Page 35 of Storm of Stars (Pride of Praxis #2)

“The Praxis defactor is right,” Edgar added and I didn’t miss how Zaffir flinched at the moniker. “They’ve got numbers and training.”

“Then we don’t charge blind,” I said, stepping forward. “We go in waves.”

Devrin nodded beside me. We’d discussed this on the bus ride. It was as good a plan as we could conceive. The numbers we had would help.

I pointed to the map we’d laid across a makeshift table of bark and old crates, Praxis stretched across the parchment, its towers, relays, and walls marked in crimson ink.

“If we go slow, methodical, we can pull their legs out from under them,” I said. “They know we’re coming, so we have to be smart about this.”

“The first wave will go at night.” Devrin said.

“We need those high-tech Collectives,” I added, looking to Edgar “People with hacking and sabotage experience, any of it. They’ll disable the outer surveillance, jam the perimeter frequencies, and create blind zones across the city grid.”

“We’ve got a team,” Edgar replied.

“Silent entries only,” I confirmed. “No conflict unless absolutely necessary. That buys us stealth and time.”

“Once the perimeter is compromised,” I continued, “Wave two moves. We need the Collectives with engineering experience.”

“Or explosives,” Devrin added with a shrug.

“These teams will target the power relays, weapons caches, and the guard towers’ core systems,” I continued.

“Then comes wave three,” Devrin said. “Strike squads assigned to each tower. With comms down and defenses failing, they’ll move in to neutralize the remaining guards and take control. Lock down the towers.”

“Healers and Medics can push in but hang back to care for the injured,” Edgar added, pointing to a few spots on the map.

Bex leaned in, tracing a finger along the route. “That clears a path…”

“For us,” I said. “Wave four. The tip of the spear.”

Thorne’s eyes lit up at that, and Ezra gave a short nod of approval.

“Our team. We’ll move straight down the center once the guard is neutralized. If things go according to plan. We can slip right through.”

“We take the Show Center,” Zaffir said, his voice steady. He pointed to a cluster of buildings at the city’s heart.

“If we can take control of the network,” he said, “I can plug in, I can show them the real Praxis. Everything they’ve hidden. I can put it on every screen, every frequency. I can wake them up.”

“It could spark support from the inside,” Ezra added. “And at the very least, it ensures they can’t rewrite this later. We’ll have already told the truth.”

I nodded, drawing a clear circle over the Show Center. “Then that’s our first stop.”

Zaffir met my eyes. “I’ll show them. No more propaganda. No more filtered feeds. I’ll show them what Praxis really is.”

“And after that,” I said, closing my hand into a fist over the location of the Archon’s command quarters, “we finish this.”

Bex’s voice was soft but firm. “We try to negotiate surrender first.”

Everyone nodded. No one here wanted to kill unless there was no other choice.

“But if she refuses to step down,” Edgar said, “we end it. One way or another.”

Silence fell across the tent. The map lay covered in scribbled notes and routes and names, our plan written in ink and desperation.

Outside, the distant murmur of thousands of voices hummed against the wind.

Tomorrow, we’d make history.

“I’ll organize the strike teams,” Edgar said, already rolling up the sleeves of his battered shirt like he was ready to dive into the trenches right then and there.

I gave him a firm nod. “Good.”

“Do you have leaders for each group?” Devrin asked Edgar.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Think you can gather them for a debrief?” Devrin asked.

Edgar stood from his crate. “Absolutely.”

“Think it’ll work?” I asked Edgar. He was the one who’d been planning this rebellion, I didn’t want to steamroll him with our idea if he had a better thought.

“It’s better than the one I came up with,” he said with a smile.

“What was your plan?” I asked.

“It included a lot of explosives,” he shrugged before stepping out of the tent.

“Think you two can go help him brief the teams?” I asked Thorne and Ezra.

They nodded, each leaning down to press a quick kiss to Bex’s cheek before slipping from the tent with a quiet resolve. Watching them both walk out, shoulder to shoulder, felt like watching the heart of this rebellion leave to start beating.

Devrin lingered a moment longer. He turned to me, extended his hand, and we clasped forearms like soldiers do.

“It’s a hell of a plan,” he said, voice lower , serious.

“It’ll work,” I replied, my voice firmer than I felt, but I had to believe it.

He smiled faintly, a curve of something both weary and hopeful. “I hope you’re right.” Then, without another word, he disappeared through the flaps.

Only Bex and Zaffir remained now.

Zaffir had drifted silently to Bex’s side. He pulled her into a soft, protective embrace, wrapping his arms around her like she might still vanish if he blinked too long.

I watched him touch her gently, brush a strand of hair from her face like she was something fragile, sacred.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek, almost reverent.

“You too,” she whispered back, and I could hear the truth trembling in her voice.

“I never felt as scared as I did when I heard Veritas give the order” he said.

“I’ve been gathering footage for years. The things Praxis cut, manipulated, erased entirely.

I’ve got drives full of their darkest secrets.

Edited trials. Fabricated charges. Executions dressed as disappearances.

Didn’t know what I’d do with it, if anything.

But I think deep down I knew one day I’d need it. ”

His voice tightened, fury brimming beneath it.

“I’m gonna take everything they buried,” he said, “and make sure the whole damn world sees it.”

Bex leaned forward and kissed him. There was nothing rushed about it, just something deeply grateful, and quiet, and alive. His hands found her waist, held her like she was gravity itself.

And strangely… I didn’t feel jealous.

Maybe it was the way he loved her, fierce and loud and without apology. Or maybe it was because, after everything we’d been through, watching the girl I loved be loved so openly felt… right. Maybe love, in its truest form, was meant to be shared, not owned.

When they finally parted, Zaffir turned to me. There was something different in his eyes now. Purpose. Fire.

“I’ve got some editing to do,” he said with a small smile.

I gave him a nod.

He slipped through the tent flaps without another word, the momentum of revolution humming in his wake.

And just like that, Bex and I were alone.