The guild transport rumbled across broken terrain, its wheels grinding against stone and ash. The sky above was a pale, washed-out grey. The air was cold and thin, carrying the faint scent of dust and ancient decay.
Nathan sat near the front, Moonlight across his knees, the Tyrant's Eye swirling with quiet anticipation. His party was scattered through the transport—Garrett checking his equipment for the fifth time, Dillon dozing with Cloudy coiled around his neck, Elise reviewing the Tower World research on her interface. Smithy sat near the back, his Void Eel drifting at his feet, his expression thoughtful.
The question had been nagging at Nathan since the briefing. Smithy was a former Court operative. He'd participated in the Cleansing's early stages, helped coordinate operations, known about the murders and the collapses. And yet he was here—free, unguarded, part of the expedition. Not in a TCA cell.
