"The war is over," Croft says firmly. "The Prime Node is destroyed. The network is dark."
"The network is dark," I agree, looking out the window at the glittering city. "But the echoes remain. And echoes have a way of waking people up."
Down in the central courtyard of the GBDC headquarters, the morning sun casts long, golden shadows across the newly paved cobblestones. The air smells of fresh-cut timber, blooming jasmine, and the faint, sweet scent of woodsmoke from the integration school’s physical training grounds.
Asher sits on a stone bench beneath a newly planted oak tree. He is twelve years old now, tall for his age, his white-and-black hair cropped short in a practical, military-style cut. He is dressed in simple, dark tactical gear, moving with a fluid, grounded grace that beli
