Kinsley and I were going to need to have a conversation about making the orders she gave her men more flexible.

Not far into region five, traffic backed up to an excessive degree, forcing us to go on foot. Emphasis on us. Ditching Grit and Ire was impossible. When they’d stubbornly refused to let me forge out on my own, I’d convinced them that escorting me around region five in full paramilitary gear was asking for trouble, and they’d ditched the kevlar and helmets, left their rifles in the car in lieu of the handguns they open-carried on their hips.

They still wore gray and white camo pants, but those blended well enough with the general populace. Ever since the transposition, there was a lot of McMilitary wear going around, even if the typical woodland composite didn’t do shit in an urban environment.

I caught sight of them in a reflection of a rear view, doing a not-particularly subtle job of tailing me through the packed area.

If you’ve ever been to Dallas, you know the city’s aesthetic is fairly drab. A menagerie of whites, grays, dark greens, and chrome. Downtown was always the exception, specifically around Deep Ellum at night, where the grays and greens give way to a far wider selection of colorful buildings embellished with neon lights. It’s not Vegas, but at the same time, it’s not Dallas either. But only at night.

Region five, which now fully encompassed that neighborhood, brought the colorful nature of the city into the light of day for the first time.

There were banners and streamers everywhere, multi-colored confetti scattered across the ground. Gray, multi-composite storefronts spray-painted in a collage of primary colors that grew more vivid the closer you got to the tower. People—average people—celebrated around grills, air filled with the scent of spiced meat. A bare-chested man in a chrome mask and oddly floral skirt handed me a flyer that read: Destiny.

The Midsommar vibes were off the charts.

If it wasn’t for the combination of Born Nihilist and Jaded Eye, I might have fled. Nothing that looked this good ever was, and the celebratory feel in the face of the recent cataclysm set my teeth on edge.

I climbed the stairs of an elevated walkway that crossed over the backed-up highway and paused at its center, studying the surroundings of the now in view tower for the first time.

The massive construction was colossal, most of its surface covered in a shimmering layer of gold so reflective it was difficult to look at. But I didn’t care how the tower looked. I needed to see how it functioned in the region's context.

And what I saw raised more questions than answers.

There was a long queue, hundreds of people long. Brass stanchions lined with velvet ropes were arranged in a square maze, trailing a meandering path towards the tower’s golden gates. There was a squad of Users at the tower’s entrance in heavy gear, covered in a plethora of silver particles and blue, barely visible force field bubbles. By far the most heavily armed and well-equipped security I’d ever seen.

Next to the main queue was a much shorter line. Unlike the bedraggled Users moving at a snail’s pace in the square maze, this line moved freely. Users dressed in vivid colors that I’d identified as a hallmark of region five apparel were ushered quickly through the shortcut.

I frowned. Nothing about it felt right, but I was starting to think this wasn’t the simple, sinister honey trap I’d assumed it to be.

Something sharp and metal pressed gently against my throat. My eyes widened at the feeling of the dagger. The attack itself wasn’t particularly surprising, but the absolute lack of warning was. Grit and Ire had taken up positions on either end of the walkway and hadn’t messaged. Even hadn’t given me a heads up.

I kept still, but didn’t bother raising my hands. “You got me.” I said, monotone.

“Looks like the security team could use some work,” Miles said.

I turned to face him, letting the blade slide harmlessly across my neck. “There a point to this?”

Miles bounced the tip of his dagger off my shoulder before he sheathed it in a smooth motion. “If I get to you this easily, Myrddin sure as hell can.”

Judging from the circles under his eyes, Miles hadn’t slept much, either.

I smiled thinly. “Where’s this sudden, uncharacteristic concern for my well-being coming from?”

Miles grimaced, as if someone had stuck a finger in a festering wound. “You call me out here to gloat?”

I turned from him, leaning back over the walkway railing. Ellison haunted my thoughts as he had since the clash at the penthouse, leading me to the same inevitable conclusions. If held back from the conspiracy rabbit hole and took everything that happened at face value, accepting that Ellison had extensive knowledge of the future and believing—based on his comments on Iris—that he was acting in a benevolent capacity, the implications presented serious problems.

First, he’d withheld everything from us, despite knowing what was coming. Shouting it to the rooftops would have been his first course. Even if me and the rest of the family hadn’t fully believed him, he could have convinced us to leave the outskirts of the city for a short time before the dome went up.

Only, he hadn’t. Which meant that leaving either delayed the inevitable, or somehow put us in a distinctly worse situation. Given the meteors and multiple dome situation the Ordinator implied, that was believable enough.

Ellison was smart. He learned from his mistakes, and he didn’t break easily. There was no doubt in my mind that he was actively planning a solution, tweaking it with every iteration. If he was repeating this same situation over and over, it was almost a given.

Which led to the problem. The rift he’d created between us. He’d gone everything short of nuclear to simultaneously hurt me and back me into a very specific corner, where I had little option other than to leave him alone. If he hadn’t interfered at the penthouse, I’d likely still be camped in that corner, spread too thin to fully commit to watching a family member who’d made it irrevocably clear he wanted nothing to do with me.

That meant, whatever his solution, he couldn’t deal me in, because something undesirable happened if he did. Best-case scenario, it changed the future in a way that undercut his ability to make predictions. Worst case, I ended up working in opposition to him and created more problems than the help I could offer was worth.

Maybe I couldn’t stomach whatever it was he was planning.

Maybe it was worse than that.

Either way, it was hard to imagine and difficult to dwell on.

And if the initial premise was true—that Ellison needed me to remain outside the loop—this repeat was more or less botched. His actions at the penthouse threw that out the window. It didn’t matter how many times he’d done this, the way his identity was revealed—a near headshot that shattered an eye in his mask—was too risky to be repeatable. Even with a power designed to make the unlikely and borderline impossible possible, I’m not sure I would have risked it.

So where did we go from here?

“Do you believe in fate?” I asked Miles.

Miles snorted. “That’s what you called me here out of the blue to talk about. Fate.”

“Just answer the question.”

There were near silent footsteps as Miles took a place next to me. He’d sheathed the short blade but kept a hand on it. “If predestination exists, I’d have a lot of questions about the way things are. Way they were, even. Long before the dome. Exactly what sort of ends justifies the means.”

“So no, then.”

He shook his head. “Nah. I think I’m more comfortable believing we’re all just grains of sand in the face of the universe. The alternative is too cruel to fathom.”

“That was my thought, as well.”

Before last night.

“Was?” Miles asked.

I crooked my head sideways to look at him. Miles glanced away. Good. He was still feeling guilty. “I might not believe in fate, but I believe in patterns.”

“What sort of patterns?”

“That in times of great strife, there are two groups of people. Bystanders, and movers and shakers.”

“Putting yourself in that group, I’m betting.” Miles said. He didn’t roll his eyes, but I could hear it in his voice. He probably thought I was about to tell him off for putting my family in danger, maybe even threaten him.

“Not just me. We’re both entrenched in this. Even if I brought everything to Tyler and did everything in my power to ruin you, I doubt it would take. Your people are too useful and well-connected to waste, despite the misfire.”

“And as the man who saved an entire region, and is the only living person we know of who fought Myrddin and won, you’re mostly untouchable.” Miles mused.

“That being said, I have a proposal. With fine print.”

This felt like cheating. I already knew Miles had no short-term plans to pursue me. He’d said as much to Hawkins, in the small snippet of his life I’d spied on. But there was a serious advantage in being the first to offer an olive branch.

“I’m listening,” Miles prompted.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m fucking angry. You and your people dredged up shit that’s haunted me for years. Put my family in danger. Showed up late enough to the party that it almost killed me.” I let the words hang. Miles shoved his hands in his pockets. I waited until it looked like he was ready to walk away. “But we live in uncertain times. So why don’t we skip the over the part where I’m angry with you? Where I freeze you out for weeks over the stunt you pulled and create obstructions between you and the Adventurer’s and Merchant’s Guilds—”

“—And deny our market access?” Miles poked. Good, he’d already noticed that Kinsley had locked him and the rest of the feds out of the market since last night.

I ignored the jab and forged on. “We also skip the part where we posture and snipe at each other, feeling out weaknesses before the dawn of a larger threat inevitably forces us to work together.”

“Just skip straight to cooperation.” Miles said flatly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Yup.”

Miles looked down, then suddenly barked a laugh. “You’re unpredictable, I’ll give you that. Though given the context, suspending market access feels suspiciously like posturing.”

“That was last night.”

“What changed?” Miles asked. He gave me that piercing stare again, the one that felt like it could see straight through me.

“I ate breakfast.”

Miles snorted. “Okay. Fine. I assume you didn’t choose this location for the ambience?”

I studied the queue in front of the Region Five tower. There was a churro vendor walking the perimeter of the line, exchanging the sugared pastries for selve.

“Spent much time here?”

“None.” Miles admitted. “Though I’ve heard things through the grapevine.”

“Then we’re on the same page. I came here expecting a simple honeypot—Region five draws in outsiders to die in their dungeon, gain power, or experience, or items in exchange.”

“Our first thought as well. It could still be that.” Miles looked out over the crowded plaza, his mouth tightening. “But from everything I’ve heard, that doesn’t track. There are level recommendations for floors. Multiple safeguards in place to keep people from wandering into areas they’re not ready for. The few casualties were cases of bullheaded Users blatantly ignoring those warnings and getting themselves killed. From the reports, you’re far more likely to die wandering into a random dungeon than you are entering the tower.”

My eyes wandered to the sign above the entry to the main queue.

TWENTY FIVE SELVE ENTRY-FEE. NO EXCEPTIONS. NON-REFUNDABLE.

“Which begs the question, why are they charging so little? A safe-ish place to level and gear up? That fee is a pittance.” Miles noted.

“They want Users. As many as they can get. But they also want them alive. We’re missing something.” I noted a couple entering the priority queue. A man in civilian clothes, with a woman in a sundress in tow, holding a basket between them.

Miles followed my gaze. “Safe enough for a recreational jaunt. The lower floors, at least.”

There was a sudden commotion at the exit. The group of battle-ready Users moved swiftly, rotating from the entrance towards the source of the noise, a man in gaudy looking plate that looked straight out of a high-fantasy novel. He’d bowled over an attendant at the exit line, and was now frozen in place, his armor outlined in white.

“What the hell?” Miles muttered.

The armored guard from the front placed a sword against his neck, while a mage readied a massive looking spell behind him. Though otherwise frozen, the frozen User was loud enough that I could make out snippets of his ranting.

“Fucking crooks… Everything I found… paid… fee.”

From the way his shoulders were moving, the wizard was responding, albeit in a much more controlled voice.

Behind them, a tent-like tarp covered the exit line. A woman exited and withdrew items out of the man’s inventory, placing them into a black and gold box that held far more than it appeared capable of. She pulled a sword from his inventory, along with a series of glowing rocks and a handful of gems, then ran a wand across the man’s body. She reached in the pocket of his belt and withdrew an amulet that housed a massive diamond, placing it in the box, then brought the box back into the tented queue.

The man blustered for a while, yelling obscenities, until the woman returned, dumping the box onto the concrete in clear-view of the main line. The man gathered his findings, eyebrows furrowed, clearly looking to see if anything was missing and finding, with some puzzlement, that it was all accounted for, including the expensive looking amulet. He gave the mage and armored guard the finger as he walked away.

“Remind you of anything?” Miles asked quietly.

“TSA.” I said immediately. The rout motions, the way they’d scanned him with the wand, resembled security at the airport.

Miles put his back to the retaining wall. “What if we’ve got it backward?”

The last piece clicked into place.

“They’re cataloguing everything that comes out but not taking anything. The point isn’t luring Users into the dungeon.” I realized. “The Users are a means to an end.”

“From the look of it, the tower is huge. Too big for one region to do all the groundwork.” Miles agreed. “And unless that amulet was very convincing costume jewelry, they’re not skimming just anything off the top.”

“No.” I shook my head. “People hate being ripped off more than almost anything else. Word would spread quickly.”

Miles’ expression lit up. “Which means—”

“They’re looking for something specific. Something they haven’t found yet.” I finished. “Something potentially powerful enough to justify charging next to nothing for entry in order to crowd-fund the search.”

Another wave of people pushed through the exit flap, revealing a row of identical black-and-gold boxes on metal tables before the canvas material covered the exit once more.

“Should we get a closer look?” Miles asked. Going into the dungeon was a logical next step, but there was something off about the question. It felt loaded, somehow.

Miles was testing me.

“Go together to a second location in neutral territory, away from prying eyes. Just you and me?” I crossed my arms and stared at him.

With a long sigh, Miles shook his head. “Even if we’re skipping the stupid part. It’s going to take a while to build trust.”

An idea struck me. I’d intended to spend my evening this way, regardless. One last moment of levity before everything with the suits kicked into full gear. Adding Miles into the mix didn’t really cost me anything. “Putting the tower aside for the moment. Why don’t we start with a team building exercise?”

Miles laughed, cutting the mirth off early when he realized I wasn’t joking. “Like… a trust fall?”

I reached in my inventory and withdrew a flight charm, dangling the thin chain with a cherub wing in front of him. “Of a sort.”