The moment the zipline caught and carried me forward, the world narrowed to a hum and a drop.
Wind surged against my skin, city light blurring below in long ribbons of amber and static blue. I gripped the harness tight, boots tucked, the trolley groaning softly as it ate distance. Everything vibrated, my spine, the line, the pulse in my throat. Speed had its own language. Weight and motion negotiating with gravity.
Then impact.
My boots hit the landing pad hard, hard enough to jolt breath up into my ribs. I stumbled once, caught myself at the edge of the rooftop, and blinked into the late light.
And that's when I heard it.
"Aurora!"
A voice, sharp, familiar, cracked the silence.
I turned.
Dawn stood near a ventilation stack, half-smiling, one hand raised like she hadn't just been gone for a month. Hair pulled back. Boots scuffed. Eyes fierce. The kind of calm that made my chest hurt.
I'd missed her. More than I let myself say.
"Thought you'd fly right past me," she called, already moving closer.
I unhooked from the harness, heart still galloping from the ride. "You're early."
"You're late," she shot back, then nodded toward the zipline behind me. "Don't worry about the line. Someone else'll handle it."
I glanced at the setup, still taut, still gleaming. Dismantling it wasn't impossible, just... not something I could do in thirty seconds. I hesitated.
Dawn stepped beside me. "Forget it. We need to move."
"Why?" I asked, already feeling it in the air.
She didn't answer. Just tilted her head toward the west.
A low mechanical whine scraped through the sky.
Drones.
At least two, maybe three. Not close, but scanning. The sound bounced off steel and concrete, hard to pin down. The rhythm of the blades was unmistakable.
"Shit."
"Yep," Dawn said. "They're sweeping. We've got sixty seconds, tops."
I followed her gaze. The edge of the roof dropped into shadow, but along the side, just beyond the lip, maintenance shafts crisscrossed the building. Narrow. Exposed. But navigable, if you trusted your feet.
"There's a safe path down," she said, already jogging. "Shafts and drop-ladders. You just have to step off and not second-guess yourself."
"Right," I said, breath already catching in my throat.
We ran.
Dawn moved like water. No wasted steps, no hesitation. I followed, arms pumping, the slap of our boots echoing across the roof. Behind us the drone buzz grew louder, tighter, syncing up with our heartbeat.
No time for doubt.
We reached the edge. She didn't pause.
She leapt.
One foot on a narrow pipe. A pivot. Then she dropped to a platform below, grabbed a rung with one hand, and swung.
I followed.
Steel under my boots, sky at my back, adrenaline in every tendon.
We were still moving.
Still free.
Released on February 28, 2026 (26_5)
License: CC-BY-NC-ND / UDL