacred silence. I felt my shoulder being shaken roughly. As I opened my eyes, Kael’s soot-covered face was right in front of me. He looked a mess. His short hair disheveled, his tactical jacket torn at the sleeve, but that sharp glint in his eyes was still there.
"I... where am I?" I muttered, trying to stand up on legs that felt like jelly.
"Still in Seattle, bro. But not the Monarch’s Seattle," Kael helped me up,
