The red light was not a star.
Elias watched it grow as the sun rose, a smear of crimson against the gray sky. The light was a ship's running lamp, and it was moving fast—too fast for any civilian vessel. It cut through the waves like a blade, its hull black and sleek, a red sun painted on the bow.
"They've found us," the Guardian said. Its silver body was cracked, one arm hanging limp. "The cult of the First Mind. They must have tracked the disturbance when the atoll was destroyed."
Elias turned to the others. The children were huddled at the stern, their small faces pale and exhausted. Lyra was awake, but barely. Isaac had his head in Ava's lap, shivering despite the growing warmth. The adults looked no better—Jesus had a gash across his shoulder, Reyes was limping, and Becky's hands w
