Night fell over the distant sector of Ashmoor—a desolate region tucked into the outskirts of Noxshade where the System's grip ran deepest. Here, the skies never cleared. The stars were veiled. The earth was cracked and blackened, as if burned by unseen fire.
Ashmoor wasn't on any official map.
And for good reason.
It was the site of Ashmoor Penitentiary—a soul-mining prison operated by System Warden Units, where failed vessels, corrupted hosts, and rebellious contractors were stripped of their essence and recycled for "future utility."
Ceryn described it as hell wearing a human face.
And tonight, the Crimson Rebellion was going to strike it.
---
Inside the Mobile War Tent – Crimson Sanctum
"We'll be outnumbered three to one," Myra said, flipping her dagger. "And that's just the surface guards."
Kael cracked his neck. "Let them come."
