In the months that followed the firefight, the desert outpost changed—and so did I.

At first, it was small things. The way the squad looked to me before moving. The quiet nods from older troopers who had once only taken orders from Rakoczy. They called me 'sergeant' now. I still wasn’t used to it, but I stopped flinching every time I heard it.

The Cult dug in, not with banners and bullets, but with quiet persistence. New faces appeared at Salvager’s Row—traders with whispered affiliations. Civilians with hollow eyes who found purpose in Mona’s words. Mechanics who asked no questions as they overhauled old vehicles beneath the cover of darkness. Mona came and went like the desert wind—never still, never idle. Jagiełło remained elusive, but his influence was everywhere. Orders came down with clarity and purpose. Always one step ahead.

My squad patrolled outward now—along dusty roads that led to other stations, waypoints, watering holes. And to our surprise, some greeted us with familiarity. A knowing glance. A gesture. An echo of the cause.

We weren’t the only ones. There were others.

In one station, a tollkeeper slipped me a sealed dataslate when no one was looking. In another, a chapel bore a strange sigil etched subtly into its foundation stone. And always, always, the whispers of readiness. Of waiting. Of patience.

I learned to speak with command in my voice, even when I was unsure. I learned which words carried weight. I learned to lie—to keep up the façade of a loyal PDF patrol. To wear the colours of the oppressor while serving the truth beneath.

My squad grew closer. They looked to me not just for orders, but for belief. We trained together. We laughed sometimes. We mourned Rakoczy in private, and then we moved on, because there was too much still to do.

There were moments of doubt, still. Quiet ones. I would find myself alone, lasrifle across my knees, staring out at the endless dunes. Wondering if I was becoming what I had feared. If I had a choice anymore.

Then Mona would appear beside me, silent and soft, placing a hand on my shoulder. And for a moment, the guilt would lift.

We were not ready to rise. Not yet. But we were preparing.

And I was becoming someone new.