Garen takes a long breath and closes his eyes. Centering himself before bad news lands. An old soldier’s habit.

"You’ve given me a headache with this, kid."

He pulls a folded piece of paper out of his inventory and a small cloth pouch holding four Crests of Azurea. He weighs the pouch in his palm once, like a man reluctant to part with something that costs more than its weight.

"The intel I could get is here, and I haven’t read it. Safer for me not to know." He tosses the pouch across the table. "And forgive me—I can’t do more than I already am."

Of course he can’t. If the Deepwarden catches Garen Azurea poking his finger where it isn’t invited, everything goes underwater before any of our setup is even seated.

He just played a card he can’t afford to play and he’s already calculating the cost.

I catch the pouch in the air and open it immediately. The Crests clink against my palm as I lay them aside on the table—four small medallions, each a different shade of Azurea blue, for our safety, an emblem of protection.

The note is folded once.

I read.

Deep Asylum, Sector 4.

Location: Deepwarden Base, Veridian.

Heavily guarded site.

The description of the man matches one of the prisoners held.

House Benthic answers to the King.

I knew it.

I lean back in the chair. Set the paper face-down on the table. My fingers stay on it for an extra second, like keeping it covered keeps the truth contained.

We have to go to Veridian. Exactly as my findings back on Earth suggested.

I can find that place easier now because of the memories.

My father is the only one who can help me save Lola, and Rae told me—in another life—that the Asylum was in some remote, isolated location.

Lying piece of shit. The whole time it was right under our noses.

Veridian is a forty-minute walk from Azure Prime. I’ve passed through it twice in this life without giving it a second thought. Apparently the Deepwarden likes its irony.

"The best place to hide something is under the enemy’s nose," I murmur, mostly to myself.

I let the information settle and start mapping the next steps.

Garen sent House Benthic to do the reconnaissance—and got useful intel back. House Benthic is loyal to the crown, which means whatever they brought him is filtered through someone who answers to Garen, not the other side.

I tap the paper twice with my finger. Time to push where I have leverage.

"Garen. I need working capital. A loan from the crown. I’ll pay back with interest."

Veric snorts.

"Oh ho. The mighty Dryden Sands begging my father for a loan." He cocks his head, leaning forward across the table. He couldn’t miss this opportunity. "You made eighteen Plates in two weeks. Why the hell do you need a loan?"

"You made eighteen Plates?" Garen looks up from the decanter he’s pouring. Visibly thrown.

"I did. And I’ve spent them. I’m an expensive man."

"I’m also a businessman, Sands." Garen seats himself in the chair at the head of the table. Sets the glass down between us. "Before I say yes, I need to know the amount and the reason."

"Like I said, I’m an expensive man. I need a steady income source. I’m opening a business."

"You need a kickstart, then." He folds his hands around the glass. "What kind of business?"

I take an empty glass from the side tray and pour my own measure from the decanter, slowly. The dark liquor glows amber under the chamber’s low lights.

"You’ve been in the trenches. OXI Drop. Sound familiar?"

Veric is openly lost in the conversation now. His face confirms it.

"Of course I know it." Garen leans back. The chair creaks once, soft. "It’s what we used in the field for refills. Not enough Scales to keep filling the tanks of every Rank A and S running combat operations."

"Exactly."

"You’re thinking of commercializing it?" He shakes his head. The condensation on his glass leaves a pale ring on the table when he sets it down. "Impossible, kid. The benefits are real, but the taste is horrendous. The acidity corrodes the stomach. It’s a long-term killer. Trench-only for a reason."

He brings both elbows to the table, bracing his forearms against the surface.

"Several teams tried to bring it to market and fell apart. Daily use isn’t worth the cost." He finishes looking directly at me.

I take a sip. The liquor is good. Warm.

"But I have a new formula. Tastes good. Acidity dialed way down. The killer property cleaned out."

Garen takes a sip too, and his eyes track me over the rim of his glass. The granite face doesn’t move. Behind it, calculation.

"I’m guessing you won’t share how it’s made."

"Correct."

"How much do you need?"

I run the math behind my eyes. I actually need around two Core Scales. One Core is a million Scales. He won’t fund me at that level—that’s like asking him for half of his personal fortune in Scales.

"About thirty Plates."

A starting figure. Definitely going to help me, definitely small enough that he won’t choke on it.

He swirls his drink. Once. Twice.

"I’ll consider it. I’ll have an answer for you soon."

"Consider carefully. The return is high. I can give you royalti—"

A voice cuts across mine.

"Dryden?"

A woman’s voice. The communicator at my collar.

I recognize it instantly. It’s Rhayne.

I tap the comm.

"Rhayne. Everything okay? I’m back."

"I need your help here. Come. Fast."

Her voice is the wrong tempo. Too thin. The Rhayne I know weighs every syllable before she lets it out. The Rhayne on this channel is breathing through the words.

"What’s going on?"

"A lot of them... they’ve surrounded my dorm."

The line of her sentence is too short. There are details she’s swallowing. Either she can’t say them in front of whoever is listening, or she’s already worked out that she doesn’t have time. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Veric is in the party. He heard everything. His eyes lift across the table and lock onto mine. The arrogant prince’s expression has dropped clean off his face. He’s already pushing his chair back.

"Sands..."

"Let’s go. We have to move."