Don's eyes widened—
Not at the chopper.
Beyond it.
Above it.
Through the thinning dust and the chop of spinning rotors, shapes broke loose from the ruined edge of Ebon Crest.
At first they looked like debris—burned fragments, bodies already dead.
Then one moved.
Then another.
Charred figures dragged themselves over the broken ledge and dropped. Some didn't even fall clean—hands still clutching at nothing, legs kicking in broken rhythm as they tipped forward and disappeared into open air.
Others jumped. Not controlled. Not alive in any way that mattered—but moving.
And they were falling straight toward the chopper.
Don's body reacted before the thought finished forming. His hand twitched upward, fingers spreading as he reached—
Nothing happened.
No—something did.
Pressure slammed into his skull.
His breath caught mid-inhale, teeth grinding as a sharp spike of pain cut through his head.
