The emergency council convened within the hour, but it felt like an eternity. Josh sat in the secure conference room, still covered in dust and blood from the New York engagement, while leaders from every faction argued about what the First One's offer meant.
"It's obviously a trap," Yuki insisted, her wind powers agitated enough that papers kept flying off the table. "Give them the Prime Shard and they'll just use it to conquer us more efficiently."
"Or they're telling the truth," countered Dr. El-Sayed, his face appearing on one of many video screens. "The ancient texts mentioned the Shards were tools of dimensional travel. What if the First Ones literally can't return home without the Prime? What if they're as trapped here as we feel trapped by them?"
Admiral Russo looked haggard, like she'd aged another decade. "Dr. Walsh, professional opinion. Could the First Ones be genuine about leaving?"
Walsh pulled up data streams, her fingers shaking slightly from exhaustion. "The dimensional signatures support the theory. The First Ones aren't manifesting here by choice—they're being pulled through rifts that keep destabilizing. It's like they're barely holding on to our reality. The Prime Shard could theoretically stabilize their dimensional transit enough to leave."
"Or it could give them unlimited power to destroy us," Rodriguez added darkly. She was bandaging a wound on her arm from the New York fight. "We're talking about handing over the source of all Shard energy to beings we don't understand. That's not strategy, that's suicide."
Josh had been quiet through all of this, his mind racing through scenarios and consequences. Finally, he spoke. "What happened to the other teams? Full casualty report."
The room went silent. Dr. Walsh pulled up the data, and it was worse than Josh had feared.
"Moscow team: three casualties, including one of Azazel's lieutenants. Beijing: two casualties, both Council members. Mumbai: four casualties—Sarah Li is in critical condition. Tokyo: one casualty. London, Paris, São Paulo teams each lost one member. Sydney and Cairo teams: no casualties but two critically wounded each." Walsh's voice was clinical, but her hands trembled. "Total: seventeen dead, nine critically wounded. Out of seventy-two deployed."
Seventeen people. Seventeen Shard-users who'd trusted Josh's plan, followed his orders, and died fighting an enemy they could barely touch.
"The disruption attacks failed," Azazel said bluntly. He looked different via video feed—diminished somehow, his ice form less perfect than usual. "The First Ones adapted within minutes. They're learning our tactics faster than we can deploy them. The next engagement will be even costlier."
"Then we don't have a next engagement," Josh said quietly. "We can't win this war through attrition. We're bleeding fighters while they barely notice our attacks."
"So you're suggesting we surrender?" Viktor, the shadow-user from the Council, looked outraged. "Give them the Prime and hope they keep their word?"
"I'm suggesting we're out of good options." Josh stood up, pacing. "Every plan we've tried has failed or cost us people we can't afford to lose. The Prime Shard is locked in a temple in the Amazon with a garrison of soldiers guarding it. We can't use it ourselves without being consumed. So what's it actually protecting? Just the theoretical threat of someone else getting it?"
"The theoretical threat is the entire point," Russo said sharply. "Josh, I understand you're frustrated and grieving, but we can't make decisions based on desperation. What happens if we give the First Ones the Prime and they don't leave? What if it makes them stronger?"
"Then we're exactly where we are now—fighting enemies we can't beat—except we've tried everything instead of dying slowly while holding onto a weapon we're too afraid to use." Josh slammed his hand on the table. "I'm not saying I like this option. I hate it. But tell me a better one. Give me a plan that doesn't end with humanity extinct or enslaved."
Nobody had an answer.
Kenji's voice came through unexpectedly—he'd been listening from the medical bay. "I might have something. It's not better, but it's different."
"We're listening," Josh said.
"The Prime Shard is conscious. It communicates, understands, makes deals. What if we broker an arrangement? Not just hand it over, but negotiate terms. The First Ones want it to go home. The Prime wants freedom from imprisonment. Maybe there's a deal where everyone gets something."
"You want us to negotiate with the most dangerous artifact in existence and beings that can erase reality," Mei said flatly. "That's your plan?"
"You have a better one?" Kenji's voice was weak but determined. "I touched the Prime. I know what it wants. And I've felt the First Ones' presence—they're powerful but they're not evil. They're just trying to go home."
"Trying to go home by destroying our cities and killing thousands," Anton said bitterly. He was still in surgery, doctors trying to figure out how to treat an arm that had been erased from reality rather than removed.
"Because they're desperate and dying in a dimension that's toxic to them," Kenji countered. "Think about it—they appear, they attack places with high Shard concentration, they're specifically targeting us. Why? Because we're the only ones who can help them get what they need."
Dr. El-Sayed was nodding slowly. "It fits the ancient patterns. The Shards were tools of dimensional travel. The First Ones used them to move between realities. When the Prime was lost here thousands of years ago, they couldn't retrieve it. Until now, when enough Shard energy accumulated to create a signal they could track."
"So we give them the Prime, they leave, problem solved." Ezra's void powers flickered. "Except we have no guarantee they'll keep their word. We need insurance."
"What kind of insurance works against beings that can rewrite reality?" Yuki asked.
Josh had been thinking about that. "We make it conditional. They don't get the Prime until they've proven they can leave. We escort it to a dimensional rift, they demonstrate they can transit dimensions, then and only then do they get the Shard. If they try anything before that, we destroy the temple and bury the Prime so deep nobody ever finds it."
"Can we destroy the temple?" Russo asked.
"With enough explosives and dimensional destabilization, probably," Dr. Walsh said. "It would take significant resources, but yes. The temple is physical structure enhanced by dimensional mathematics. Disrupt both and it collapses."
Azazel leaned forward in his video feed. "I have a better idea. What if I take the Prime?"
Every head turned to stare at his image.
"Explain," Russo demanded.
"I am the only being here who has successfully bonded with a Shard for centuries without being completely consumed. My will is strong enough to resist the Prime's influence—temporarily. I could transport it to the designated rift, maintain control long enough for the First Ones to demonstrate their ability to leave, then either release it to them or destroy it if they betray us." Azazel's eyes glowed with cold fire. "I'm already a monster, Joshua. Already damned. Using me as the bearer risks only someone who's already lost their humanity."
"No," Josh said immediately. "If you bond with the Prime, even temporarily, you become unstoppable. You could control every Shard-user on Earth. Including me. Including everyone in this coalition. That's not insurance, that's creating a worse threat."
"Then you suggest someone else? Who among us has the power and will to resist the Prime's corruption even briefly?" Azazel's voice turned challenging. "You, perhaps? The dual-natured one who channels the power of dozens?"
"If it comes to that, yes." Josh felt Kyla's hand grab his arm, but he kept talking. "But there's another option. What if nobody bonds with it? What if we transport the Prime in its sealed state, let the First Ones take the whole temple structure? They can figure out how to extract it themselves once they're home."
"That... could work," Dr. Walsh said slowly. "The temple's containment is independent of Earth's dimensional field. It should function anywhere. We'd essentially be giving them a locked box they can open on their own time."
"I like it," Stevens said. "Minimizes risk of anyone getting corrupted, gives the First Ones what they want without making them immediately all-powerful. It's not perfect, but what is?"
The debate continued for another hour, voices raising and falling as different factions argued their positions. Finally, Admiral Russo called for a vote.
"All in favor of attempting negotiation with the First Ones, offering the Prime Shard in its sealed temple in exchange for their departure from Earth?"
Hands raised slowly. The Vanguard members voted yes. Most of the Council members voted yes. Azazel abstained. The military commanders voted no.
"Motion passes," Russo said heavily. "God help us all. Reeves, you'll lead the negotiation team. Take whoever you need. Dr. Walsh, start preparing the temple for transport. This is going to require significant engineering."
As the meeting dispersed, Josh found himself standing alone in the conference room, staring at maps of the world with twelve First One positions marked in red. Seventeen names were now listed in black beside those positions. Seventeen people who'd died following his orders.
"You did what you could," Kyla said, entering the room and closing the door behind her. "Those deaths aren't on you."
"Aren't they? I led those teams. I gave the orders. If I'd come up with a better plan—"
"Then maybe different people would have died. Or maybe more. Or maybe all of us." Kyla moved in front of him, forcing him to look at her. "Josh, you can't save everyone. That's not how war works. You make the best decisions you can with the information you have, and you live with the consequences. Those seventeen people knew the risks. They fought anyway because they believed in what we're doing."
"And now we're giving up. Handing over the weapon we've been protecting because we can't figure out how to win."
"We're not giving up. We're being pragmatic. There's a difference." Kyla took his hands. "You want to keep fighting until the last Shard-user is dead? Until the First Ones finish their ritual and transform Earth into something that can't support human life? Or do you want to find a solution where most people survive?"
"I want a solution where everyone survives and we don't give god-like power to beings we barely understand."
"Yeah, well, I want a vacation in Hawaii with umbrella drinks. We don't always get what we want." Kyla smiled slightly. "But we can get close enough. And Josh, this plan—it's not perfect, but it's the best option we have. You know that."
Josh did know it. Hated it, but knew it.
"Come on," Kyla said, pulling him toward the door. "You need food, sleep, and probably a shower. In that order. The negotiation doesn't happen until we've prepared the temple for transport, which Dr. Walsh says will take at least eighteen hours. So you've got time to rest."
"I don't think I can rest. Every time I close my eyes, I see the casualties. Anton's arm disappearing. Sarah Li getting hit. Those Council members who just... stopped existing."
"Then don't close your eyes. Stare at the ceiling and eat something. Baby steps." Kyla led him to the cafeteria, which was nearly empty at this late hour. She assembled a tray of food that looked barely edible but was probably nutritious, and forced Josh to sit.
Stevens found them there, looking equally exhausted. "Mind if I join the sad food club?"
"Pull up a chair," Josh said. "We're discussing how we might have just made the worst decision in human history."
"Or the best. Hard to tell until it happens." Stevens took a bite of something that might have been meatloaf. "You know what I keep thinking about? My first day as a cop. I was so nervous, so sure I'd screw something up. And my training officer told me: 'You can't control outcomes, only choices. Make the best choice you can in the moment, and you're doing your job.'"
"Wise words," Kyla said.
"I thought so. Right up until that training officer got fired for taking bribes." Stevens grinned. "Point is, the advice was still good even if the person was flawed. We make choices with incomplete information and hope they work out. That's all any of us can do."
They sat together in the empty cafeteria, three people who'd gone from routine police work to negotiating with dimensional entities in the span of two months. The absurdity of it should have been funny, but Josh was too tired to laugh.
His comm beeped. Dr. Walsh. "Josh, you should see this. We're getting signals from the First One in New York. It's... communicating. Sending complex data streams."
Josh dragged himself to the communications center, where Dr. Walsh had translated the First Ones' dimensional language into something approximating human concepts.
"They're showing us their history," Walsh explained, pulling up visualizations. "Images, data, context. Josh, they're trying to explain themselves."
The display showed scenes that Josh's mind struggled to process. Beings of light and geometry traveling between dimensions, building civilizations across multiple realities. Then war—devastating conflict that shattered dimensions and scattered their tools of travel. The Shards.
"They were refugees," Dr. El-Sayed breathed, watching the data stream. "The war destroyed their home dimension. They've been trying to find a way to rebuild it, to create a new home, but they need the Prime Shard to stabilize the dimensional barriers."
More images showed the First Ones' attempts to retrieve the Prime over millennia. Each attempt failing because the dimensional physics were wrong, the barriers too strong. Until now, when human use of Shard fragments created enough dimensional disturbance to weaken those barriers.
"They're not invaders," Josh realized. "They're survivors trying to go home. And we've been keeping the key to their survival locked in a temple."
"That doesn't excuse the destruction they've caused," Russo pointed out. "Thousands dead, cities in ruins. Intentions don't matter when the results are catastrophic."
"No, but it means negotiation might actually work. They don't want to be here any more than we want them here." Josh studied the data streams. "Can we communicate back? Show them we're willing to help?"
Dr. Walsh worked her equipment. "I can try. Their language is complex, but the basic concepts should translate."
Over the next hour, they established a dialogue. The First Ones explained their need for the Prime Shard to create a stable dimension where they could exist without destroying their surroundings. Josh explained humanity's fear of giving them such power, the need for guarantees and demonstrations of good faith.
Finally, a proposal emerged.
The First Ones would provide dimensional technology—knowledge of how to seal dimensional rifts permanently, preventing future invasions. In exchange, humanity would transport the sealed Prime Shard to a neutral dimensional space where the First Ones could retrieve it safely. A team of Shard-users would observe the exchange, ready to intervene if the First Ones betrayed the agreement.
"It's still risky," Russo said. "We're trusting them to keep their word."
"And they're trusting us to actually hand over the Prime instead of destroying it," Josh countered. "It's mutual risk. That's what makes it a real negotiation."
The joint chiefs conferred. Military commanders argued. Diplomats debated every clause. But in the end, exhaustion and pragmatism won.
They'd try it. One last gamble to end a war neither side wanted.
"The transport operation begins in thirty-six hours," Russo announced. "Reeves, you'll lead the Shard-user observation team. Choose your people carefully. If this goes wrong, you'll be humanity's last line of defense."
After the briefing, Josh found Kenji in the medical bay. The former fire-user looked small in the hospital bed, diminished without his powers.
"You were right," Josh said. "About negotiation being possible. Thank you."
"I didn't do anything. Just suggested the obvious." Kenji smiled weakly. "How are you holding up? Saving the world, leading armies, making impossible choices—that's a lot for anyone."
"I'm managing. Barely." Josh sat in the visitor's chair. "Can I ask you something? When the Prime had you, when you were inside it—what did it feel like?"
"Like being everywhere and nowhere. Like I could see infinite possibilities but couldn't choose any of them. Like I was drowning in power that should have felt amazing but just felt empty." Kenji's eyes were distant. "The worst part wasn't the consumption. It was the loneliness. The Prime has been alone for thousands of years, and it's so desperate for connection that it'll destroy anyone who touches it just to not be alone anymore."
"That's horrifying and sad at the same time."
"Most truly dangerous things are." Kenji looked at Josh seriously. "Promise me something. If this plan fails, if the First Ones betray us and you need to stop them—don't use the Prime yourself. I know it'll be tempting. It'll offer you the power to save everyone. But Josh, it's not worth becoming what you're fighting against. Sometimes the only way to win is to refuse to play."
"I'll remember that."
Josh left the medical bay feeling the weight of tomorrow's mission settling heavier on his shoulders. Thirty-six hours to prepare. To choose his team. To ready himself for potentially the last negotiation humanity would ever make.
He found Kyla on the roof again—their usual spot when things got overwhelming. She was staring at the stars, which looked different now that dimensional rifts were scattered across the globe.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
"Too much thinking. You?"
"Same." Josh joined her at the railing. "I'm scared, Kyla. Really scared. Not of fighting or dying—I've made peace with that. I'm scared of making the wrong choice. Of trading one apocalypse for another."
"Then we make sure it's the right choice. We prepare for every contingency. We bring the best people. We stay ready to fight if negotiation fails." Kyla took his hand. "And we trust that we've done everything possible to protect humanity. After that, it's out of our control."
"When did you get so wise?"
"About the same time you became a dimensional warrior. We've both had to grow up fast." She leaned against him. "Thirty-six hours. What do you want to do with the time we have?"
"Train. Prepare. Make sure the team is ready."
"After that?"
"I don't know. What do normal people do when they're not fighting dimensional entities?"
"I hear they sleep. Maybe watch movies. Have conversations that don't involve the fate of the world." Kyla smiled. "We should try it sometime."
"After this is over, I'm taking a week off. Maybe a month. We'll go to Hawaii like we always talk about. Sit on a beach. Drink things with umbrellas. Be completely, boringly normal."
"I'm holding you to that."
They stood together under alien stars, two people who'd found each other in the middle of an impossible war. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new dangers, new impossible choices.
But for now, they had this moment. This peace.
And sometimes, that was enough.