Wu Haoyu's POV:
The drones' hum was a knife in my skull, dozens of them swarming the hills, their crestless shells glinting under dawn's glare, Master Wu's voice slithering through: "Yanyan, cousin, the vault's open. Come home." My cousin, my blood, a damn snake, and every word he spat made me want to crush his throat. My pipe was slick with blood, arm and thigh screaming, chest gash burning, but I stood in front of Yanyan, pipe raised, ready to break anything—drones, Wu, the whole damn Council—before they touched her. She gripped her star-dagger, knife flashing, blood crusted on her cheek, ribs heaving, her eyes fierce but distant. My Yanyan, my fire, caught in Wu's web, and her trust in me was slipping, his name a poison I couldn't bleed out.
