Chapter 251: What It Costs to Send
Draven Mordis stood in the dark courtyard of the villa.
He held a heavy, newly forged iron machete. The blade gleamed under the glowing green canopy of the World Tree. He stepped toward the massive silver trunk, preparing to do what the survival of Bastion Six required.
The Warden drifted down from the high branches.
The ancient, gold-veined spirit stopped directly in front of him. The spirit did not radiate anger. It radiated a profound, heavy sorrow.
"You have never grown a single living thing," the Warden whispered into the freezing night air. "You have only ever ended them. You are a reaper of the harvest. You will not be the one to sever her flesh."
Draven stopped. He looked at the heavy blade in his hand. The Warden was right.
"Who?" Draven asked quietly.
The Warden turned its glowing form toward the distant industrial sector.
"The boy who listens," the Warden answered.
Ten minutes later, Cole Rust walked into the courtyard.
