"We aim for the next transport," I said, my voice echoing softly against the damp walls. "Council supply shipments leave for Aetherion every few hours. We'll infiltrate one."
Asterion nodded, though his eyes flickered with the question he wouldn't ask: "And if something goes wrong?" We both knew the answer to that.
As if reading his unspoken doubt, I let my gaze harden a fraction. "If they've already prepared a trap, so be it. We adapt."
His jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Only gave the faintest sign of agreement—an incline of his chin. He'd nearly died beside me once already, tangling with meltdown anomalies and whatever plots the Devil Coffins had been stirring. Yet here he stood, forging ahead. Maybe that was his brand of insanity. Or maybe he just hated feeling powerless. I didn't mind. As long as he stayed effective, he could keep his illusions of choice.
