Page 162 of Storm Caller

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It takes only a few hours for word of the Veil’s attack to filter through the city. My father must have alerted everyone the moment I left.

News reports are running around the clock, warning people to stay alert. Every member of the Patrol and the newly formed Border Brigade is assigned to a twenty-four-hour perimeter watch.

Scouting parties estimate the army of the Veil is only a day or two away.

New Manhattan is taking a defensive position, claiming we’re strongest inside the city and that we have everything we need here. Every able-bodied citizen is called to take up arms and defend what is ours or die trying.

The chancellors and General Sol regularly appear on the newsfeed, telling everyone they have nothing to fear. That we are ready. That they will defend us against this attack. It’s a reminder of why the Solitudes could never be trusted. They tried this once, and left to their own devices, they will continue trying to claim what’s rightfully ours.

It’s time to stamp them out for good.

Meanwhile, the Fog hasn’t deviated from its mission.

They’re still focused on gathering proof of The Shield’s lies and obtaining the cure. Edward has been working tirelessly to find a way to access Mowry’s research.

It’s early morning when the first alarms go up, blaring across the sky.

The Veil has arrived.

Immediately, I head for the roof of Amery, peering out into the brightening darkness. At first, I see nothing. The clouds tumble overhead, flashing with green light.

An Emerald Storm is brewing.

They’ve always been considered lucky, so I’m not sure if that’s a good omen or not.

Whose side will luck favor in this fight?

The wind whips around me as I wrap my jacket tighter. I have Rook’s second phone clutched in my hand, waiting for Navy or Justin to call. What if they didn’t make it? What if something happened?

I watch the horizon as the first black dots appear in the distance.

The sight sends a chill snaking down my back as the wind kicks up and emerald-hued clouds tumble in giant puffs.

The first few drops of rain fall against my cheeks, cold as ice.

With my heart in my throat, I stare out, waiting for the Veil to draw closer.

Down below, people are running for cover, heading into the underground as they’ve been instructed. I watch the lines of Patrols in their dark-blue uniforms entering the streets, marching down the boulevards in neat rows. Behind them comes the Border Brigade in their hastily gathered, mismatched tactical gear.

The Storm Guard is already manning the Towers, ready and waiting.

I wonder how far the Veil will get.

The Brigade is new, barely trained, cobbled together to answer a threat.

The Veil has been shaped in fire under the guidance of High Commander Summit Athira, and they have a purpose. They’re here for justice.

New Manhattan’s armies defend an empty shell they’ve been told to protect.

If I were a betting person, I know who I’d put my money on.

The soldiers of the Veil arrive from three directions—north, west, south.

I wish Rook were standing beside me, so we could face this together.

When the phone in my hand rings, I stare at it for several seconds before answering. “Hello?”