Lupa stood in the frozen wind, staring at the only two people in the universe who had ever understood her.

  Her brothers.

  This was it.

  This was the last time they would be one.

  Romulus exhaled, his breath turning to mist. His body felt like stone. Stronger than ever, heavier than ever.

  Remo rolled his shoulders. He was ready.

  Lupa felt the minds of her brothers within her.

  And for the first time, she could walk alone.

  Titi had taught them how.

  The whale’s ancient voice still echoed in their thoughts.

  "You were never meant to exist this way. Your souls, fractured, scattered—just like the chaos before time. But now, you know how to take yourselves back. You know how to walk apart."

  The three of them nodded.

  This was not an ending.

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  It was balance.

  Romulus turned to his siblings.

  “We shouldn’t live each other’s lives,” he said. “But we should support them. And you both gave me what I needed: Intelligence and adaptability.”

  His amber eyes swept over the frozen landscape of Httoq.

  “I’ll stay.”

  Lupa nodded, already knowing. “You’ll make this a city.”

  “A real one,” Romulus confirmed. “A place for them. The ones who are coming.”

  The world wasn’t ready for Federated Minds.

  But Httoq would be.

  Lupa turned, already feeling the pull of No Nation.

  B.O.R.I.S. was preparing to leave.

  And Hermes—

  Lupa frowned.

  Where the hell was Hermes?

  Then, she heard it.

  Remo snorted as he checked his communicator. “You won’t believe this.”

  Lupa arched an eyebrow.

  Remo sighed. “It’s Hermes. He needs me to meet him. Apparently, Boris wants to tell him some ‘crazy story,’ and he wants me to bring—” he squinted at the message, “—‘a few extra-hot Remo copies for a proper sendoff.’”

  Lupa rolled her eyes. “That idiot.”

  But Remo was already grinning.

  “Guess I better go see what it’s about.”

  And just like that, he was gone.

  Romulus lingered.

  His work in Httoq was just beginning.

  But he had one last thing to do.

  He took a breath.

  And then—

  He called for her.

  A whisper, an intention, a fracture of space—

  A crack in the universe where she could step through.

  Feast.

  Romulus had loved her before he even knew what love was.

  And now—he wanted to see what it meant to choose something not for survival, not for power—

  But for the sheer, unruly pleasure of it.

  Even if she didn’t stay.

  Even if she never would.

  He had learned not to need the whole.

  Fractions were enough.