Sometimes, the only way to keep a fire from spreading is to pour ash on it.
Dead ash. Cold ash. The kind that chokes.
That's what it felt like—talking peace with people who didn't want peace.
But we had to try.
The Hollow were killing silently.
The League was retaliating loudly.
And in between, the Divide was bleeding from both sides.
Civilian zones were on edge. People with powers were being arrested on sight. Rogue graffiti covered street signs. League drones now hovered above playgrounds.
Everything was fraying.
And the fractures were getting deeper.
It was Delryn who suggested the idea.
"There are still people out there," she said. "On the fringes. Brokers. Diplomats. Fence-walkers. They don't take sides. They manage fallout."
"Why haven't we heard from them before?" I asked.
"Because until now," she said, "we weren't worth it."
She made the calls through coded backchannels.
We waited two days for a reply.
Then it came—on paper, tucked into the lining of a dry delivery bag.
One word: "Meet."
A location followed.
Neutral ground.
A warehouse on the docks. Sealed since the last flood.
It was as good as we were going to get.
The Divide didn't go in full force.
Too risky.
Just me, Echo, and Delryn.
Reese protested. "You shouldn't go in person."
"Exactly why I'm going," I said.
"I can do it," he offered.
"You'd do it well," I said, "but this has to come from the face they've already burned onto their walls."
He understood.
Didn't like it.
But understood.
We arrived at dusk.
The warehouse was cold. Empty. Smelled like wet rope and metal rust.
They were already waiting.
Three of them.
One in a tailored coat with a thousand little pins along the collar.
One in League-standard black, though her insignia had been scratched off.
And one in full Rogue armor, helmet off, arms folded.
A triangle of tension.
None of them sat.
Neither did we.
The one with the pins stepped forward first.
"Neutral doesn't mean soft," he said. "We're here because your fight is now spilling onto our turf."
"And we're dying in yours," I replied.
"Then maybe we're both losing," the woman in black said. Her voice was sharp. Clipped. Like someone who'd spent her life issuing orders no one questioned.
The Rogue smiled without humor. "Or maybe one of us is winning slower."
Echo didn't speak.
She just watched.
Studied them.
I knew what she was thinking.
Which one is going to betray us first?
Delryn laid it out.
The transmission from the League.
The Hollow's expanding violence.
The civilian zones caught in the crossfire.
Then me:
"We're not trying to control the city. We're trying to protect it."
"And yet," said the woman in black, "you're building a force."
"Because no one else is."
"Convenient."
I stepped forward. "You think I want this?"
"Everyone wants something."
I met her eyes. "I want the killing to stop. I want a ceasefire. Temporary. Across all zones. Long enough to evacuate the redline neighborhoods and get unpowered families out."
The man with the pins nodded. "And what do we get in return?"
"You don't burn," I said.
The Rogue barked a laugh. "Big words, little leader."
But he didn't walk out.
No one did.
That meant something.
The meeting lasted another hour.
They didn't agree to anything.
But they didn't say no.
Which, in this world, was as close to progress as we'd ever seen.
Outside the warehouse, night had taken over.
Delryn walked ahead, scanning the street.
Echo stayed behind, glancing up at the rooftops.
Something was bothering her.
I could feel it.
"What is it?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
Then she said, "We're being followed."
The shadow stepped into the streetlight two blocks down.
Long coat.
Hands in pockets.
No visible weapon.
But the weight of his stare cut through the space between us.
I stepped forward.
Slow.
Heart already racing.
The face came into view.
Sharp.
Scar down the left cheek.
Eyes I hadn't seen in weeks.
Riven.
Echo stepped beside me, hand glowing.
He held up one finger.
"Talk first," he said. "Then punch me."
I clenched my jaw. "You're dead."
"Almost."
He took another step.
"They left me in the mines. Thought I wouldn't crawl out."
"Shame you did."
"Not the worst thing I've been called."
Delryn returned, frowning hard.
"You've got ten seconds to explain what you want."
Riven looked right at me.
"I know where the Hollow will hit next."
We stared.
He kept talking.
"Not a symbol. Not a warning. A full-scale assault. Big. Flashy. Strategic."
"Why tell us?"
"Because I owe you," he said. "And because what they want to do next makes what happened at Safehouse 3 look like a warning shot."
We brought him back in.
Not to trust him.
Just to listen.
And what he told us?
Changed everything.
"The Hollow don't want Divide dead," he said. "Not yet."
"Then what?" Echo asked.
"They want the Divide to kill the League. To burn itself out in the process. So when the dust clears, all that's left is rubble. And them."
"They're using us as their weapon," I said.
He nodded. "And you're already primed."
"What's the next target?"
He looked at us carefully.
Then said, "Sector Zero."
It was the core League facility.
A vault.
A lab.
A communications nexus.
Guarded by two full squads, three drones, and a perimeter field that hadn't been breached in over four years.
"They want us to go after it?" Delryn asked,"
"No," Riven said. "They're going to do it and make it look like you did."
Silence.
"If that goes down," I whispered, "we lose everything."
"No," Echo said quietly. "We lose everyone."
The Hollow wanted to start the war.
Not between them and us.
Between us and the League.
If they could fake our involvement?
It would be civil war.
One side would come down with tanks.
The other with bombs.
And the world would burn between them.
I turned to Riven.
"Then we stop them."
He nodded.
"But to do that… we'll have to break into Sector Zero before they do."