Madlands

26. Fate

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She wouldn't head to Naida. The thought of watching, of listening, as the people of the village learned about the fate of Cereda was unbearable.

Instead, she would walk into nothingness until she collapsed. Or perhaps, as the Rinian folktales described, one of the glass pools might turn to liquid as she stepped onto it, and she could sink into its depths while it sealed back up above her.

She had failed in every sense.

A lifetime of piecing together fragments of clues but never seeing what they added up to. Never uncovering the abhorrent truth, that the loss of Scoken, Liax, and Trell had been intentional—the Empire's failed attempt, or exploratory project, to more easily extract the resources from defenceless worlds. Her life's mission had all been a waste.

She'd failed on Cereda. How could she have left the base, not knowing if their efforts had been enough? Maybe if she'd doubled back, returned to the control room, she could have done more. The rest of her team had had the grace to succumb to a shared fate with the moon.

And now she would fail to avenge the evil. Kayliff's data-key—holding the proof of the Empire's deeds and given to her in knowing anticipation of his self-sacrifice—was gone. Her satchel had torn, at some point in the caverns after she'd fled from the silo, and the few things she'd carried were currently melting along with the ruins of whole communities.

There was no point in walking, in climbing these hills, in stumbling down these ridges, except that the idea of sitting still felt even more inconceivable.

As she breached the top of a steep rise, her fate was revealed—four Troopers and their speeders stood ready, as if waiting for her. She fell to her knees. Finally.

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