The world exploded to the south.
One minute, the dark was just dark. The next, the whole horizon blew up in a dirty orange fireball that made my eyes water. The sound hit us a second later—a deep, thudding boom that I felt in my teeth. Then more explosions, smaller ones, popping like fireworks.
Kenji pulled his goggles down. “That’s our cue.”
We were already running. Four white blurs against the white ground, sprinting like hell away from the fire and toward the north ridge. The plan was hanging by a thread: while every camera and soldier stared at the giant fire at the airport, we’d sneak in the back door. A crack in the ice Borealis remembered.
We hit the glacier’s edge, lungs burning. The cold air tore at my throat. In front of us was a split in the world—a deep, black crack in the
