When cities collapse, it's rarely the bombs that do it.
It's the truth.
Or the fear of it.
And after Sector Zero, the Origin reveal, and the halted countdown, truth was leaking from every crack.
We tried to get ahead of it.
Reese prepped a statement. Echo cut a short video showing the vault girl's message. I stood in front of a camera, again, saying everything we could without blowing the last layer of secrecy wide open.
"We've uncovered a system built to break itself," I said. "And we've held it back. For now. But we can't do it alone."
Simple. Vague. Careful.
But not careful enough.
Because the Hollow had footage of their own.
They hacked a dozen city billboards. Synced broadcasts across stolen League servers.
Then they showed it.
Raw security footage from the Origin vault.
My hand touching the sphere.
The countdown.
My image, flickering.
Their voiceover followed:
"The Divide hides the key. The League cowers from it. The world must burn for truth to rise."
And underneath it all, one line burned across the screen:
"Release Phase Five."
The city cracked.
Again.
This time not with fire.
With fear.
People didn't understand what they were watching, but they felt what it meant.
Something huge was under their feet.
Something the Divide had touched.
And now?
The Hollow claimed it belonged to them.
Delryn slammed the console.
"They hijacked our proof."
Echo stared at the screen. "They made you the villain."
"No," I said, breathing slowly. "They made me the match."
By sunrise, four more cities reported Hollow riots.
League convoys pulled out of mixed zones.
Civilians barricaded side streets with broken cars and kitchen chairs.
And in the middle of it all?
People with powers just trying to stay alive.
Reese paced.
"There's only one way to fix this."
"Release the full file," I guessed.
He nodded. "Everything. Origin. The vault girl. The Sphere. The countdown. Your connection to it."
Echo leaned back against the wall.
"If we do that, we lose control of the story."
"If we don't," Reese said, "the Hollow own the story."
We called an emergency meeting.
Every major cell joined.
Some remote.
Some in person.
Thirty-five people with different faces, histories, and wounds.
No one looked relaxed.
But no one left.
Delryn laid it out.
"All three sides are collapsing into each other. Hollow forces are moving on transport hubs. League units are isolating power zones. Civilians are arming up. This is happening now."
Synn added, "We've confirmed Hollow activity near three more anchor sites—similar energy patterns to Origin."
"Copies?" someone asked.
"Maybe. Or shadows."
Echo looked at me. "What do you think?"
I paused.
Then said it:
"I think we started this."
Silence.
Then: "So what do we do about it?"
I stood.
Looked at all of them.
"This isn't about taking power anymore. It's about keeping the world from tearing itself apart."
Reese nodded. "Then we tell them the truth."
"All of it," I said. "Even if it burns."
Within an hour, we had it ready.
A raw file.
Fifteen minutes long.
Cut with context.
Minimal effects.
Just us.
The Divide.
And everything we'd found.
I sat in front of the camera.
Wore no insignia.
No jacket.
No glow in my hands.
Just me.
"My name is not important. But what we found is.
There's a system under your feet. One designed to control you or collapse you—whichever works first.
They told us we were special. Dangerous. Heroes. Weapons.
None of that matters.
What matters is you.
What you choose now.
We've held the fuse.
We've stopped the countdown.
But you decide what burns next."
It broadcast at noon.
Across every open line.
And three minutes later, it was mirrored everywhere.
People watched.
Thousands.
Maybe more.
We didn't know.
But we felt it.
The air shifted.
A collective pause.
And in that pause?
The world chose.
First, the League.
Three units mutinied.
Commanders laid down arms.
One captain made a public statement.
"I've seen what they found. And I believe them."
Her name was Nyra Holt.
She was the first uniformed officer to say the word:
"Divide."
Then the civilians.
In one district, unpowered residents formed human walls between Hollow infiltrators and power-positive zones.
In another, they handed their comm arrays to Divide techs to amplify signals.
One child wrote on a school wall:
"Power isn't evil. Fear is."
But not everyone joined.
Some feared us more.
And the Hollow?
They retaliated hard.
The strike came that night.
Four agents.
Full Hollow core.
They hit our supply line in Zone Twelve.
No survivors.
Delryn didn't speak for hours after she saw the footage.
Reese threw his comm across the room.
Echo walked straight into the training pit and didn't come out until dawn.
Me?
I sat on the roof.
Stared at the skyline.
Watched smoke rise from a fire five blocks away.
And waited for the voice.
The sphere's hum.
It hadn't spoken in days.
But I still felt it.
Inside me.
Waiting.
Echo joined me near sunrise.
She handed me a cup of coffee.
Didn't speak.
Didn't have to.
After a long silence, she said:
"You knew this would happen."
"Yeah."
"And you still went through with it."
"Yeah."
She looked out over the city.
"What if this is just the middle?"
I looked back.
At the cracks and firelight.
The ash and electricity.
And said, "Then we hold the line."
Reese burst onto the roof ten minutes later.
Eyes wide.
Holding his tablet.
"They responded."
"Who?" I asked.
He turned the screen.
One line.
From a deep, encrypted channel.
A Hollow line.
It read:
"Final phase begins now. Anchor must break."
Echo stood slowly.
Her fingers flexed.
"Then they're coming."
I nodded.
"Let them."