Chapter 33 - Ashes on the Shore
The descent down the hawser was a blurred nightmare of whistling wind, burning leather, and blinding rain. Halfway across the chasm, the sanctuary tower behind them took a second direct kinetic strike. The entire stone structure buckled, folding inward like a house of cards before collapsing into the raging waves in a geyser of white foam and pulverized dust. The sudden loss of anchor tension caused the cable to snap violently, whipping them forward.
Sofia hit the muddy cliffside hard, rolling through briars and sharp slate before coming to a breathless halt against the roots of a wind-twisted cedar. Victor tumbled close behind, groaning as he dragged his bruised frame out of the mud, his crossbow clattering against the rock.
Sofia pushed herself up, spitting grit and blood. "Are you in one piece?"
"Nothing broken that won't mend," Victor wheezed, clenching his ribs. "Look down."
From their vantage point atop the coastal bluffs, the horror was plain to see. Black flat-bottomed skiffs were detaching from the massive dreadnoughts like locusts, swarming the shallow waters of the fishing village below. The shoreline was already alight with fire; incendiary rounds had ignited the drying nets and thatched roofs of the villagers who had harbored Sofia’s family years ago.
Men in iron breastplates—the Vanguard of the Directorate—marched out of the surf, their repeating rifles crackling through the storm as they began their sweep.
"They're hunting in grid patterns," Victor observed grimly, unstrapping a pair of brass spyglasses. "Vance gave them the precise coastal coordinates before we drowned him. They aren't leaving a single soul alive who might have seen your face."
"We can't let them slaughter those people," Sofia said, her voice shaking with raw fury. She adjusted the vambrace around her arm. The metal was fever-hot now, sending sharp pins and needles up to her shoulder. "My father brought us here because he trusted these people to keep the secret. This blood is on my hands."
"Sofia, listen to me," Victor caught her arm, his eyes pleading in the amber glow of the burning village below. "We have zero heavy artillery. We have twelve bolts and one functioning sidearm. If we run headfirst down into that beach, we aren't heroes—we're corpses. We have to reach the secondary bunker in the salt caverns. The cipher we extracted from Vance’s wax seal holds the command frequency of their fleet. If we can intercept their comms, we can turn their own guns on each other."
Suddenly, the brush behind them snapped with the unmistakable sound of cocked steel.
"Don't twitch," a harsh, synthetic voice rasped through the dark.
May you like
Emerging from the dripping ferns were four Vanguard commandos, their faces hidden behind matte-black rebreather helmets, their carbines pointed directly at Sofia’s chest.
***
