The Ether-Mining Derrick shrieked its death throes. The emerald-green Ether bolt from the Northern Coalition ship had severed the main support beam, and the structure was leaning violently, accelerating its plunge toward the scarred earth.
Curse Blonde and Valis were stranded a hundred meters up. Curse, clinging to the iron strut, had used the silver dagger as a desperate anchor, its ancestral metal biting into the old framework.
"We have no time for rappel!" Valis yelled over the thunder of the collapsing metal. "The fall will kill us, and the landing will attract the Coalition ships!"
"We're not falling!" Curse shouted back, pointing to a massive, defunct Ether pump at the center of the platform. The pump, a hulking cylinder of pre-Crownlight technology, was the source of the residual energy Valis had tapped.
"That pump is a mass of decayed metal!" Valis countered. "It weighs twenty tons! It's going down first!"
"It's a cylinder, Commander," Curse stated, her eyes sharp with desperate calculation. "And it's full of residual Ether. We turn the collapse into a glide. Kael taught me this—use the mass as inertia."
She released the dagger, scrambling toward the massive pump. Valis, trusting her instinct born of chaos, followed.
Curse aimed her Ether Rifle at the massive, oxidized hinges connecting the pump to the platform. "The Ether pulse will shear the hinges! We ride the pump down!"
"You'll create a bomb on impact!" Valis warned, bracing himself.
"It's the only bomb we have," Curse retorted.
She fired a concentrated, continuous burst. The refined Ether rounds slammed into the rust-fused hinges. The metal screamed, heating to a furious white, and then, with a snapping groan, the hinges completely gave way.
The massive Ether pump plunged downward, dragging Curse and Valis with it. Curse and Valis clung to the pump's thick, stabilizing cables. The air rushed past them in a deafening torrent.
It wasn't a clean fall. The pump's cylindrical shape, combined with the momentum of the derrick's collapse, caused it to tumble and roll, dissipating the terminal velocity into a chaotic, kinetic spin.
They hit the ground with a devastating impact—a dull, earth-shaking THUD that sent dust and debris spraying into the air, but the pump's structure held, absorbing the brunt of the shock.
Curse lay still for a moment, winded and bruised, but alive. The collapsing derrick, now just a massive pile of twisted metal, landed a hundred meters away, burying itself in the earth and attracting the full focus of the Coalition scout ships.
"We need to move now," Valis gasped, pulling himself free and surveying the ruins. "The Coalition ships will assume we were pulverized in the wreckage."
⚓ The Forgotten Cache
They sprinted away from the smoking impact zone, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the wreckage. They moved low and fast, using the coastal plain's natural gullies and erosion lines for cover.
Curse knew they needed more than cover; they needed a countermeasure.
"The port," Curse decided, glancing at the distant coastline. "My father left the dagger for me at Marrowgate Port. He planned for me to retrieve it. My mother, Mara, must have left more than a lullaby."
"You're relying on a memory?" Valis questioned, his tactical mind rejecting the emotional risk.
"I'm relying on Mara's intelligence," Curse corrected. "She helped build the system; she knew its weaknesses and she knew my father's predictability. She didn't rely on him to win. She left a contingency."
They moved toward the port, now less than twenty minutes away on foot.
As they reached the old, salt-worn warehouses lining the defunct piers of Marrowgate Port, Curse stopped at a specific, weathered shed with a peeling blue door. It was structurally unremarkable, but something felt different.
She pulled out the silver dagger and examined the willow crest. She pressed the tip of the dagger against the shed door, aiming for a small, almost invisible notch in the wood.
The notch wasn't a lock; it was a frequency receiver, identical to the one that had held the Solvane Key in the Royal Willow. The dagger's energy pulsed, and the door slid open silently, revealing a reinforced basement hatch.
Inside the small, deep basement was a meticulously preserved weapons cache. It wasn't Alderon's military grade equipment, nor was it the crude resistance gear. It was Queen Mara'scontingency.
The small room held:
Two customized, lightweight power suits: Not the heavy Elite Team armor, but sleek, black stealth suits—flexible, high-speed, and designed for silent infiltration. They were clean, fully charged, and perfectly sized for Curse and Valis.
A specialized Ether-based 'Ghost' Skiff: A small, one-person aerial vehicle, designed for long-range, high-altitude travel. It was cloaked in heavy, magnetic dampeners, making it virtually invisible to current Coalition scanning technology.
A locked, final data drive: Marked with the willow crest, this drive was clearly a last testament, separated from the Citadel archives.
"Mara was not just a symbol; she was a master strategist," Valis breathed, stripping off his heavy, damaged uniform. "These suits are designed for deep-cover infiltration. They'll allow us to move through foreign airspace undetected."
Curse donned the sleek, black stealth suit. It felt lighter, faster, and more intimate than the Elite Team's bulkier armor. It was an armor designed for a spy, not a soldier.
"This is the route out," Curse confirmed, picking up the final data drive. "She didn't plan for me to conquer the Citadel and stay. She planned for me to breach the Silence, get the proof, and take the truth to the world."
She placed the final data drive into the Skiff's dash console. "This drive is the final piece of her plan. It comes with us."
🚀 The Global Stage
As Curse prepared the Ghost Skiff for launch, Valis monitored the exterior environment.
"The Coalition ships have secured the perimeter of Valmorah City," Valis reported grimly. "They've landed ground forces at the Citadel. They're already claiming the ruins. They're going to seize the technology and purge the remaining witnesses—including Kael and the Watch."
Curse's expression hardened. Her initial strategy of letting the Watch hold the city had failed. The Coalition was moving too fast.
"Our broadcast bought us time, but it confirmed the King is gone," Curse said, climbing into the Skiff's cramped pilot seat. "They're not waiting for a diplomatic response; they're moving for conquest. We have to draw the attention away from Demise Country."
She looked at the final data drive, its willow crest cool beneath her fingers.
"We go to the source. The Northern Coalition's capital city, Veridia. We don't ask for aid; we deliver the final truth directly into their assembly chambers."
Valis climbed in behind her. The small Ghost Skiff powered on silently, its magnetic dampeners absorbing all ambient sound.
Curse initiated the final data drive. The console projected a small, holographic message:
"My dearest Curse. If you are reading this, the Silence is broken. The world knows only half the truth. Alderon did not create the Crownlight. He only inherited the technology. The true orchestrator of the Silence is not a king, but a Council. They are waiting for you at Veridia. They will welcome you as a savior. Do not trust them. You are the only weapon they did not account for. Break the Veridia Accord."
The message faded. Curse took a deep breath, the stars above her seeming impossibly distant. She had defeated her father, but she had only scratched the surface of the true conspiracy.
"New target, Commander," Curse stated, her voice quiet but firm. "We are going to Veridia. The King's truth is out, but now we expose the Council."
She launched the Ghost Skiff. The small craft shot upward, silent and invisible, punching straight through the newly clear skies of Demise Country, heading toward the next phase of the conflict: the global political war.