The Spire at 1:00 AM was a cathedral of silence.
Elias Voss stood at the window of his private office on the forty-sixth floor, looking down at the city that sprawled beneath him like a circuit board. The lights of Portmorris glittered through the fog, millions of tiny beacons marking the lives of people who would never know that a war was about to be fought in their midst. The streets were empty, the slums dark, the financial district a ghost of its daytime self. Somewhere down there, in a diner at the edge of the slums, Caleb Merrick was making his final preparations. Somewhere, a boy with a weaponized memory was memorizing floor plans. Somewhere, a woman who had once been Elias's wife was steeling herself for a confrontation that would determine the fate of everything.
And somewhere,
