Elias adjusted his aero-flaps, the small carbon-fiber wings attached to his suit. He used them to steer toward a floating crate—a remnant of a cargo ship that had succumbed to the same fate. He kicked off a piece of passing debris, a scorched recliner, and caught the edge of the crate.

"Still falling?" a woman’s voice crackled back. It was Sarah. He’d picked up her signal yesterday. She was somewhere roughly four miles "below" him, though direction had become a suggestion rather than a rule.

"I know," she replied, her voice growing faint as the distance between them stretched. "But look at the stars, Elias. Have they ever been that bright?"

It had started at the Great Fracture. One moment, Elias was standing on the edge of the Observation Deck in Neo-Aris; the next, the gravity well had inverted. The city didn't crumble downward—it shattered outward, leaving thousands of citizens suspended in a permanent, terminal descent through the atmosphere.

"Still falling," Elias confirmed, tucking a ration bar into his helmet’s feed-slot. "The altimeter on my suit just stopped. I think I’ve passed the troposphere."

"The air is getting cold, Sarah," Elias whispered. He watched the crystals of ice begin to form on the edges of his visor.

The sky was no longer a place; it was a speed. Elias had always wondered what the end of the world would look like. He didn’t expect it to look like an endless stretch of bruised purple clouds and the frantic, rhythmic whistling of wind against his goggles. He wasn't hitting the ground. That was the problem. He had been falling for three days.

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