No description from Liora, Bren, or Maerin had prepared him for the reality of it. Veyrhold had been built from salvaged scraps and old metal bones, but those had only hinted at the scale. This was not a crashed vehicle. It was a fallen world of metal, shattered across an alien plain.
Pieces of humanity's old sky-bound ambition lay buried beneath ash.
And somewhere in it, perhaps, answers.
Liora came to stand beside him.
"The first time I saw it, I cried," she said quietly.
Rohan glanced at her.
She kept her gaze on the wreck.
"I was nine. My father brought me to the southern ridge after my mother died. He said I needed to understand where we came from, and why grief was not allowed to make me careless. I remember hating him for that. Then I saw the hull, and I understood that Veyrhold was not only a prison. It was also a miracle. People walked away from that."
Rohan looked back at the wreck field.
"I understand why the ledger matters now."
"You understood before."
