Exiting the conference room, Maeve lingered beside the door for a moment before slowly leaning back against it. She rested her head against the cold metal surface and closed her eyes, as her thoughts drifted to the state of Falcon Scott.
The city was straining under the pressure not just of the siege, but of all the civilians that had been packed into the buildings behind its walls. Every passing day brought more civilians, more wounded, more fear – and fewer resources to answer any of it.
And through it all, the members of the House of Night had been working themselves to exhaustion.
Especially the Nightwalkers.
They moved constantly across the waves.
Protect the convoys.
Kill the aquatic Nightmare Creatures approaching Falcon Scott from beneath the waves.
Protect the civilians.
And all of it to keep pace with the Government's projected evacuation schedule.
A schedule that grew more unrealistic with each passing day.
Maeve slowly opened her eyes again, staring silently down the vacant corridor.
'When did it start to feel less like we are evacuating a city… and more like trying to outrun the end of the world.'
About to step away from the door, Maeve jumped as a loud bang resounded from within the conference room, followed by Cor's voice; despite barely raising his voice, the Government Saint's voice easily pierced through the room's walls.
"Enough."
Jumping back from the door, Maeve waited to see if there would be any more loud noises.
'Actually, if those two are butting heads. I'd rather not be here at all.'
Maeve turned on her heels and hurried down the corridor, her footsteps echoing sharply through the otherwise quiet hall. She only slowed once she reached the elevator, exhaling softly as she came to a stop before the closed doors.
A moment later, the elevator gave a soft ding and slid open.
It wasn't long until the elevator opened again, letting Maeve out on the ground floor of the Government building.
There was a not-so-subtle sense of worry on the face of every person she passed by on her way out of the building. It was not only the members of the House of Night who were working themselves to the bone. Every servant of the Government was giving everything they had, day after day – from the famed Irregulars and veteran Ascended, down to the ordinary soldiers with no supernatural power whatsoever, men and women who still stood against the endless tide of Nightmare Creatures despite every reason saying they should be cowering behind the very walls they fought and died to protect.
Exiting the building, Maeve breathed in the frigid Antarctic air. Almost immediately, a powerful gust of wind swept past her, biting through her clothes and causing her to clutch the documents against her chest a little tighter.
She puffed out a warm breath into the freezing air before beginning toward the massive elevator platform that led down to the ships.
There was a large crowd already gathered around it. Those desperate to escape Falcon Scott always congregated around the elevators when the House of Night was allowing boarding.
Hundreds of people stood packed together beneath floodlights and drifting snow, all waiting for their chance to board one of the evacuation ships crossing the strait toward Eastern Antarctica. Soldiers barked orders to keep lines organised while exhausted civilians huddled together against the cold, their breath rising into the night like smoke.
Seeing the sheer number of people gathered there, Maeve slowed.
Then quietly changed her mind.
'Guess I'll be taking the scenic route.'
Turning away from the elevator platform, she instead followed the pathway running along the cliff face. One hand rested lightly against the frost-covered railing as she walked, her gaze drifting outward across the dark ocean below.
It fell across the bridge full of the desperate people, the ships which were growing increasingly packed with people, it wouldn't be long until they would have to turn people away, send them back to their homes as the ships began moving toward Eastern Antarctica.
Then Maeve's gaze lowered toward the waves themselves. Or rather – toward something resting beneath them.
A faint smile touched her lips.
'Enough dawdling, time to go see father.'
Stepping back from the railing, Maeve took a slow breath before exhaling softly into the cold air.
Then she leaned away from the railing, falling backwards, but the moment she was about to collide with the snow-covered stone, she sank through it as a pebble dropped into water, disappearing into the rock as snow rippled outward from where her body vanished.
It was always a strange sensation, moving through solid matter.
The cliff remained stone–dense and unyielding. Except in the immediate space surrounding Maeve's body, where it flowed around her like water slipping past a swimmer. Every movement sent subtle ripples through the rock, the solid surface bending and parting only for her before seamlessly closing behind her once more.
Maeve continued sinking downward through the cliff face, navigating by memory alone. She had long since memorised the structure of this section of coastline, knowing exactly how far she needed to descend before reaching the level of the beach below.
The moment she reached the correct depth, Maeve shifted her body forward.
The stone parted before her, and a second later, she emerged smoothly from the cliff face and stepped out onto the sandy Antarctic beach below, icy waves crashing against the shore only a short distance away.
Maeve tucked the documents into the crook of her arm as she walked toward the shoreline, black sand crunching softly beneath her boots.
Raising her right hand, blue sparks began twisting through the air around her fingers before flowing inward, gathering within her palm in spiralling streams of light.
As the freezing seawater reached her ankles, the sparks condensed.
A dagger formed in her grasp. Simple in shape, primitive, almost. The blade looked as though it had been carved from the long tooth of some enormous predator, its pale surface smooth and unnaturally sharp.
Without hesitation, Maeve turned the dagger and pressed the edge lightly against her palm.
A shallow cut opened across her dark skin. Closing her fist, she held her hand out over the foaming water.
Several drops of blood fell into the sea below.
And for a moment, nothing happened.
The waves continued rolling against the shore in dark blue currents beneath the night sky.
Then something changed about the water; a dark crimson spread from beyond the beach. Until the water surrounding Maeve looked as if a large beast had been bled for all its worth. And as suddenly as it had appeared, the crimson vanished from the waters, leaving them clear once more.
Dismissing the dagger, Maeve shifted the documents into her good hand as she waited in silence, with only the sound of the waves to keep her company.
Then – something broke the surface.
A massive, armoured fin breached the water first. The ocean surged outward in its wake, scattering foam and spray across the shoreline.
It moved closer.
And with it, more of the creature became visible.
A colossal form – sleek, powerful, unmistakably predatory. Maeve could faintly see the creature in the light cast by Falcon Scott's lights. The black-and-white hide of a killer whale cut through the water.
But as it reached the shallows, something changed.
The monstrous shape began to glow faintly from within, light spreading across its body. The immense form folded inward upon itself, shrinking, reshaping until, where the killer whale had been, there now stood a man.
He stepped forward through the shallow water as if it weren't even there, each movement unbothered by the waves parting around his legs. His skin was a smooth, deep ebony, and his hair was a stark, perfect white that contrasted sharply against the dark night.
His expression was immediately annoyed.
He fixed Maeve with a long, unimpressed stare as he continued walking out of the water toward her.
Maeve raised the hand she had cut, giving the man a soft wave.
"Hello father, I thought you would like to know my meeting with Jet went well. Everything is proceeding along Command's schedule."
Maeve's father was none other than one of the House of Night's Saints – Bloodwave.
Holding out his hand, Bloodwave began summoning a memory in his other hand. Maeve rested the hand she had cut on her palm up in his hand. Looking at her palm, Bloodwave shook his head.
"If you wanted my attention, there are far easier ways."
A waterskin appeared in Bloodwave's off hand, flicking the cork off with his thumb. Maeve poured the contents of the waterskin over Maeve's palm, and the skin slowly began to heal. Taking her hand back, Maeve rubbed the healed skin with her fingers.
Looking at Bloodwave, she smiled.
"There might be easier ways, but this way is most definitely the fastest."
Shaking his head, Bloodwave took the documents from Maeve, quickly glancing over them.
His eyes narrowed.
"Something wrong?"
Maeve asked, leaning in to look at the page Bloodwave was currently reading.
Bloodwave slowly shook his head, his expression turning unreadable.
"It's nothing. I was just surprised at how many civilians there are still filtering into Falcon Scott after all this time."
Crossing her arms, Maeve shivered slightly.
"I hear the convoy being guided by Sunless will be reaching us any day now… Even more people for us to evacuate. That's going to throw a spanner in the works and put us behind schedule."
Maeve muttered.
Bloodwave studied her silently for a moment, crimson seawater shifting lazily around his ankles as the freezing wind swept across the shore.
"The Irregulars have performed admirably during this crisis, far better than most expected."
He said at last, his deep voice carrying easily over the crashing waves, a faint frown touched his features.
"Though it is unfortunate some of them have fallen."
Maeve's expression dimmed slightly.
The Antarctic Campaign had not been kind to anyone.
Bloodwave's gaze settled on her again.
"Have you heard anything regarding Lauri's progress?"
Maeve slowly shook her head.
"No, I don't know where he is right now."
She admitted quietly, her eyes drifted out toward the dark ocean for a moment.
"…But I hope he's safe."
----
Within the Rhino's living space, Lauri sat quietly eating from a steaming bowl of soup when he suddenly sneezed.
Vick spoke without even glancing up from her book.
"Bless you."
Rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, Lauri let out a small breath through his nose.
Across from him, Sansa looked up over a spoonful of stew.
"My mom always used to say a random sneeze means someone's thinking about you."
"You think so?"
A faint smile tugged at Lauri's lips as he looked down into his bowl.
"Hopefully they're saying nice things."