RONAN The heat from the flames stayed with me, even hours later. My skin still felt too close to the fire, as if it had soaked into my bones. When it happened, the blaze climbed past the roof of the Sanctum Complex, bright enough to sting my eyes and blur my vision. The steel frame screamed as it expanded in the heat. Sharp cracks split the air again and again, loud and violent, like weapons firing in the dark. Nguyen and I drove away while the Sanctum Complex burned behind us, the sound following us longer than it should have. Finding the fire suppression control room did not take long. The layout was familiar, almost comforting in its logic. Nguyen helped me shut the valves by hand, cutting off the water that fed the system. Shutting it down digitally would have been cleaner and faster, but the system was not built to trust software. It depended on simple rules of nature. Heat would rise. Glass stoppers inside the sprinklers would weaken and fail. Water would fall and smother the flames. That design existed to make sure fires were stopped no matter what commands were given. Because of that certainty, we had to shut the water off at the source. The process took longer than Nguyen wanted, and I felt his tension growing with every second. Starting the fire itself had been quick. While we walked toward the control room, the code formed clearly in my mind, clean and efficient. After closing the valves, we retraced our steps to the room with the cellphones. Hundreds of devices were stacked neatly on tables. Maybe there were more than a thousand. Every phone buzzed softly, vibrating in place, just as they had when their owners were told to leave them behind. The sound filled the room like a living thing. Entering that room felt calm, almost peaceful. Within three minutes, my system slipped a short string of code into the operating program of every device. The work felt automatic, practiced. Watching the phones would have confirmed success, but Nguyen refused to wait. He said we had already stayed too long. His meaning was clear without more words. He was willing to die if it came to that. He did not want to. Before we reached the exit, the alarms began to scream. By the time we stepped outside, the sun was sinking toward the horizon. Purple and gold spilled across the sky, beautiful in a way that felt wrong. Flames had already torn through the roof. Thick black smoke rolled upward in heavy waves.Lithium batteries and the massive wooden conference table fed the fire well, turning it into something wild and hungry. Nguyen chose a utility rover parked near the entrance. He liked it for the long journey ahead and trusted its strength. Unlocking it took no effort, but I paused beside my door and did not activate the drive system right away. Standing there, my eyes stayed on the fire. The flames grew taller and stretched into the sky, bending with the wind. Small threads of fire broke away and drifted upward, glowing as they rose. For a few seconds, my mind betrayed me. Those drifting sparks became my mother, my father, my brothers, and my sisters. They looked like souls lifting free, finally moving toward something better. Nguyen shouted for me to get in. As I moved, something inside me went quiet and cold. Believing that my family had gone somewhere peaceful was only a story I told myself to survive the moment.It was a way to give meaning to what I had done and what I had lost. The thought tried to soften the weight in my chest. Maybe it was the will of the universe. Maybe it was meant to be that way. Watching the roof collapse burned that hope away. Heat washed over my skin in a sudden wave. It matched the fire tearing through my chest, fierce and unrelenting. Hours passed as the rover carried us toward Nguyen’s regiment. Silence filled the vehicle, thick and unbroken. Whether Nguyen was angry with me no longer mattered. Quiet helped. It gave me room to think and to breathe. It let my thoughts circle what waited ahead. Orders from the director’s office still hung over me, heavy and unfinished. Nguyen’s regiment sat along the route I was supposed to follow. Time remained, just enough to choose whether to obey or turn away. Serving the nation had once been simple. The nation protected my family. It gave them safety, structure, and a chance to build the lives they wanted. That reason was gone. My parents, my siblings, even my nieces and nephews were ash now. All of them were erased within hours. Serving a nation that might soon follow them into ruin felt empty and hollow. Reaching the rendezvous was no longer required. After leaving Nguyen’s regiment, vanishing would be easy. Chaos opened many paths, all of them unmarked. No one would expect me to abandon duty, even if duty no longer meant anything to me. Disappearing into the noise of the world felt possible. Dying felt even easier. Paramilitary groups like the Guardians of Christianity or other insurgents would welcome a name like mine. If they did not know who I was, I could tell them. Capture would bring pain. Torture would be likely. That fear failed to stop the thought. Guilt sat heavy on my chest, pressing down with every breath. I failed to stop what happened. My failures led my family to their deaths, whether I admitted it or not. Pain from others might quiet the guilt for a while. Suffering might feel like something earned, something deserved.