The sky was streaked with soft fire by the time I woke. Rose gold bleeding into slate blue.

I sat up slow. The ache had settled into my joints, but it was manageable. Everything that mattered was still attached.

The antenna loomed ahead, quiet and inert. Waiting.

I rolled my shoulders, unzipped the side pocket of my pack, and pulled out the toolkit. Compact, battered, matte black. I knelt at the base, hands moving without thought now. Unscrewed the outer panel. Brushed off corrosion. Checked the hardline junction. Wiring intact, just dusty. Dormant.

Twenty minutes to bypass the old lockouts. Thirty to flash the new relay.

Another ten to tune the scrubber, narrowband the channel, and load the patch. Diagnostics after, eyes flicking between values. The antenna blinked once, then twice. The light at the top stuttered, then held.

Connected.

I pulled out the transmitter pad. Typed one phrase:

"FIELD REPAIRS."

Waited.

Three seconds.

Five.

Then the response came, short and clean:

"CONFIRMED."

No signature. No names.

But I knew who it was.

A breath I hadn't realized I was holding eased out of me, slow. The city didn't feel so far away now.

I packed up the kit, sealed the panel again, and turned toward the ventilation unit where we'd hidden the zipline.

Uncoiled the tether.

Retrieved the crossbow.

A tiny thing. Hand-sized. Silent. Beautifully built. I loaded the bolt with the steel cable clip, checked wind drift, and took aim across the gap to the neighboring rooftop, just shy of twenty meters. A narrow ledge, and nothing in between but wind.

I fired.

The bolt hissed out, cut the air, and struck metal with a sharp, decisive clink. The anchor held. I gave the line a tug, then another, until it sang taut.

Secured.

I clipped the harness in place, checked the brake, double-checked the tension. Every piece of gear had been tested before. But now it wasn't a drill. Now it was the only way down.

I backed up. Checked the landing zone one last time through the scope.

Clear.

One last breath.

Then I took three steps, ran...

...and jumped.

Not yet sliding.

Just flying.

Just free.

Character: Aurora

Released on February 28, 2026 (26_4)

License: CC-BY-NC-ND / UDL