Kalbir could be considered the villain of our story. But I don’t believe she was, not truly. For all her perceived faults, she was still a woman to be admired. Like all of us, she had terrible decisions to make, and to make them, she gambled on her best chance of survival, just like we did. In fact, many of the things we did could be considered much worse. The only difference between her and us is that she lost her life.

—Cindra, Letter to Omega

My mind connected with the thread of every cyborg and android on the island. I saw through all their eyes at once and felt every ounce of fear, hope, and in some cases, joy. Their memories also rushed in on me—everything they’d ever seen, everything they’d ever done.

Everything that had once held me together now swarmed: my bones, my skin, my flesh, my blood.

I was losing control; it was too much for my part-human mind to contain.

I don’t think they expected you to live very long.

Just as I began to come apart, strands of another energy wrapped around mine, holding together the parts of me that had begun to fracture.

Fane had joined me, giving structure to my power. “Steady, Ailith. Just let it go through you.”

Through me. Through them. Through the soles of everyone on the island.

“It’s time. Take your posts.” My voice sounded strange, as though it carried many more than my own.

The others hurried off, ready for what we’d prepared for, our final battle. Lily’s sobbing was nothing more than a sigh on the wind as I groped behind me, searching blindly for the trunk of the tree. Fane guided me, and I leaned back against its base, cradled by the roots.

Through the eyes of one of the androids, I watched the invaders rush to get their weapons.

Four figures lingered in the eye of the storm—Ethan and Celeste, roaring orders to their respective troops, and Ji and Grace, lying prone as the waves lapped at their feet. The twitch of Grace’s muscles as she tried to keep still was almost imperceptible, Ji’s comforting murmurs muted by the water. Blood had soaked into the fabric where their bodies were pressed together.

Stay still. Just a little longer. Once Ethan stepped off the beach, we could help them. Hang on.

A spasm of pain must’ve caught Ji by surprise because he cried out, the sound catching in his throat too late.

I held my breath.

Ethan barely glanced at him, and I understood. He didn’t care if Ji or Grace died, but he didn’t care if they lived either. For now, in this moment, they just had to stay out of his way.

I settled my spy down to wait and gave my first orders. When the beach is clear, hide them.

From far away, Fane’s calm voice told Ryan and Lily that their daughter was alive, that we would keep our promise.

I found another scout and took stock of our playing field. Just how many had come to sacrifice themselves?

Ninety-eight. We were almost evenly matched. They split into two groups, Ethan at the head of one, Celeste at the head of the other. It looked as though they planned to work their way up the island from either side toward where we waited under the tree. Whatever their plan, we weren’t going to make it easy for them—they’d have to earn our deaths.

Through the eyes of the others, I saw the enemy’s faces, their hands slick with sweat on their weapons. None of the men and women Ethan had brought to bay for our blood had any formal experience with fighting or war, other than their determination to hate and their ability to survive. They’d fought battles in the aftermath of the Artilect War, but they’d had an advantage then—modern weapons, desperation, the cruelty that comes with us or them against foes who couldn’t fight back.

Ethan had cultivated them carefully. People he was willing to lose. People he wanted to lose. People who would eventually want pieces of his power.

He wouldn’t have to worry. None of them would be coming back. They’d thought to find us defenseless, for us to beg.

They’d thought wrong.