Night had fully claimed the prairies by the time they reached the farmstead. The house-normally quiet, unremarkable-felt like it was holding its breath. For the last hour they'd worked in grim silence, locking windows, bracing doors, dragging old furniture into makeshift barricades. Every distant rustle of the wind sounded like footsteps.

Aria, pale as she'd ever looked, lay curled on the couch beneath a thick blanket, her breathing thin and uneven. Her eyes were still covered by the blindfold, but her expression was tight with agony and sweat dampened her hairline.

Lance knelt beside the couch, ignoring the protests of his aching knee, and withdrew the battered shotgun he'd previously neglected. His hands were steady, but only just.

Before he could stand, Aria's hand shot out and seized his wrist.

Lance froze, expecting a surge of mental energy, but Aria wasn't using her powers. Releasing her grip, she signed toward him, slow but deliberate. Concentrating, he did his best to understand her message.

Give it to you. End it. Leviathan dies.

Lance's face crumpled.

"Aria... no." He shook his head fiercely. "That cure should be yours. You need it far more than-"

She interrupted him with another sharp gesture, even more frantic this time.

You. Take it. Leviathan won't be a symbol anymore.

Lance swallowed hard, throat working, as he fought against the growing hollow in his chest. "You're not thinking clearly-you're burning out, kid. You take the dose, and that's final."

Footsteps sounded in the doorway.

Kaylene stood there, arms crossed tight to her chest, expression carved from equal parts fear and stubborn resolve.

"She's right," Kaylene announced. "But not about giving it to you. She's right that we need to talk about Leviathan." She jabbed a finger at him. "But nobody is taking that cure until we're all in agreement."

Aria made a small, frustrated exhale, sinking back into the couch. Kaylene moved to her side, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"We're not doing the self‑sacrifice thing tonight," Kaylene said softly. "Not you, and definitely not the old m-Lance." She turned back to him, her eyes fierce. "We stick together. No splitting up, no martyr plays, no deciding who deserves to live more. Not after everything we've seen. We are all staying alive, and that cure will be used to help people."

"I love your optimism," Lance offered, "but I don't see us, or this cure, leaving the house of our own accord."

To his astonishment, Kaylene only smiled in response. "That's the thing, Lance," she replied. "The one thing this whole awful adventure has given me... is a little bit of hope. If the great and terrible Leviathan can change... maybe we've all got a chance." She glanced toward the distant city outside. "Maybe they do, too."

The room went quiet, save for the low hum of the old farmhouse heater and Aria's unsteady breaths.

Outside, the din of the summer night was loud, the songs of crickets filling the endless grass, but then Lance heard it-a distant pop, faint but sharp enough to echo across the open sky.

"Stay inside," he commanded. Slinging the shotgun's strap over his shoulder, he marched toward the front door. "Keep that vial safe."

"You're going out there?" Kaylene exclaimed.

"It's my farm," Lance shot back. "Someone has to greet the guests."

Pushing through the front door, Lance Reyes stepped outside.

He turned toward Horizon City, the great tower of steel, just in time to catch a flash of light blooming across its distant edge. The wind shifted suddenly, rolling toward him with a rising force that carried with it a wave of old concrete dust from the ruined building at the centre of his field.

The first thing Lance saw was the light-a glowing golden star swept across the sky, arcing over the city and out into the plains. He could hear it now, the hum of engines on open road, rolling toward him like distant thunder.

Then came the rest.

A sharp whir overhead, followed by a mechanical chirp. A line of drones swept in from the south, their floodlights snapping on in perfect synchrony. Cold white beams carved across the prairie and fixed on his farmhouse, bleaching the grass in harsh light.

Vehicles followed-armoured carriers cutting across the gravel driveway. Their tires spat dust as they fanned out, forming a semicircle at the edge of his field. Doors slammed open. The heavy boots of Enhanced hit the earth one after another.

Lance felt the ground vibrate beneath him-faint, but unmistakable. He stumbled back as pressure rolled outward across the fields, bending the crops low like they were bowing to a god. A brilliant figure touched down in the field, leaving ripples of displaced air in their wake.

Machina had returned at last.

A familiar voice echoed over the din, volume modulated.

"Lance Reyes."

The name hit the prairie like a verdict.

Lance stared up at the Enhanced before him, and, to his surprise, found he couldn't help but smile.

"Hello, Addison."

Director Addison Cross didn't wear a cape or hover like the young David Winters. She didn't need the theatrics. Instead, as EON's leader touched down on freshly tilled soil, the Machina armour carried her with a deliberate, grounded weight, each step pressing faint craters into the dirt. Her armour was older than Winters'-less ornamental, more industrial-built in the days when the suit was meant to save lives, not impress cameras. Unlike Winters' gold radiance, Addison's light was slightly colder, steadier-like the rest of her gear, it was functional, not decorative.

As she approached Lance, her sharp, tired eyes met his and the hollow in his chest only grew. Her hair was like brushed silver-had it always been so grey?

Addison raised an arm, and the rest of the Enhanced soldiers froze where they stood-waiting for her command.

"You know why I'm here, Lance," she declared. It wasn't a question.

Lance exhaled once through his nose, slow and steady. He stared straight at the woman in the armour.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I know."

The floodlights tightened around him, pinning him in a ring of light. Lance could see the glow of their mounted cameras-the capture of Leviathan would be broadcast to the whole city.

Addison took a step forward. The air around her hummed with the quiet resonance of repulsion fields, subtle but unmistakable-Machina's presence was never silent.

"EON intercepted a flagged Cult communication two hours ago," she stated. "A widespread transmission. About you."

The muscles in Lance's jaw twitched.

"So that's it?" he asked. "You heard a rumour and sprinted halfway across the province?"

"No," Addison replied. "The old lab had CCTV. Half my task force is putting down Aberrant riots in Horizon City because of what you did in that video. The entire city knows who you are."

Addison took another step forward, her boots pressing small craters into the dirt.

"You have two other Aberrants inside," she declared. "Kaylene Adeyami and Aria Voss. They're unregistered, unstable, and in possession of vital EON property." Her voice dropped. "I need all three of you to come out peacefully."

Lance barked a humourless laugh. "You know that's not happening."

"Don't make me force it," Addison warned.

The hollow in Lance's chest deepened-any further and he was afraid things would start to fall apart.

"You're not taking them," Lance hissed. "They're only kids. They want to help people."

"So did you, once," she murmured.

That stopped him cold.

A floodlight swept across Lance's face, catching the grief carved into his features.

He took a slow, deliberate breath.

"Addison... this isn't the way. Erasing Aberrancy isn't a path forward-it's a rejection of everything we've learned. Don't let my mistakes force your hand."

Addison Cross said nothing for a long moment, but Lance saw her expression darken.

"I'm not," she shot back.

The farmhouse door creaked.

Kaylene stepped out onto the porch, arms held high-but not in surrender. In pleading.

"Wait," she called. "Please. Just-wait."

Immediately, half a dozen Enhanced swung their weapons toward her. Addison raised a single hand, halting them.

Kaylene's voice trembled but didn't break. "Nobody in that house is your enemy. But you can't force this." Her gaze swept across the line of Enhanced, then landed squarely on Addison. "The cure isn't a cure unless people choose to accept it."

Addison didn't budge. "You know the problem better than anyone-from the footage in the lab, your friend Aria is a High Aberrant, isn't she? She's a danger to herself." She took another step forward. "Aberrancy is dangerous-it's not part of the natural order."

"Neither is surgery," Kaylene shot back. "Neither is chemo. Neither is any treatment in the world that's ever saved a life. But people still get to choose those. You can't take something that's supposed to help people and turn it into a weapon for compliance." She stepped off the porch, hands still raised. "You don't get to decide who someone is without their permission."

Addison's jaw tightened, the subtle shift barely visible through the armour's framing.

Kaylene kept going.

"You say we're unstable. That we're risks. But that's exactly why forcing the cure will backfire-people don't trust you. They trust each other. They trust someone standing beside them, not above them." Her voice grew stronger, steadier. "If you mandate this, Aberrants will hide. They'll run. And the Cult will be waiting with open arms."

A flicker passed over Addison's eyes-fear, or recognition?

Kaylene lowered her arms-slowly, deliberately.

"Let people choose, Director. Let us choose. Or you'll turn Leviathan into a prophecy all over again-this time because you made it true."

Addison's reply was soft. Final.

"I'm sorry, child."

Lance stepped between them.

"Addison," he pressed, quiet and shaking, "don't do this."

She stiffened. Just slightly.

"This is bigger than us," she murmured.

"No," he whispered. "It was always us." he pointed one shaking hand at the farmhouse. "That girl in there, Aria, is refusing to take the cure at her own peril, only to ensure it gets distributed by people who care. If Mira had grown up to be half as brave and selfless-"

"Don't you dare bring our daughter into this!" Addison snapped. It was only a moment later that she realized what she'd said.

Kaylene froze. Enhanced turned their heads, military rigour momentarily forgotten. Even the wind seemed to still.

Lance's heart plummeted. He stared at Addison, the air between them suddenly too thin to breathe.

"Addison," he pleaded, voice breaking like dried earth, "don't take them from me. I can't lose them too."

"It's about far more than you," Machina spat, "Leviathan."

Lance wilted at the name. The camera drones fixed on him, and a world's worth of judgment pressed against the hollow beneath his ribs. Around him, the dirt shifted, the very soil beginning to tear itself apart under his influence.

"Addison," he whispered. "Please."

Her gaze didn't waver. If anything, she looked inches away from giving the order.

"I have no choice."