Page 83 of Storm of Stars

“What now?” Briar asked.

“Citizens. From the west side. They’re pushing back. Trying to take back the tower.”

“Citizens?” Bex echoed.

“Armed?” Zaffir added, his voice softer than usual.

Edgar nodded. “Not like us. But enough to make it a fight. And our people are already stretched thin. We took hits getting in.”

Briar swore under her breath and raked a hand through her hair. “What’s the play?” she asked.

“We hold them back as long as we can,” Edgar answered.

“How?” Bex pressed.

Briar and Thorne exchanged a look, silent and steady. “However we have to,” Edgar said.

Zaffir looked like he might be sick. “What if they surrender?” His voice barely carried, but it cut straight through the tension.

“If they surrender,” Briar said, her eyes locking with his, “they won’t be harmed.”

Edgar shook his head, jaw clenched. “But that’s a big if. And we don’t have long. If they keep pushing, we’ll lose the west tower by morning. And everyone guarding it.”

The silence that followed said what no one else could. If we lost the tower, we’d lose the advantage we’d only barely garnered… and then the war itself.

“That’s where you come in,” Edgar said, his gaze moving from Bex to Zaffir. “You need to get through to them. Show them the truth. Make them see who they’re really protecting, and what it’s costing.”

He took a step closer. His voice dropped, steadier, heavier. “Make them see it,” he said again.

Briar placed a hand on his shoulder, firm. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Edgar said, meeting each of our eyes before turning, limping his way back toward the towers.

We stood in silence for a breath. Then I spoke.

“We need to move.”

Zaffir gave a small nod. “The Show Center is just ahead,” he said, calm on the surface, but his voice had a distant edge to it, like he wasn’t entirely here anymore.

And I couldn’t blame him.

His mind was probably with the people at that western tower right now. People he’d grown up with. Neighbors. Classmates. Maybe even someone he used to love. People who’d lived under the same stories he once believed in. People who weren’t soldiers, but were still picking up weapons to defend a lie they didn’t even know was a lie.

This war wasn’t easy on any of us. But for Zaffir, it had to cut deeper. He wasn’t just fighting Praxis. He was fighting pieces of his past.

And if those citizens died out there, if they lost their lives defending the version of truth Praxis had spoon-fed them since birth, was it even really their fault?

I didn’t know anymore.

All I knew was that if we didn’t get this right—if Bex and Zaffir couldn’t reach them in time—there’d be more blood on the streets by morning.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

Bex

How areyou supposed to feel when you realize you're living through history?