The stolen skiff howled, its twin thrusters screaming against the predawn wind. Mezri gripped the controls, knuckles white, the flat plains of Pelagosa blurring beneath. Pip, nestled in the co-pilot’s seat, trilled a low, worried note, its copper scales vibrating with the machinery's tremor. The air was a metallic tang, a bitter contrast to the sweet, earthy scents of the farm she’d just fled. Overhead, the smog-choked horizon of Cinderspur, a bruised purple bruise, slowly expanded into view. Then, the first tell-tale glint in her rearview screen. Two hover-bikes, dark silhouettes against the faint morning light, rapidly closing the distance. Syndicate hounds. She cursed under her breath, pulling the flight yoke back, sending the craft into a steep climb. The bikes, sleek and predatory, mirrored her move, their exhaust pipes roaring a hungry echo. Mezri swerved, dodging a volley of crimson energy blasts that sizzled past her viewport. She pushed the throttle harder, weaving through a cluster of ancient, petrified spires that dotted the landscape. Each turn was a gamble, the ground rushing up alarmingly close before she corrected. Pip chirped frantically, its single optic scanning the encroaching threats. Another shot grazed her starboard wing, sending sparks showering across the hull. The craft bucked. “Not today, you bastards,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing. She knew the landscape, knew the old smuggling routes. A sharp dive into a shallow canyon, hugging the rock face, forcing the bikes to follow in a tighter formation. Suddenly, the lead hover-bike sputtered, spitting black smoke. It veered wildly, colliding with the canyon wall in a shower of sparks and mangled metal. The second bike, caught unawares, struggled to compensate, its repulsorlifts flickering erratically before it too lost control, spiraling into the wreckage of its companion. Silence, save for the distant echoes of their demise, descended on the canyon. Mezri blinked, easing her grip on the controls. Too easy. Too sudden. It wasn't her doing. Unease prickled the back of her neck. Someone else had intervened. Her comm unit buzzed, a single, encrypted ping. Pip’s optic glowed brighter, projecting a line of text onto the console: `// NOT. AGAIN. //`. Then another: `// TRACKING. STAY. ALIVE. //` Kevral. The Butcher. He had seen her leave, and he was coming. A strange, fierce warmth ignited in her chest, chasing away the metallic tang of fear. It was a foolish, reckless thing for him to do, but a part of her, a raw, exposed nerve, thrummed with a longing she couldn’t suppress. The terrain transitioned from the spires to the more volatile, bio-engineered rural territories. Twisted, bulbous flora pulsed with faint internal light, their roots burrowing into the nutrient-rich, manufactured soil. Her skiff zipped over vast stretches of genetically modified grain, the stalks taller than buildings, creating an eerie, shifting labyrinth beneath. The air grew heavier, thick with the smell of ozone and industrial effluent. She spotted the outer gates of Cinderspur: monumental ferrocrete structures, scarred by centuries of acid rain and conflict. Patrol sentinels, squat and heavily armed, lined the perimeter, their optical sensors sweeping the skies. Mezri knew the blind spots, the old smugglers’ path that dipped below the main radar grid. She pitched the skiff into a steep, low-altitude approach, skimming inches above the bio-engineered fields, making herself a difficult target. Alarms blared as she shot through a narrow gap between two ancient, crumbling gate towers. Energy barriers flared, but she was already past them, a phantom through the breach. The roar of her thrusters echoed off the grimy, soaring walls of the city’s industrial periphery. She was back in the belly of the beast. A shadow fell over her cockpit, not from the towering city structures, but from directly above. A sleek, stolen glider, its turbines a low thrum, descended rapidly. Before Mezri could react, a figure dropped from its undercarriage. Kevral. He landed with a jarring thump directly behind her, his powerful arms encircling her waist, pulling her back against his chest. The wind tore at his dark coat, whipping his hair. His voice, rough and urgent, cut through the rush of air. “You weren’t getting rid of me that easily, Canto!”

Encrypted Heartbeats