Page 65 of Sy

The rain hammered against Ashley’s skin as Tor appeared at Sy’s elbow. His crimson eyes locked on to her. Instantly, she knew this was not Tor but the creature who lived inside him.

“You need to understand something.” His damaged voice was like the growl of metal against metal. “Your daughter is the trigger for the weapon.”

Lightning fractured the sky, casting the construction site in stark relief. It was like this weather was trying to do them in as much as the aliens about to land.

“Weapon? What weapon?” Her hand tightened on Lila’s shoulder. What should she do? How could she protect her daughter from this?

“The one buried beneath the surface of this planet. A fail-safe.” Tor tilted his head, studying her through those blood-red eyes. “It requires a specific neural pattern to activate.” His voice remained steady, as if he wasn’t destroying her world with each word.

“Your daughter’s mind now holds that pattern. Without her, the weapon is useless. With her, we have a chance against those who would destroy us.”

Her breathing quickened, her free hand curling into a fist. How many times had she told Lila that everything would be okay? That she would always keep her safe?

“You want to use my daughter as a weapon?”

“Mom. I want to help.” Lila’s voice cut through her rising panic, stronger than Ashley had ever heard it. She stepped away from the shuttle’s shelter, the rain instantly soaking her through. The calm confidence in her eyes… When had her little girl grown so tall, so brave?

“No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not. You’re getting on that shuttle.”

“But you’re staying to fight,” Lila said, her chin lifting in that stubborn way she’d had since she was tiny. The same determination had gotten her through every challenge, every setback. “Why can’t I help too? I’m not a child anymore.”

She stared at her daughter, seeing her for the first time. Gone was the little girl who’d crawled into her bed during thunderstorms. In her place stood a young woman with steel in her spine and fire in her eyes. The silence stretched between them.

Her throat tight with fear and something that felt uncomfortably like pride, she turned back to Tor.

“Will my daughter be safe?”

Tor met her gaze without flinching. “As much as any of us will be safe. She is the trigger now. If her body dies, she will continue as legion.”

The words hit her like a shuttle at speed, and she reached instinctively for Lila, finding only empty air as her daughter moved closer to Tor.

“That’s not exactly a comfort.” Her voice cracked slightly.

Tor’s expression softened. “All legion here would lay down their lives to ensure her survival. She will be protected.”

Two strides brought her face-to-face with him, close enough to see the inhuman patterns in his crimson eyes.

“If anything happens to her,” she breathed, surprising herself with the deadly calm in her voice, “I don’t care how immortal you think you are. I’ll find a way to make you suffer for every second of your endless existence. Do you understand?”

His lips quirked slightly, amusement in his eyes. He inclined his head.

“Perfectly. I would expect no less. I can see where your offspring gets her strength.”

Ashley turned back to Lila, a dozen protests on the tip of her tongue, but the woman standing before her wasn’t the little girl who needed those warnings anymore. She managed a single nod, and the tension in Lila’s shoulders melted away.

Her daughter’s arms wrapped around her in a fierce embrace that threatened to shatter what remained of her composure. She held on tightly, trying to memorize everything about this moment: the way Lila’s shoulders felt under her hands, the warmth of her despite their soaked clothes, the steady beat of her heart.

“I love you,” Lila whispered against her neck before pulling away.

Ashley forced herself to stand still as her daughter walked away with Kal and Tor, her steps steady despite the mud that tried to pull her down. The storm lashed at Lila’s small frame, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t look back. Pride and terror warred in Ashley’s chest as she watched her daughter disappear into the rain.

Every instinct screamed at her to run after Lila, but she stood rigid, rain coursing down her face and masking the tears she refused to acknowledge. Then Sy’s voice cut through the downpour.

“Ashley, I—” He paused, and she could hear him struggling for words. “What I said before, in the meeting. I was wrong. About human strength. About everything.”

The rain traced cold paths down her face as she considered his words. She thought of his dismissive tone in the meeting, the way he’d talked about human weakness as if they were all just pawns in the legion’s game. Now her daughter was walking into danger, showing more courage than any of them had expected. More courage than Ashley herself felt capable of in this moment.

When she finally turned to face him, she made sure her voice was as steady as Lila’s steps had been.

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