The "Eye of the Mountain" was a natural stone balcony that hung over the deepest part of the cloud-sea. Usually, it was off-limits, but for the finale of the Blue Surge, the village elders opened the gates.

  "There! Look!" Grace pointed as the first shell whistled upward.

  The firework didn't just pop; it bloomed like a giant, neon-blue flower against the pitch-black sky. The light washed over them, turning the snow beneath their boots into a field of sapphires.

  In that sudden, brilliant flash, Grace turned her head. The blue light caught the curve of Mable’s face, making her eyes look like two deep, clear oceans. Mable had a quiet grace that seemed to settle the air around her. She looked back at Grace, and for a heartbeat, neither of them looked away.

  Grace gave her a smile—not her usual cocky grin, but something softer, something that said I’ve got you. She reached out and took Mable’s hand, her palm warm against the chill. Mable didn't pull away; she leaned her head against Grace’s shoulder, her golden hair caught in the wind.

  On Grace’s other side, Caleb stood with his hands in his pockets, a content smile on his face. He watched the sparks fall into the clouds, feeling, for the first time since leaving the Basin, that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

  "I could get used to this," Caleb murmured.

  "Don't get too soft, caleb," Grace teased, though she didn't let go of Mable's hand.

  Below them, on the main plaza, the crowd was a sea of laughing faces.

  "Grace! Mable! Caleb"

  Marin stood by one of the massive support pillars of the Tech-Tier, waving them down. Elara was beside him, wrapped in a heavy wool shawl, looking tired but happy. Sarah and Thomas were there too with Caleb’s grandparents , sharing a thermos of spiced cider.

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  "We’re heading to the Observation Deck for the late show," Marin called out as the kids jogged down the stairs to meet them. "The crowds are too thick down here. Find us there after the final volley, alright? Section four, near the glass."

  "We know the spot, Dad!" Grace shouted back, already being swept away by a group of kids running toward the game stalls.

  "Stay together!" Elara’s voice trailed off as the music swelled again.

  The final volley began. It was supposed to be a sequence of twelve golden bursts, the traditional "Dawning" of the new year.

  The first three went up as planned. Whistle. Boom. Whistle. Boom.

  But the fourth whistle sounded different. It wasn't the high-pitched shriek of a firework; it was the low, guttural roar of a pressurized engine.

  The sky didn't turn golden. It turned a jagged, sickly orange.

  A massive explosion rocked the northern rim of the Heights. The stone beneath Grace’s feet didn't just vibrate—it buckled. She felt the shockwave hit her chest like a physical punch, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

  "Ace!" Mable screamed, stumbling as the ground tilted.

  Grace caught her, her eyes darting upward. The fireworks were still going off, but they were being swallowed by plumes of black, oily smoke. Another roar followed, closer this time, and a section of the upper transit-way collapsed, raining jagged stone and metal onto the screaming crowd below.

  The music stopped instantly. It was replaced by a sound Grace had never heard before: the shrieking of tearing metal and the frantic, high-pitched wail of the village sirens.

  "That wasn't a firework," Caleb whispered, his face ghostly pale in the flickering orange light.

  The temperature plummeted. The magical warmth of the Luma-pipes died in an instant, replaced by a biting, unnatural frost that smelled of chemicals and burnt meat.

  "The Observation Deck," Grace gasped, her grip tightening on Mable’s hand until her knuckles turned white. Her eyes turned toward the north, where the glass-walled deck stood.

  A second explosion ripped through that very section.

  "Mom? Dad?" Mable’s voice was small, lost in the rising tide of screams.

  Grace didn't answer. She couldn't. She just looked at the fire where her parents were supposed to be, her obsidian eyes reflecting a world that was tearing itself apart.

  "Run," Grace commanded, her voice suddenly cold and sharp. "Caleb, grab her other hand. We have to run!"