Footsteps echoed on the glass floor.
Lex moved through the dense smoke, the cramped metal walls around him flickering in the reddish light of the flares. He peered through the door to the next room and saw the aftermath of the rebels’ attack. In the dim, flickering light lay three mercenaries and about a dozen corporate employees, sprawled lifeless on the floor. On the second floor, a woman’s body hung limp over the railing, her arms dangling loosely in the air.
Tardino shuffled through scattered bullet casings and took his place behind a control panel, flanked by folded-out glass displays. In the center of the console, a holographic projector cast a cross-section of the tower into the air. Rooms at the top of the structure glowed red, indicating the chaos the rebel glider team was unleashing. The technician’s fingers danced across the virtual keyboard. Moments later, the room’s lights flickered on, and the ventilation system roared to life, sucking the acrid smoke of the flares out of the air.
"I can’t unlock the elevator doors from here," he said. "We’ll need an access card."
He turned, scanning the lifeless bodies scattered across the room. One employee was still alive, clutching his stomach as dark blood seeped between his fingers.
Tardino limped toward the man. As he crouched beside him, he asked, "Who has the access card for the elevators?"
The employee raised his eyes, locking them with Tardino’s. "Why… why should I help you?" he groaned.
"Because you still have a chance to turn your life around, even at the very end."
"I’ve… spent my whole life doing the right thing," the employee said. Almost black blood pooled between his teeth, staining his once-brilliant white smile. The shot had pierced his stomach, leaving him coughing up blood and bile after every word. "For over twenty years, I’ve fought for the rights of the stranded in Adenaaru." He paused, struggling to breathe. "I’ve fought… for the integration of the refugees. Unlike you… I care about people. Men, women, and children who… flee from your violence."
Tardino regarded the man with pity, though not for his wounds. “Who has the access card?” he asked again.
"Not everything is black and white," the man said through gritted teeth, his voice strained with pain. "But you can’t see that."
Suddenly, his body slumped. His head rolled to the side, his chin resting against his chest, before he toppled forward, lifeless.
Tardino rose from his crouch and addressed the group. "We’re running out of time. Search their pockets. Someone must have the access card."
It took Lex a moment to tear his gaze away from the fallen man. A dead flare rolled past him, kicked aside by another rebel. With reluctant hands, Lex searched the pockets of another corporate employee—a man in his sixties, gray-streaked hair, clean-shaven, his angular face frozen in a lifeless stare. In the inner pocket of the man’s corporate uniform, Lex found a wallet. He flipped it open, his eyes catching on a family photo tucked behind the clear sleeve. He only glanced at it briefly, but it was long enough for the smiling faces to sear themselves into his memory. The image of the man holding his wife and daughter burned like a corporate brand in his mind. No one would ever smile again. Not the man, not his wife, not his daughter.
Lex pulled a gold-colored card bearing the TC logo from the wallet and held it up for Tardino to see.
"This the one?" he asked.
Tardino limped toward him, already squinting at what Lex held. "You’re our man, Lex," he said.
"Anyone could’ve found it."
"But you did. You’re our good luck charm. You’re a hero. Now hand it over."
Lex said nothing, though he doubted heroes were supposed to feel as hollow as he did in that moment.
******
The glass elevator ascended the tower’s exterior, gliding steadily upward. As Lex gazed out over the rooftops of skyscrapers, Vega Prime’s brilliantly illuminated network of streets spread out beneath him. The elevator had climbed to five hundred meters. Below, multiple convoys approached the tower grounds from different directions.
"How much time do we have left?" asked an injured rebel, her voice strained.
"None at all," Tardino replied. "Their air support could greet us in the skies any moment. As soon as we’re at the top, we’ll cut the cables holding the elevator. At the very least, that’ll stop the mercenaries below from following us."
Just then, debris began raining down onto the elevator roof.
Lex looked up. Through the rain-streaked glass, he saw them—women in short skirts and men in tailored suits, falling one after another from the tower’s windows. Steel wire nooses around their necks snapped them back with sickening force, breaking their necks instantly. About ten meters below the floor they had fallen from, the corporate employees hung suspended in midair. Their arms and legs dangled lifelessly, their bodies swayed back and forth in the storm like hellish pendulums.
"What is this? What the hell is this?" Jake whispered, unaware that he had spoken aloud.
"It’s called revenge by spectacle," Tardino answered. "Remember when they executed our people on the marketplace in front of live cameras? Hemold, Tangaroa, Flint, and the others. Any moment now, First News camera drones will swarm the tower. Then the world will see that we don’t forget our family. That we won’t let TC’s crimes go unanswered."
The elevator doors opened one floor below the observation platform, on the 338th level, home to First News’s broadcasting station. Its frosted glass facade bore the news company’s oversized logo, flanked by two towering palm trees. Chaos raged behind the glass, visible even through the milky panes—the Crimson Dawn had left their mark.
Lex stepped forward just as the elevator’s suspension cables, under relentless gunfire, snapped. Sparks erupted as the high-speed lift plummeted down the shaft. The explosive crash echoed upward, reaching Lex just as he arrived at the broadcasting station’s doors. Behind them, a shadow moved faintly. Moments later, the door slid open.
Before him lay another battlefield. Several gliders had managed to crash-land on the level, their impact leaving a path of destruction through the office space. Smoke billowed from damaged engines, seeping through shattered windows, and corpses of news anchors lay crushed beneath the wreckage. Some rebels dangled lifelessly in their harnesses, victims of the failed maneuver.
Lex stepped over the body of a blonde news anchor who bore an uncanny resemblance to Ginger North. Could it be her? Was this her inglorious end? He walked past the skeletal remains of once-elegant desks, their edges lined with glass shards. Many computers remained intact, their screens playing various advertisements that were gradually interrupted by live feeds from reporters stationed outside the tower grounds.
Rebels were tying up editors in the broadcasting station. Tardino typed into a console: "Hello, world! This is the Crimson Dawn." His hand hovered over the scanner, visibly trembling.
"Here comes the moment of truth," he muttered. "Was Jax really worth it? Did Veela actually upload my biometric data to the central server? If not, we’re screwed."
Lex couldn’t recall ever seeing the ship technician so unnerved. A bead of sweat traced a line down Tardino’s forehead before he finally pressed his hand to the scanner.
The device flashed green. Confirmation.
The message was sent. A collective sigh of relief swept through the room.
For now, they controlled the infonet, the television, the world.
Lex wandered past Tardino, stepping through the open-plan office. Outside, ropes tied to desk legs or heating pipes swayed eerily beyond the lower window frames. Rain splattered inside. Lex grabbed onto the jagged aluminum frame of a shattered window, bracing himself as he edged closer. His left boot hovered just over the abyss. He looked down at the dangling bodies of the hanged employees.
The entire tower grounds were visible from here, and reinforcements from TC were already swarming the site. Armored vehicles spilled out troops, who appeared as little more than dots from this height.
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"Get the hell away from the windows!" Tardino barked, grabbing Lex by the jacket and yanking him back from the snipers’ line of sight.
"TC combat drones are incoming," reported a rebel.
"Understood."
Tardino still held Lex’s collar as he maneuvered them both through the room. "I need something to wake me up," he muttered, grabbing a cup from a coffee dispenser. The machine spat out a brew laced with SnackBite Inc.’s powdered milk. He clasped the steaming plastic cup and blew away the rising vapor.
"Listen up. I hate repeating myself, and I never give compliments twice," Tardino began. "You found the unknown matter, the Black Orb, the whole world was searching for. You smuggled it off the moon and into Luvanda. You went through hell to deliver it to our brothers and sisters. Thanks to you, for the first time in history, the continent has a real chance at independence from TC. You’ve gone from a meaningless convict to our most vital asset. I’m sorry we couldn’t always be honest with you. And I’m especially sorry Veela had to lie to you. But we needed to be certain we could trust you."
Lex stared at him, serious and intent. "What do you need me to do?"
"Climb the stairs to the observation platform," Tardino said. "Stand there and show yourself to the world. Let them see you. We’ll handle the rest from here." He sipped his coffee. "Now go," he added. "Go and set the boulder in motion. Let it crash through the gates of lies and open the door to truth. Go and take the step needed to free your people on the prison moons. We’re counting on you."
******
Steel stairs spiraled upward from the office level, leading to the observation platform nearly two miles above the ground. Up here, Lex wasn’t just close to the storm—he was in the heart of it. Lightning streaked through the dense gray mist above, source-less and erratic, cracking like whips across the sky. As he reached the top landing, the wind sliced through him, icy and relentless, tugging at the hem of his jacket. He squinted against the gusts, halting on the last step.
He wasn’t alone on the storm-wrapped platform.
He spotted a young woman standing at the far end of the platform. She clung to the railing, bracing herself against the storm. He could only see her from behind. She leaned slightly over the edge, gazing into the golden, mist-shrouded abyss below. Her hood fluttered wildly in the rushing currents of the cloud cover.
He thought he recognized her silhouette.
But that was impossible.
He had to be mistaken.
She turned toward him before he could fully approach. Perhaps she’d heard his footsteps crunching through the snow, or perhaps it was something deeper, louder—his thoughts, the erratic beat of his heart.
"Veela?"
He wanted to say something more. Instead, his mouth hung open, rain dripping from his bottom lip.
This is impossible. But she’s standing right in front of me.
"Fate, Lex. It’s brought us together again. We’re here to finish our story."
He hadn’t heard her voice in so long. Her real voice. Its soft tone, its rhythm—he had almost forgotten them. Now it all came rushing back.
She seemed to be waiting, expecting him to say something, anything.
But he could only stare.
"Fate, Lex. Do you remember the prophecy? The boy from the moon and the girl from the city—together, they’ll free the people from their oppression."
He wanted to speak. Sleet dampened his face, dripping from his lower lip, while his breath fogged in front of him, shrouding the figure who now consumed his every thought, his every action, his world. The girl who had stood before him on DENOVA-2 had been someone else entirely. Now, she was the Veela he had known. At least, he wanted to believe that.
"I’m here," she said. "I’m with you again, Lex. And this time, no one can tear us apart."
He hesitated, taking a single step toward her but no further. An invisible barrier seemed to separate them, making the distance between them far greater than it truly was.
"Do you remember our last day together, before you left for Luvanda?" she asked.
He looked at her, then nodded.
"I told you we’d both be different people after all this time. Wasn’t I right?"
He swallowed, considering her words. His gaze drifted out into the snow-laden night, blurred and distant. "You could’ve just told me you were with the rebels. It wouldn’t’ve changed anything."
"It would’ve changed the whole world," she replied. "A single sentence can be so powerful it rewrites history. And this would’ve been one of those. If you’d known from the start who I was, you never would’ve delivered the Black Orb to the rebels in Rykuunh. You never would’ve seen me again. And you wouldn’t have become one of us out of your own conviction—only for me."
"So that’s what this was all about? The whole thing was just a test?"
"We had to know if fate was on our side. Whether it’s our destiny to free the prisoners on the moons, or if we’ve been chasing a purpose that will lead us all to ruin."
Her damp, wavy hair spilled from beneath her hood, cropped to her shoulders. Her large, sorrowful eyes mirrored the same sadness he’d always known in her. Somehow, it calmed him to see her like this. The carefree, jubilant girl from DENOVA-2 had terrified him. So much.
"We have a goal," she said. "One we can only achieve with your help."
"Releasing the data," he replied.
"Do you know what those secret records contain?”
"Earl said they could free the prisoners on the moons."
"They’re not just data, Lex. They’re memories. Your memories."
"Mine? What does that mean?"
He glanced at her outstretched hand, where snowflakes landed and melted. Slowly, hesitantly, he placed his hand in hers. It was their first touch in years, and it left him breathless. He didn’t move.
"Thanks to their control of the infonet and their propaganda, people still believe TC is a force for good in Luvanda. They have no idea what the corporation’s true face looks like. You’re one of the few who escaped the nightmare of the prison moons, and the only one who made it back from Luvanda to Vega Prime."
He stared at her, uncertain, his eyes tracing her pale, beautiful face. He said nothing, and she didn’t seem to expect him to. Releasing his hand, she continued:
"Hemold made you sign a non-disclosure agreement. It was the condition for leaving the moon. Did you abide by it?"
"I..." he hesitated. "Not exactly."
"Who did you tell?"
"You, of course. And a friend in Luvanda."
"Anyone else?"
"Just you guys."
"Think carefully, Lex. Who else did you tell?"
He did as she asked, searching his memory for the answer. His eyes narrowed in concentration before widening in sudden realization. "I told Eerie," he said.
"Yes. You told her everything about Limbo Two, night after night. Every memory you could recall. You told her your whole life story."
He nodded.
"Tardino has Eerie’s recordings from those nights on the SAMSON. While we stand here, he’s uploading them. Any moment now, they’ll be available on the infonet for everyone in Vega Prime to see. People need to see your face, Lex. They need to know who you’ve become.”
"Who I’ve become?"
"Years ago," she continued, "you were on television, interviewed by Ginger North about your homeworld. That clip proves you’re truly from Limbo Two. It was obvious even then that you had to lie about the conditions there. Eerie’s recordings of your memories confirm it. When people see which side you’re fighting for, you’ll win their hearts. And that’s the key to freeing the slaves on the prison moons. The citizens of Vega Prime are our only hope."
Veela stepped forward, pausing after a few steps to turn back to him.
"First News camera drones will be here any moment, circling the tower. People need to see your face, Lex. They need to see the boy who stands against the most powerful woman in the system. And when they see you, they’ll find the courage to do the same."
******
The seed of hope grows from the ashes of broken dreams. Would they ever make it out of here alive? And even if they did—where was home now? There was no safe place left for them, not anymore. Not with the First News drones circling them like mechanical vultures. The whole world now knew what Zara Thandros had always feared: Lex Marrow was part of the Crimson Dawn.
The beams of the searchlights cut through the falling snow, illuminating the two rebels, two pale, ghostly figures on the stage of a play whose ending was more uncertain than ever. Below, the city appeared as a miniature landscape cloaked in clouds, its life momentarily stilled. Citizens across the sprawling megacity of Vega Prime—at home, at work, in the streets—stared at the screens. Even on the massive zeppelins circling the skyline, the faces of Lex and Veela were broadcast for all to see.
Lex glanced at Veela, her face bathed in the cold glow of the drone lights. He wanted to kiss her. But under the gaze of the cameras, the gesture felt too sentimental. He was now the face of the Crimson Dawn—strength and determination personified.
Veela reached for his hand.
"Whatever happens to us," she said, "just try to live in this moment. The happiness you feel right now... it wouldn’t last forever anyway. But right now, it’s alive, vibrant, and beautiful precisely because it’s fleeting."
"I don’t want to lose you again," he said.
"You won’t. Wherever we go, we’ll go together."
"Do you think we can even get out of here?"
“We have to. Some of the gliders still work. But the odds aren’t in our favor. Getting to a place where we’ll be safe is just another impossibility we’ll have to make real."
"Being with you somewhere safe... that feels like a dream too good to be true."
"The world isn’t what we see in it," Veela said. "It’s what we make of it. Let’s fight for the future we dream of."
She turned her face into the rain, gazing directly into the drone lights. From this height, the city stretched endlessly, a cold expanse of concrete and artificial light. The skyscrapers loomed like monstrous steel creatures, their glass facades reflecting a world built on profit and propaganda. Everywhere, massive screens adorned buildings and airships. Where moments ago Lex had seen his own image alongside Veela’s, he now watched a new broadcast: his story.
The footage shifted to him aboard the ST SAMSON, recounting the horrors of his life. He spoke of the enslaved workers on Limbo, of his mother, who’d been lost to a mining accident when he was twelve, and of Tayus, who’d been sent on a suicide mission by TC under the guise of the FLD. He told E.E.R.I.E. of the twelve wasted years he spent hauling ore sacks just to survive. Of the beatings, the starvation, and the constant, crushing propaganda—that redemption could only come through hard labor, and that death was the only escape.
The citizens of Vega Prime, pulled from their daily routines, glimpsed a reality they’d never imagined. Not the full truth, but enough to pierce the veil. Another curtain fell, revealing the stories of enslaved men, women, and children on Limbo II, a world they’d never known but that had always existed.
Standing on the platform, holding Veela’s hand, Lex felt as though his entire life had led to this moment. This was the culmination of his existence. And yet, it didn’t feel like his victory alone.
"You’ve reached level 30, Lex. You’ve grown from a young dreamer into a man, the new face of the Crimson Dawn. But this is only the first step. There are countless adventures still ahead of us. The true mission, freeing the slaves from the Kronos moons, will be our next great goal. And in the end, we will bring the Thandros Corporation to its knees. But until then, we’ll need a lot more experience... and gear. Lex, we’re going to do this together. This is our legacy."
Veela tightened her grip on his hand. In that moment, he knew, it was their shared struggle, their shared triumph. Together, they had risen above their oppressors. And though freedom meant far more than standing here, soaked, trembling, wounded, with little hope of escape, they remained unbroken.
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THE END... for now.