After the call cut, Bian sat frozen, the phone still pressed to his ear though the line had long gone dead.
His lips trembled, then he bit down on them hard—so hard he tasted blood.
Everything… everything had gone off-track.
This wasn't how it was supposed to unfold.
He'd planned it all. A neat little trade. A clean swap. Jian's rare, alien-blooded body for safety. For comfort. For power. But now… now the world was burning. The sky cracked open. The city howled with screams. People were dying, and the grayling descent had begun far too early.
His hands shook as he lowered the phone to his lap.
He could no longer control the chaos. But he could still survive it.
There was only one card left to play.
He dug his nails into his palms. "The stone," he whispered. "That stone Jian kept all through his youth…"
He could give that to the Farians.
