Milan was a city on the edge of a nervous breakdown. The fashion capital was now a fortress of barricades and "Emergency Barter Centers." The Duomo, usually a place of prayer and tourism, was surrounded by soldiers in the uniform of the Italian National Guard, but their loyalty was questionable.Anthony, Sloane, and Mark moved through the city in an old delivery truck, the "Audit" logos painted over with crude graffiti."We’re meeting Vionna in the Brera district," Mark whispered, his laptop open on his knees. "She’s found a way to hijack the 'Founders' Channel'—the emergency broadcast system the Hales use to talk to the elites.""How much time do we have?" Sloane asked."Thorne is in the city. He’s tracking the 'Seed Leak' signatures. If I open the broadcast, he’ll have our location in under three minutes."They reached a nondescript apartment building, the walls scarred by recent riots. Inside, Vionna was waiting. She looked haggard, her elegant clothes replaced by a nondescript tra

The sun rose over Milan, illuminating a city that felt like it had been reborn. The barricades were coming down, not through violence, but through a strange, collective peace. People were sharing what they had, not because they were told to, but because they no longer feared there wouldn't be more.Anthony and Sloane stood on the steps of the Duomo, watching the crowds. Thorne had been taken into custody by the Italian Guard, but Anthony knew he was just a symptom. The real fight was still ahead. Maximillian Hale was still in his fortress, and the "Old Blood" wouldn't give up without a fight."You did it, Anthony," Sloane said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You saved them.""I gave them a chance, Sloane," Anthony said. "But the 'Seeds' are only half the battle. We still have to build a world where the Hales can't happen again. A world where 'Transparency' isn't just a ledger, but a way of life.""And the island?" she asked, her eyes searching for him. "The garden with the coconut

The silence that followed the server’s death was more terrifying than the noise. Anthony scrambled toward Sloane, his hands finding her in the dark."Sloane? Are you okay?""I'm... fine," she gasped, her voice shaky. "Where’s Thorne?"A low groan came from the corner of the room. Anthony grabbed a flashlight from the floor and shone it toward the sound. Thorne was slumped against a bookshelf, a piece of shrapnel from the server cooling fan embedded in his shoulder. He was alive, but the fight was gone.Maximillian was standing by the ruined machine, his hands clawing at the brass casing. He looked like a man who had seen his soul evaporate."It’s over, Maximillian," Anthony said, helping Sloane to her feet. "The 'Wipe' failed. The Design is still out there. And the world is waking up.""You don't understand," Maximillian whispered. "Without the Design, there is no plan. There is only... the people.""Exactly," Anthony said.Sloane leaned against him, her weight a comfort. "We need to

The decision to leave Solace was a silent one. They packed light—only the essentials of their old life. As they boarded the small sea-plane Anthony had hidden on the far side of the island, he looked back at the cottage. The dream of the garden was dead, replaced by the reality of the machine."Where to?" Sloane asked, taking the pilot's seat."The Azores," Anthony said. "There’s an old Jodah 'Hydrometric Station' there. It was built in the fifties to study deep-sea currents, but my father used it as a backup for the 'Sovereign Garden.' If the algae is a network, the Azores station is the router."The flight across the Pacific was a journey through a dying world. From the air, the purple blooms were visible in every direction, stretching like bruises across the face of the planet. They saw cargo ships stalled in the water, their hulls choked by the thick, bioluminescent silk."Anthony, look," Sloane said, pointing to the radar.A fleet of black VTOLs was moving north, toward Europe. N

The retreat from Milan was a nightmare of shadows and steam. The masked "Reclaimers" hadn't just attacked the crops; they had ignited the city’s underlying fear. By nightfall, the Duomo square was a battleground of people fighting over the remaining un-sludged soil.Anthony, Sloane, and a handful of loyalists—mostly former Jodah clerks who had traded their spreadsheets for survival—found themselves at the old Milano Centrale railway station. The grand, fascist-era architecture loomed over them, a tomb for a world that moved at three hundred kilometers per hour."We can't go by road," Sloane said, checking the magazine of her pistol. They were huddled in the darkness of a maintenance tunnel. "The Reclaimers have checkpoints on every highway. They’re looking for 'High-Value Assets.' That’s you, Anthony.""Mark said the Barcelona lab is still functional," Anthony said, looking at a hand-drawn map. "If he’s replicated the True Seed, we can start over there. But it’s a thousand miles.""No