Below the gates, the world dissolved into fire and iron. Battering rams shattered the wooden gates, flames climbed like hungry fingers toward the sky, and arrows arched like falling stars against the darkness. As Marcus and I reached the courtyard, we skidded to a halt. My breath caught. Sarah stood there, surrounded by Eastern soldiers who had already breached the perimeter. My mother ran forward, her face ashen, eyes wide with horror.
“Sarah… what have you done?” I demanded, disbelief and fury overtaking my fear.
Sarah’s eyes brimmed with tears, the metallic whistle still clutched in her trembling hand. My chest heaved as the weight of betrayal crashed over me. The gates groaned and splintered under the pressure, and on the horizon, I glimpsed the shadow of Reagan—and the entity within
