THE FINAL FIGHT
Kaelus did not surrender.
He ran.
Remy chased him through the tunnels of the Deep Warrens, past the sleeping sleepers, past the abandoned mining equipment, past the walls of blue grass that marked the threshold of the forgotten prison.
He was fast. But she was faster.
She tackled him at the edge of the cavern.
They fell.
Rolled.
Stopped.
Kaelus was on top of her, his hands around her throat.
“You should have stayed out of my head,” he snarled.
“You should have stayed out of the water.”
She kneed him in the stomach.
He rolled off.
She stood.
He stood.
They circled each other.
“I don’t want to kill you,” she said.
“I don’t care what you want.”
He lunged.
She sidestepped.
He fell into the cavern.
The sleepers caught him.
“You are not welcome here,” they said. “Your hunger is your own. We will not feed it.”
They carried him away.
Remy watched.
Then she walked back to the Den.
THE SACRIFICE
Kaelus was tried by the council.
He was found guilty of crimes against the city — embezzlement, conspiracy, attempted murder. He was sentenced to life in the Deep Warrens, mining the rock that had once been his domain.
He did not appeal.
The hunters who had followed him were given a choice: prison or service. Most chose service. They became workers in the hydroponic gardens. Guards at the water treatment plants. Custodians in the Memory Den.
The city moved on.
But Remy could not.
The weapon inside her was fading. The memories she had absorbed — from the prisoners, from the sleepers, from the Devourer — were too much for her human mind. She was forgetting things. Her own childhood. Her mother’s face. The sound of Cassian’s voice.
Juno noticed.
“You’re dying,” Juno said.
“I’m changing.”
“You’re forgetting. That’s the same thing.”
Remy looked at her hands. The golden light was gone. The scars from her years of thieving were fading.
“The weapon is consuming me. The same way the Devourer consumed its victims. The same way the Warden consumed the prisoners.”
“Then get rid of it.”
“I can’t. It’s part of me now.”
“Then transfer it. Like you used to transfer memories. Put it in a box. Lock it away.”
Remy shook her head. “The weapon is not a memory. It’s a consciousness. A soul. If I put it in a box, it will die.”
“Then let it die.”
“It’s not mine to kill.”
Juno grabbed her hands.
“Remy. You saved this city. You saved Mars. You saved the sleepers and the prisoners and the ghosts. You’ve done enough. Let someone else carry the burden.”
“There is no one else.”
“Then let it end.”
Remy looked at her friend.
“You’re asking me to die.”
“I’m asking you to rest.”
They sat in silence.
Then Remy said, “Not yet. There’s one more thing I need to do.”