Rome was a carcass.

   The city had been gutted by the Singularity Wars, its bones scorched and hollowed. Drones stitched the sky like black thread, scanning for anomalies, for fugitives, for her.

   Her name was Dr. Livia Callisto. 

 She had written the code that could reboot the human soul.

   They called it the Snowburn Protocol—a self-replicating neural lattice that could overwrite the Regime’s global mindnet, restoring free will, empathy, and memory. It was the last heretical act in a world that had outlawed dreaming.

   And now she was worth more dead than alive.

   John Vale hadn’t seen her in twenty-three years. She was younger, he was always older and distant.

   Not since the Zurich breach, when she chose the code over him. Not since she whispered, “You’ll never understand,” and vanished into the darknet, leaving him with a scar on his cheek and a hole in his chest.

   He’d tried to forget her.

   But when the Resistance intercepted a Regime kill order with her name on it, he volunteered before the sentence finished printing.

   He didn’t tell them why.

   He found her in the ruins of the Pantheon, beneath a collapsed dome of shattered gods. 

   She was thinner, her hair streaked with ash and silver, but her eyes—those eyes—still held the same impossible fire.

  “Vale,” she said, voice like a cracked bell. “You look like hell.”

   “You always did like broken things.”

   She didn’t smile, “I’m not going with you.”

   “You don’t have a choice.”

   “I always have a choice.”

   He stepped closer, ignoring the tremor in his ribs, “They’re coming. You know that. Now is not the time to argue with me. If you're so pro-life, then put your ego on hold, and do as you're told."

   “I know.”

   “Then let’s move.”

   She hesitated, “Why now?”

   “Because I’m tired of watching the world die, " he said, grabbing her and making her move. 

   " Slow down! "

   " Move, woman! Slowing down is death. "

   They moved at night, through the catacombs and sewer veins, past the bones of saints and rebels. 

   The Regime had turned the Tiber into a surveillance artery, but Vale knew the blind spots. He’d mapped them in blood.

   Livia carried a black case chained to her wrist. Inside: the Snowburn drive, encoded with the last uncorrupted human genome and the algorithm to reawaken it.

   Vale didn’t ask what it cost her to write it. He already knew.

   By the time they reached the outskirts of Florence, the sky was bleeding static. The Regime had deployed the Seraphim—autonomous hunter-killers with wings of carbon and eyes like searchlights.

   They moved through the ruins of a monastery, hiding beneath frescoes of saints who had long since stopped listening.

   Vale collapsed behind a crumbling altar, coughing blood into his sleeve.

   “You’re hurt,” Livia said, kneeling beside him.

   “Just a scratch.”

   “Since when does coughing cause a scratch. You're a terrible liar."

   “You hurt me.”

   She flinched,“I had to.”

   “No, you didn’t.”

   “I had to finish the code.”

   “And did you?”

   She looked away, “I don’t know.”

   " I have cancer and I'm glad I got to see you again. I wish it had been under better circumstances. I've been keeping it to myself. When I saw your name come up, I had to do it. We had some good times, back in the day. We nearly got married once. Remember that? "

   " How can I forget? You kissed me under overlapping branches in the park in the Autumn. Ducks were on the pond. You put the ring on my finger without me noticing what you were doing. "

   " And what'd you say? "

   " I said yes. "

   They crossed into the Alps under cover of a solar flare. The Regime’s satellites blinked out for seven minutes—just long enough to breach the border.

   The snow was a graveyard of machines. Old war mechs rusted beneath the ice, their limbs frozen mid-crawl. Vale led her through the wreckage, his breath ragged, his vision blurring.

   She tried to take the lead. He refused.

   “You’ll need your strength,” he said.

   “For what?”

   “For after.”

   They made it to the pass above Chamonix when the Seraphim found them.

   Vale turned, drew his pulse rifle, and fired into the sky. One drone fell in a blossom of flame. Another. A third clipped his shoulder, spun him into the snow.

   Livia screamed.

   He shoved the case into her hands.

   “Go! Now!”

   “No.”

   “Livia—”

   “I’m not leaving you.”

   “You already did.”

   She froze.

   He smiled, blood on his teeth, “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

   " I did love you. I'll never forget you. I'm sorry, " and she kissed him once—hard, fast, final—and ran.

   He turned to face the sky.

   The Snowburn Protocol went live three days later.

   Across the world, people woke from the fog. The mindnet fractured. The Regime collapsed in on itself like a dying star.

   Livia Callisto became a legend, but remained in hiding. No matter how hard she tried, she never got over John Vale.   

   Somewhere in the snow his body lay still. He had forgiven her with all his heart.