Dawn crept over the peaks of Persetta, casting long beams of light across Memento's courtyard. The air carried a cool, early-spring bite, softened by the occasional wandering breeze that tickled Tsuki's forearms. She stood near a transport carriage, unloading crates of supplies with another Memento member.
"Thanks, Tsuki!" the woman said, giving a grateful smile as she hoisted the final box onto the platform.
"Not a problem," Tsuki replied, brushing her hands clean and offering a quick wave.
As she turned to leave, she caught fragments of a conversation behind her.
"Did you hear about the attacks last night?" one soldier whispered to another.
Tsuki slowed her pace.
"The Ghost again," came the hushed response. "Took out another APC higher-up. That makes five in the last two weeks."
"They're freaking out," the first murmured. "Scouts say they're assembling elite strike teams. Apparently, the APC has its own threat scale, and guess who's top of the list?"
A shiver went down Tsuki's spine. Her brow furrowed. The Ghost again.
Just who are you?
She didn't have long to dwell—Maro's voice called out from across the courtyard.
"Tsuki! Over here!"
She straightened her posture before walking towards the leader. "Hey, Maro. Reporting in."
"Perfect timing," he said, rolling up a worn map and tucking it under his arm. "We've got grappling hooks accounted for, but food prep is still a mess. I sent Geo and some others to sort it out, but they could use an extra hand. Think you're up for it?"
"Of course."
"Knew I could count on you." Maro smiled, then motioned toward the fields beyond the tents.
Tsuki made her way out, gravel crunching softly under her boots as the courtyard faded behind her.
"Morning, Tsuki!" Geo called out, standing near a wooden cart stacked with vegetables. "Maro sent you for the fun shift, huh?"
He tossed her a tomato. She caught it with a laugh.
"Seems that way. How's it going?"
"Not terrible," Geo responded. "Knoxx and I handled most of the loading. Azumi's out there in the fields stuffing crops into bags—if you want to trade glamorous chores."
"I'm on it."
"Wait—before you go," Geo said, reaching into the cart. He held up a cloth mask, half-finished. "Correna was working on this for you. She didn't know what to use for your symbol, so it's blank for now. Said to tell you to stop by when you've made up your mind."
Tsuki took the mask, running her thumb over the smooth stitching.
My symbol?
She sat in thought for a moment before she gazed back at Geo. For the first time, she noticed how warm his smile was.
Has his smile always been like that?
"Thanks," she said, cheeks coloring slightly.
Geo continued. "No rush. Just… pick something that suits you. The APC's gonna tag you by it one day, so make sure it's not something dumb."
"I wouldn't dare," she said with mock offense, giving him a thumbs-up.
They laughed together, the air between them lighter than it had been in days.
Shortly after, Tsuki drifted through the fields. A sharp voice echoed from behind some vegetable crates.
"Damn this stupid job. Knoxx can get his ass back here or I swear—"
"Azumi!" Tsuki called out. "I'm here to help!"
Azumi whipped around, eyes lighting up. "Tsuki! Please, take this basket before I snap it in half."
Tsuki jogged over. "Sure thing."
Azumi wiped her brow dramatically. "Knoxx said he'd be back to help but ditched me over an hour ago."
"He's with Geo—at least, Geo said he was earlier."
"Stupid Knoxx," she muttered, then smirked. "Well, you're way better company anyway."
Tsuki blinked. "What?"
"Hmm?" Azumi responded, acting oblivious.
"Nothing," she said quickly, unable to suppress a grin.
They worked side-by-side; the sweat and effort of the job softened by constant chatter and laughter. As they loaded the last bags into the cart, Tsuki found herself smiling more than she had in months.
Azumi… she's becoming a real friend. Something Tsuki hadn't expected. Not here, not now.
Back at the carts, Geo waved as they returned. "You finished fast!"
Knoxx appeared from behind a wagon and spotted Azumi. Without a word, he turned on his heel to escape.
"Knoxx!" Azumi bellowed. "Get your ass back here!"
He sprinted off, Azumi chasing after him in a storm of insults.
Tsuki watched them disappear, chuckling. "Well… there go two of our helpers."
Geo scratched the back of his head. "Guess it's just us."
They returned to work, lifting bags from cart to cart.
"So," Tsuki asked, "what's the plan for tomorrow?"
Geo paused to think. "Still being finalized. From what I've heard, we're scaling the Zimala Wall before sunrise. Midday's too exposed, and night patrols switch out around 3 a.m.—that's our best shot."
Tsuki stacked a handful of newly picked veggies in a quarter-full cart. "Makes sense. Night shifts are brutal in the APC. I remember patrols lasting twelve hours straight. By the end, everyone's half asleep."
Geo nodded grimly. "We'll need that edge. Zimala's loyal to the Council—most civilians there see us as terrorists. Resistance is going to be heavy."
Tsuki gave him a dry look. "You think?"
Geo chuckled. "Right… I forgot you've got history."
They both laughed, a more common occurrence now. Elsewhere, another meeting was beginning as the sun began its descent over Persetta.
In a grand council chamber lined with black marble, the towering figure of Chaze knelt before the high seat of Lord Hoshuro.
"This Ghost," Hoshuro growled, "continues to slaughter our highest officers. We've lost five in two weeks, Chaze. Five."
Chaze kept his head bowed. "Yes, my lord."
"We've had to create an entirely new category for him in the threat index. You realize how absurd that is? Men retreat when he appears. Entire squads vanish. I'm getting a feeling about him, and I hope I'm wrong."
Chaze's voice dipped into a hiss. "His power is… unnatural. Solena manipulation of that level—those Gates of Alden as he calls them—are beyond classification."
Hoshuro's voice rose. "He makes us look weak. I will not have the people of Alden questioning our control. Find him. Eliminate him."
"Yes, my lord. He will die by my hand. I won't fail you."
"See that you don't."
Chaze rose, licking his lips as he turned toward the chamber doors. His boots cracked across the polished floor as he exited. Once gone, Hoshuro turned to the other councilmen.
"We've already lost Galion. Persetta too. We're being overrun."
Shiki shifted uncomfortably. "Persetta—"
"Don't," Hoshuro cut him off. "Save your excuses. Under your watch, Memento doubled in size. We face not a nuisance, but a war. One where ability users are carving out independent territories. This rebellion must be crushed."
He slammed his fist against the council table. "It's time to strike."
The others followed suit, pounding the table in unison.
Later that night, in the Memento briefing tent, Maro stood at the center of the war table, flanked by Judgment Squad and two other elite teams. Maps were pinned to walls, lit by lanterns swinging gently in the warm breeze.
"This is it," Maro began, voice steady. "At 0300 tomorrow morning, we begin the assault on Zimala. Our target is the outer wall."
He tapped a section on the map.
"We'll use grappling hooks to scale undetected. Once on top, squads will split—some through trapdoors to neutralize guards, others to secure the wall lever and open the front gate for reinforcements."
The room was tense but focused.
"After that, we take the city street by street. Positions will be relayed on the fly. But remember this—this isn't just another mission."
Maro's gaze swept over them.
"This is where history splits, before the invasion and after. The APC thinks Zimala is untouchable. We'll show them otherwise."
The squads roared with approval.
Maro gave a final nod. "Rest well. Tomorrow, we make history."
As the camp dimmed, Tsuki returned to her tent, but something tugged at her mind.
My symbol. I forgot!
She pivoted and made for Correna's tent, catching her just before bed, knitting by lantern light.
"Correna!" Tsuki called softly. "You still up?"
Correna looked up with warmth in her eyes. "Always. What's on your mind?"
"I have an idea for my trademark. I think I want… a split mask. Black and white."
Correna's eyes sparkled. "Ooh, symbolic. Let me guess—the pristine white of the APC, the black for the shadows of Memento?"
Tsuki smiled. "Something like that."
"Got it. I'll finish it tonight. I'm not going on the mission anyway—combat's not really my thing. This'll keep me busy."
"Thank you, Correna. Really." Tsuki's voice softened more than she intended.
"Don't mention it," Correna said, returning to her work. "Now, go grab some sleep."
Tsuki reached for the flap and opened it. "Sure thing."
As Tsuki left, the sounds of the camp grew quieter. The stars shimmered like sparks of courage, watching from their eternal perch.
She returned to her tent and curled beneath her blanket. Sleep came easily.
Morning wouldn't.