The sun barely rose over the crumbling skyline of Armitage—a city that once stood tall with glass and metal but now sagged under the weight of its own history. The streets were empty except for a few tired souls and the smell of smoldering ash, remnants of the riot from the night before.

Mara walked briskly through the alleys, her boots crunching over broken glass. A hood covered her head, and her face bore the grime of sleepless nights and silent resolve. She clutched a small, worn leather satchel, the kind you’d mistake for a forgotten relic—except it wasn’t. Inside was something worth more than the rest of Armitage combined: the last key.

They had called her back six months ago. *“We need someone who knows the city, someone who can move quietly,” the voice had said over the static-lined secure channel. It was Council business. And Council business was never clean.

She had been gone for eight years. Eight years on the northern fringe, farming sky-lettuce and trying to forget. Armitage had taken her brother, her youth, and her last good memory. But when they called, she returned. Because there was still a promise to keep.

The satchel bumped against her side with every step. Her destination was just ahead: the old transit hub buried beneath levels of concrete and old war posters. She descended the steps, flashlight flickering over rusted metal and collapsed signage.

At the bottom, she found him waiting.

Rene. A scar now crossed the left side of his face, a souvenir from one of the early raids. He nodded once, no words, and held out his hand. She paused.

“You’re sure this is the only way?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

With a resigned breath, she opened the satchel and pulled out the key. It was smaller than it should’ve been for something so powerful—an unassuming shard of transparent material embedded with old-world tech.

Rene took it, inserted it into the terminal’s hidden port, and waited. A low hum began, and the ground trembled faintly as ancient systems came online. Lights flickered in sequence. Somewhere deep beneath them, mechanisms groaned awake.

“This will destabilize the whole district,” she said.

Rene looked at her. “That was the deal.”

The terminal beeped.

“It’s done,” he said. “We get one shot at this. After this… no turning back.”

She stared at the blinking lights, listening to the slow rumble of buried engines. The escape tunnels beneath Armitage would open—just long enough to evacuate the ones who mattered. The others… well, the Council had made their choices.

She turned to go.

“You’re not coming with us?” Rene asked.

“No,” she said quietly. “I’ve got one more stop.”

He didn’t argue. Just nodded again and disappeared into the access tunnel.

---

The last place she visited was the overlook. From there, the whole of Armitage spread out before her—ugly, battered, proud. Fires still burned in parts. Drones zipped between rooftops. The city's final breath came on the wind.

She sat on the bench her brother had carved their names into, back when they thought they’d be something else. She touched the letters and smiled, just a little.

The tunnel would close soon. They’d all vanish into the earth, start over somewhere far from here. Somewhere untouched.

But not her.

She had nothing left to carry forward. And nothing left to fear.

The sky darkened as the pulse wave rippled out from the center of the city. She watched it come, steady and glowing, like a tide meant to wash it all away.

And when it finally reached her, she stood, closed her eyes, and whispered:

“I never belonged here anyway.”