“I'm guessing you know where things stand, Cal" she says.
His response is almost too quick. "I do."
Farley bites her lip. "And?"
A long rush of static drones, before he speaks again. "Mare?"
The radio is in my hand before I can even think to ask for it.
"I'm here," I say, locking eyes with him across a canyon.
"Is it too late?"
The question has too many implications to count.
Purple, white, green, and blue flash through the clouds, enough to penetrate the mist and blind us all for a moment. Shutting my eyes, I smile with the burst of energy as it thrums through me.
When the lightning passes, I answer him, and everything he means.
"No, it isn't," I tell him, before returning the radio to Farley.”
―
Victoria Aveyard,
War Storm