She moved to the edge of the platform, scrutinized the fields of fires. They were vast. The wreckage spread as far as she could see. It could take ages to search it.

Finding the core, beginning the final process would be easier, faster with help. She called out their names again, but still received no answer. How far could the men have gone? Had they run into the city, into its depths? Worry started to creep in. What if they hadn’t avoided the flying debris? With all this radio interference, how was she going to find where they’d gone?

The answer lay in the snow at her feet. It hadn’t been long, and the destruction of the Macro hadn’t whipped up or melted too much of the ground snow. Kyso and Traejan wore boots; they would leave tracks.

Energized, recovering from her long climb, Althea bounded down the steps to the plaza below, scrutinizing the boot prints in the snow. There were three coming up, then two heading out, then the two split up. More explosions thundered in the distance. She looked up, and was hit by another gust of smoke-filled air. The stinging forced Althea to shut her eyes, cough again.

Once the smoke cleared, she moved around a broken wall, saw the body lying in the snow. A man’s body heavily bundled. Kyso?

Kyso!

She ran toward him, the lone figure lying out in the open; convulsing – shaking. On the dirty snow around him, smoking debris littered the empty boulevard.

As she drew closer, horrible details revealed themselves. Much of his clothing was charred, some of it melted, fused with skin. She could see bubbling, bright blush of his exposed flesh, the burnt hair revealing a vivid red, even black. Radiation burns – from the trilium blast – it could only be from that. Althea fell to her knees. He turned his head towards her, the noise she made; burned eyes couldn’t have seen her. She turned away from the sight of him, looked around; there weren’t any walls for at least a two sixes. He hadn’t protected himself – at all.

Why? Why?!

“Trae?” his cracked, puffy lips barely moved his voice beyond a liquid whisper, a trickle of blood seeped out from his mouth.

Her voice was choked, eyes blurring with tears. Althea kneeled, just a meter from him – unable to take any action, afraid to.

“It hurts, please Trae… Althea?”

“Kyso!” She wiped the tears that began streaming down her cheeks, crawled forwards, kneeling over him, but afraid to touch. She reached into her pockets, emptying them on the ground, trying to find something that would help. She stopped for a moment, projector in her grip – it could stop his pain. She dropped it, trying to find something – anything else.

She found a tiny container of anesthetic spray. It wasn’t much, but it could relieve the pain of his surface burns.

“Oneness,” she breathed, sprayed the liquid liberally over his exposed skin.

“Kyso!” she cried out at him. “What are you doing here?”

He turned his burned face to her, acknowledging the sound of her voice. His beard reduced to burnt stubble, his face looked so much thinner, younger than before.

“I told you to run!” she shouted at him. “To get behind cover!”

He opened his mouth, gasped in a breath.

“I had to see…”

She shook her head furiously.

“You didn’t!” she cried, overwhelmed by anger, grief. He wasn’t supposed to die. She’d made sure the risk was minimal. She had told him what to do. He’d had enough time – enough time!

“You had to survive,” she told him, voice ragged. “I wanted you to live.”

She couldn’t even hope to save him now, clapped a hand over her mouth.

Don’t make the offer. You can’t do it. You can’t do anything for him.

She collapsed into weeping.

“Althea,” Kyso whispered through his cracked lips. “Are… you crying?”