Page 54

Tomoe

L eaving wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I’d told myself that it wouldn’t be, had made my peace with it. After all, the people I cared about most were coming with me. There wasn’t much I was leaving behind—just walls and furniture, a compound that smelled like drying concrete and damp earth. And herbs. And food. And terribly stale tavern beers. Like home.

That wasn’t true though. That wasn’t all I was leaving behind. Now there was more than material items. Emma. Olivia. Luke. Hal. Elie. Luna … they would all remain, and the future wasn’t set. There was no guarantee we’d all see each other again.

We were already behind schedule. The sun had cleared the horizon an hour ago. Goodbyes were hard. The troops didn’t mind. It bought them all precious seconds with their loved ones. Elie and Emma worked to draw it all out—the worst offenders by far. They swore to Amaia up and down that they would do what it took to keep The Compound safe. The over-the-top hand gestures and declarations were nothing but a show, a way to keep us here for if only one more moment. I’d miss them. Emma had made this all particularly bearable when everything else was crumbling around me.

Then there was Yasmin. Her goodbye with Riley had been almost painful to watch. They didn’t say much; they didn’t need to. The way Riley hugged her, how he watched her growing stomach …

I’d been cornered shortly after that, and though I didn’t care for her or her shitty attitude, I let it slide.

“You keep him safe,” she demanded, leaving me no room to debate. “And Lilia too. No matter what else happens out there, she is top priority, she is only a child.”

“I don’t need you telling me how to do my job or keep those under my watch safe.”

Yasmin didn’t flinch—only stared me down as if I could be intimidated. We were even heights, but that was irrelevant given I could face Ronan head-on and not waver.

“Once she gets those wards down, she goes straight to the safest settlement,” she reminded me. “No further. A child does not belong at the center of this war.”

I didn’t bother bringing up that there were in fact hundreds, no, thousands of children at the center of this war—but sure, I’d keep my promise on making sure this one stayed safe.

Riley arched a brow of skepticism at the two of us as he approached, his pack full and bursting at the seams, axe holstered on one leg, Shadowstep blade on the other. “Amaia wants everyone to wrap things up. Time to move out.”

I scoffed a laugh then nodded to Yasmin because arguing with her was pointless. “I’ll be anywhere but here.”

Amaia stood near South Gate, the dawn light spilled over her like molten gold, softening the hard edges of a woman who rarely allowed herself to be seen this way. She was still—unmoving as she stared at The Compound. Her eyes flickered on every small detail as if she might imprint it into her memory. This wasn’t just home for her, it was a battlefield of ghosts. A silent witness to every decision she’d ever made—good or bad.

Leaving here felt final in a way.

Her shoulders sagged betraying words she wouldn’t dare say out loud. This could be the last time. I watched as her fingers twitched at her sides, her usual confidence faltering. It left me uneasy. Amaia did not waste time second-guessing. And yet, here she was, rooted in front of the gate leading into Entertainment Square like she was afraid to move forward—or maybe she couldn’t let herself look back.

I wanted to believe she was tired. That this war hadn’t carved pieces out of my sister already. But that would be a lie. One I could no longer spout as I stood here watching her. The way she was staring at Monterey Compound was less about leaving a physical place and having everything to do with the pieces of herself she could never get back.

It was not The Compound she was saying goodbye to. It was the person she’d been when this all began as nothing more than a dream.

“Take care of this place,” Amaia said quietly to Luna, her voice steady but weighed down by something she wouldn’t let show.

Luna didn’t respond right away. Instead, she stepped forward and pulled Amaia into a hug. the kind of embrace that resembled a goodbye wrapped in gratitude. The gesture was normal for Luna—she was warm when she felt up to it—but Amaia … She didn’t stiffen or step back. She stood there, still and silent, letting herself be held.

It was unsettling.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Alexiares watching, his brow drawn tight in confusion, maybe even concern. Our gazes met for a split second, the question hanging between us: what’s going on inside her mind?

Amaia pulled back, offering Luna the faintest nod before turning to Elie and kissing the top of her golden curls. “I love you and I am proud of you.”

Elie froze like she’d been struck. Her mouth opened, then closed, no words finding their way out. Tears streamed down her light brown cheeks, her hand drifted almost instinctively to the hilt of the blade Amaia had made for her.

Amaia reached out, ruffling Emma’s blonde hair. “Look after each other,” she said softly.

“See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya,” she quipped, but her voice cracked at the end.

Amaia turned to the shadow that approached from behind. Her gaze sharpened as she sized Caleb up.

“I’d like to stay,” he said, his tone firm but cautious. His fingers ran through his now shaved head, the blond that had previously been dyed a sandy brown back to its natural sun-kissed state.

Amaia’s eyebrow lifted. “Give me one reason, soldier.”

Caleb squared his shoulders. “My brother’s still here. And his fiancée—wife now, I suppose. Nephew too from what I saw. If something happens …” He paused, his jaw tightening. “I want to be here to protect them. There are amends to make, and if it comes to goodbyes, I’d rather say them in person—during our final moments.”

She didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes flicked over him, and for a moment, her usual impenetrable resolve cracked enough to let something else through—consideration, maybe even trust.

“You report directly to Miller and Luna,” she said, voice flat.

Caleb exhaled, a quiet relief. “Thank you.”

Amaia’s lips quirked in a faint, teasing smile. “That’s how repaying favors works, right?”

It was her way of saying he was okay. That she trusted him now.

The shrill cry of a toddler made me jump. Hunter kneeled in front of Adelaide a few feet away, smoothing her curls as she clung to his leg, her tiny arms refusing to let go. “Hey, honey,” he said softly, the latter portion of his sentence breaking off. “You’re going to stay here with Luna, okay? She’s gonna take good care of you. You mind your manners, best behavior. Pinky?”

Adelaide shook her head fiercely, looking every bit a Moore, her grip tightened. “No! Want you!”

Serenity crouched beside them, tears staining her cheeks. “I know, baby. I know it’s hard. But remember when mommy and daddy told you the story about the people who saved the world? It’s our turn to help.” Her voice wavered, she brushed a soft hand over Adelaide’s face as she nodded.

Hunter kissed Adelaide’s forehead, “Be brave for us,” he whispered.

Serenity finally pried Adelaide’s hands free, lifting her into her arms one last time. She hugged her daughter close, swaying gently as if she could soothe them both. Then, with trembling hands, she passed Adelaide to Luna. “Please, keep her safe.”

Luna’s arms wrapped around the little girl and said, “With everything I have.”

Hunter and Serenity lingered for a moment longer, their gazes locked on Adelaide as if they could will this parting not to hurt. Then, wordlessly, they turned toward Caleb, offered him a nod that stated they’d all already said their goodbyes and stepped back toward the transport. Hunter’s arm wrapped tightly around Serenity’s shoulders as her quiet sobs broke the silence.

One by one, soldiers readied to move. Riley stood near the back, his jaw set as he watched everyone settle. Reina was by his side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her usual soft expression sharpened by Jessa at her side. I really needed to find a way to get rid of her. Yasmin, I could tolerate. She loved Riley and Riley was clearly beyond smitten with her. But the clingy blonde shadow who didn’t know when to leave my sister alone? That was a problem I’d have to solve later.

Amaia hadn’t moved. She stood rooted near the gates, staring at The Compound as though it was both her greatest triumph and her deepest regret. For a moment, I thought she might stay. Her shoulders tensed, her hands clenching at her sides as if holding herself together.

“Amaia,” Riley called out, his voice steady. “We do our jobs out there and that will make sure we always have a reason to come back.”

Amaia turned her head slightly, enough for the corner of her mouth to twitch in acknowledgment. She finally turned, her boots crunching against the hard ground as she stalked down the road. Alexiares and I hesitated, exchanging another glance.

Neither of us followed right away. We both hesitated, watching her. Amaia’s movements were measured, but they lacked the fire she usually carried. There was no anger, no defiance. Just silence.

“What is it?” Alexiares asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the wind.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

The Kentucky border was a distant dream. One measured not in miles but in the unrelenting crunch of boots on asphalt. The groan of solar vehicles struggled against harsh elements, and the weary plod of horses who, like the rest of us, smelled like shit and appeared to be reconsidering life choices.

Weeks of snaking through the fractured highways had taken us from Arizona’s blistering sun to New Mexico’s eerie silence and, finally, into Texas, which was still Texas: too big, too bold, and far too stubborn. The wanderers there clung to the land, convinced they’d inherited it from the universe itself, not realizing how far their roots had rotted.

I sat perched on a supply cart near the front of the caravan. Dust clung to every surface, including my teeth. I wiped at my mouth for the tenth time that morning, spitting the grit to the side. The scent of sweat and worn leather mingled with the sharper tang of the horses.

Other settlements had joined us along the way, a serpentine force winding through a fractured country. Albuquerque had been the first real rallying point. Honestly, the city was barely holding itself together. With most of Transient Nation having the wits to flee, ghost town wasn’t an exaggeration.

Scouts had timed the rendezvous points perfectly. They ran themselves ragged between settlements, ensuring each group arrived like clockwork. A job completed with such precision that by the time we reached Oklahoma City, the force had grown into something resembling an army. As each convoy added to the mass, more than soldiers arrived. Each settlement had arrived with supplies and healers to dole out—to share. The most conflicting arrivals had been loved ones who’d volunteered.

They’d come because they couldn’t bear to let their people fight alone. Brave, stupid, or both—I couldn’t decide. I wasn’t sure which was worse: to lose someone in battle or to lose them while they held your hand.

Kansas was a hard pass. Traitorous bastards—they’d not shown when it came time to move out. That only meant one thing.

“Why isn’t he stopping us?” I’d asked Alexiares as healers worked to address the wounds of the last prisoners we’d managed to set free. There were hundreds of them. It went far beyond Hunter’s caravan. We’d found residents from Salem and The Expanse whose loved ones had thought long dead … Ronan’s own citizens too.

“Because he doesn’t have to,” he said, sharpening his blade.

I hated how easily he said it. I hated that he was right.

Weather became our greatest threat the second we hit Oklahoma, pelting us with rain that turned the roads into mud traps. Horses slipped, carts got stuck, and food was lost. Still, morale was at a high.

That wasn’t to say there wasn’t fighting. No. There was plenty of that—just not the kind that left bodies on the roadside. Leadership clashed constantly, and I had half the mind to stick them in a circle and tell them to hash it out with their fists.

Amaia, of course, was the exception. It was unnerving. She kept her focus on the bigger picture, detached from the smaller dramas. She was the general now, and though we all felt it as her family, we couldn’t name what had changed within her. The plan to split into two forces once we hit Kentucky was brilliant—strategically sound, even poetic in its ambition—but it was also the perfect fuel for arguments.

Two weeks out from Kentucky and the constant tugging within my mind was going to drive me insane. There was something the universe had intended for me to see, but I could not. Not with Ronan safely tucked behind his wards. Still, I listened—and still I tried.

Ronan was still waiting for us—or not. That was the problem. The camps we liberated were eerily unguarded, their soldiers apathetic at best. Hundreds of prisoners stumbled out of those hellholes, their freedom too easy. Salem. The Expanse. Even Covert’s own people. It didn’t make sense.

It was against that backdrop of unease that the plan to split forces ignited the argument of the century. I’d never seen Riley and her go at it with such intensity, never seen such piercing rage flow through him. No small amounts of Reina’s magic had calmed the situation.

Two routes: one safer, one a gamble.

Amaia had insisted on taking the riskier route. Predictably, no one would let her. It wasn’t just about strategy; it was about survival. If one group had to make it to Richmond, it was hers. None of them would say it outright, but I would—Amaia was the movement. Without her, this whole thing would collapse faster than Riley’s patience when he had to repeat an order.

She didn’t fight them long. When Alexiares backed Riley, she let the argument die. Her silence cut deeper than any words she could’ve spoken. I’d seen her command armies, face impossible odds, and hold her ground against the fiercest enemies. But in that moment, surrounded by her family and closest allies, she looked … cornered.

The plan was simple on paper: our forces would encircle Richmond, dividing its defenses. Amaia’s group would head northeast. Follow the river into West Virginia then Virginia—flank Richmond from the northwest.

Riley would take a smaller, more skilled force—to include Hunter and Serenity’s caravan as a way to accommodate the lack of bodies and overcompensate with magic—down a southeastern path. From there they’d cut through Arkansas into Tennessee and attack from the southwest. This was where the brute of Ronan’s forces laid for it was the more direct route in.

About fifteen miles outside the city the two groups would converge. The larger forces would create chaos at the perimeter while a vanguard unit—Amaia, Alexiares, Riley, Reina, Hunter, Serenity, two cavalry units, and a small squad from Alpha Unit—would slip into Richmond.

Lola would portal them in.

It would use up every ounce of magic gifted from the earth that she had. The kind of spell that left a mark on your soul. She would be punished for daring to wield power so recklessly. She might never cast again. If this failed, there wouldn’t be a second chance. The irony in plans were they were only as good as the people willing to carry them out.

And a cornered Amaia would always make her own plans.

But plans, no matter how carefully crafted, didn’t account for the weight of perception. Amaia to the masses, was no longer a young, reckless leader—they respected her now. Respect wasn’t reverence; it didn’t silence dissent.

The soldiers weren’t afraid to challenge her, treating her more like an equal than an authoritative entity. She wasn’t commanding a broken, desperate army anymore. These people had grown stronger, surer of themselves, and they weren’t afraid to meet her decisions with resistance.

Right there, in that challenge, was the beauty of the situation. They had finally seen her for what she was, something more than a girl in a general’s role. She was more than a rising leader—they had given her the space to prove herself. And now that she had, they secretly hated her for it.

It was funny, in a way. Most of my life, I’d thought being underestimated was the worst thing you could face. That was in The Before.

In The After, it was better to be seen as weak. To not be a threat.

Because threats get taken out.