The edge of the ruins crumbled beneath her boots. Kivye stood motionless, eyes fixed on the chasm below. The calculations were simple: mission failed, no further directives, expendable. The bandages around her wrists fluttered loosely, drained of purpose. There was no fear. No sadness. Just silence.

She took a single step forward. Then a shift in the air stops her. A heartbeat not her own, someone was there watching and approaching.

She didn’t look back. “If you’re here to stop me,” she said flatly, “you’re late.”