[POV: Sofia Lanka]

"Get behind me, Beatrice! Lyon, the vents—they're starting to bleed that violet mist again! Don't let it touch your skin, it's a paralytic agent. Alistair, if you have one charge left in that pulse-rifle, I need you to aim for the floor, not the guards. We need to collapse the walkway before they lock us in!"

Sofia’s voice was a jagged shard of glass, cutting through the heavy, pressurized silence of the Royal Spire’s inner sanctum. Her lungs burned with the metallic tang of ozone and the scorched remains of the Lanka Fund servers. Every muscle in her body was coiled like a spring, her golden eyes...