Sine Mora Nsp -

Bonto remembered the sound of the glass breaking. Not the cockpit glass of his Grainer fighter—that had shattered a thousand times in the endless war. No, the glass of his son’s terrarium. The one shaped like a perfect sphere, holding a single, dying violet.

The Bernhard Dynasty didn’t kill with bullets. They killed with chrono-dilation . They froze his son in a bubble of subjective time—forever falling, forever screaming silently, a single second stretched across eternity. A punishment for Bonto’s rebellion. A lesson: You cannot fight what you cannot catch. sine mora nsp

“Aka,” he gasped. “I’m losing the memory. What was his name?” Bonto remembered the sound of the glass breaking

Snap.

Snap.

Bonto opened his eyes. He was in his apartment in the Lower Tiers. The water pumps were humming. The terrarium was intact. And Rento—small, alive, holding a toy spaceship—looked up and smiled. The one shaped like a perfect sphere, holding