Calyx felt the new message land in his sight like a bittersweet memory from distant battles. The words jogged his memory.
[From: Radeon]
[To: Fay]
[Preta's an ally. Trust him. Run. I'll handle the rest.]
Radeon's hand was moving now. Calyx did not see the weapon. He only needed to put his faith in him.
Below, the bazaar was already turning. People converged on the pagoda from all directions, not only the cartel's men, but mortals too.
Pitchforks rose. Eyes shone red, hungry, with a feigned righteousness shaping their deceitful expressions.
They had smelled the factory. Vision crystals, the colored smokes, the sweet lies.
When men believed heaven was being made inside a building, they did not ask who was causing trouble.
The minds of mindless men ran only on how much they could get from the commotion.
Good Chip was still in front of Calyx, fists clenched on his sword's hilt, brave and stupid.
