Life for you has been less than kind
So take a number, step in line
We've all been sorry, we've all been hurt
But how we survive is what makes us who we are

Survive – Rise Against

October 21, 2958; The Infinite Forest, Mercury

The first thing Azra noticed stepping out of the portal was that it was cold. It wasn't freezing, but it was humid and chilly and there was consistent wind. The sky was slate gray and the air prickled like it was going to rain any second. There were whitecaps out on the ocean.

The ocean. They were by the ocean, on a simulated Earth. Somewhere further north- or south, Azra supposed, far from the tropics. The beach here was more gravel than sand and the ground inland was barren. The waves crashed into the shore with a force that spoke of the coming storm. Osiris stood a dozen meters away with his back to her, muttering to himself as he fiddled with some glowing blue contraption.

Azra was wary. She wanted to sit back and observe for a moment.

Sagira did not. She was overjoyed to see her Guardian safe and sound. "Osiris!" she cried out, zipping closer.

Osiris turned. Azra could see him processing, recognizing the voice of his Ghost, but not the shell, eyes casting around for an explanation and, after a moment, settling on the Hunter. There was no question whether he remembered her or not. Rage took over his features. "You," he spat, "What are you doing here?"

Azra opened her mouth to answer, but something else caught her attention. Her hair stood on end in a very familiar way as Spacetime began to twist. The Vex were coming. Terrible timing. How had they been found so fast?

It killed her to take her eyes off of Osiris, but he was not the biggest threat to her. At least not while the Vex still owned this reality. She readied her Mythoclast and turned, expecting to see a contingent of frames teleporting in.

It was, but it wasn't. Space bent, but instead of Radiolaria and metal, golden Light collected from the sharp angles. Azra watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as the Light condensed itself into a familiar form: feathered headdress, sweeping robes, and a look of determined hatred in its eyes. It was a flickering mirror to the man behind her.

"Osiris, we need to talk," Sagira was saying. "She's here to help-"

Azra watched another Reflection etch itself into existence beside the first one. She felt a third off to her left. Suddenly, over the space of a few seconds, she had become surrounded. She swung back to look at the Warlock, but she saw no sign on his face that he wasn't being absolutely serious. He meant violence. Sagira was monologuing in the background, but neither Guardian was paying her attention. The air was suddenly filled with a buzzing tension.

The Osiris-analogues began to push in. He was furious, so they were furious. Azra hadn't said a single word and the Warlock was already starting a fight. She bit back the urge to shout 'I told you so' to her Ghost. She had more pressing issues.

She widened her stance and gripped her gun more firmly, eyes flicking about in search of an opportunity or a hole in the formation. She instead caught one of the Reflections as it lunged forward, hands outstretched to grapple her. Azra stepped backwards and swung the stock of her gun, cracking it across its (surprisingly solid) head. It staggered past her. Sagira yelled in protest (at Osiris or at Azra, she didn't know), but it was too late. The other Reflections were already moving. The one she'd hit recovered and turned to face her as well.

Simple. Azra fired her Mythoclast from the hip, taking the Osiris-form in front of her with a short spread. It stuttered out of existence. Another Reflection grabbed at her right arm, so she let loose a torrent of Arc and backhanded it, Shaxx-style. It tumbled backwards, exploding into embers as it hit the simulated gravel. Azra aimed down her sights at the last Reflection.

Behind her, she felt Solar Light gather and peak. The familiar ringing shriek of a Dawnblade echoed over the shore. Azra had made a mistake in turning her back to him. She spun and caught the Warlock square in her sights. Osiris stood firm, robes flapping madly as his Light superheated the air around him. There was a flaming sword in his hands. He swung it, sending an arc of Solar fire screaming towards Azra.

She dodged, naturally. The Reflection behind her was not so fast. Azra was too busy to marvel at the fountain of cinders it left behind; there were already more flames pinwheeling towards her.

The Staff snapped into existence just in time to bat aside the attack. Osiris didn't hesitate to send more her way. Azra tasted a hint of fear in the fire as it singed her: fear and hurt and betrayal, but more overwhelmingly anger. Disgust. Like finding an insect in your food. She had turned up at the worst possible moment, an easy target for Osiris to direct his anger at.

Azra did not care for Osiris's feelings. His flames were deadly, but they were slow. The Arc egged her on, pushing her faster, letting her weave between the searing blades until she was close enough to strike-

"Azra. Azra, stop!"

The force of Sagira's will was like a physical wall. Azra froze, fighting it, staring horrified into Osiris's startled face, but her Ghost fought harder. She was panicked and angry and desperate. She would not let Azra kill her Guardian. The fight needed to stop, now, before irreparable damage was done, and that mean Azra needed to stand down.

Azra found herself needing to stand down. Her snarl turned into a grimace as she slowly, painfully straightened. The Staff winked out on its own accord. Osiris held his attacks too, but he didn't let go of his Blade.

Azra's fear brought her enough room to unsling the Vex Mythoclast from her shoulder, but she had to avert her eyes and stare at the ocean to her left instead of glaring at Osiris like she wanted to. Sagira floated forward in between the two Guardians, chattering rapid-fire like she would convince Osiris of their good intent if she could just say enough words.

Azra was paralyzed. She couldn't move forward. She couldn't even run away. She'd never felt so much like an animal: leashed, caged.

"Kill her."

You wish you didn't want to. The glance you've taken of the enemy- purple hair pulled back, a single glowing eye, the round face and button nose- it's familiar.

Too bad. You bring the Bow to your hands in a practiced motion; she's already turning to run, but a Tether will slow her enough to let you unsling your gun. The emptiness of the Void yawns in your head.

Somehow, that tips the balance, just a little. Enough to hesitate for just a second, enough to let your aim tilt a little too far to the left, enough that your deep-seated pull on the Void slackens a bit.

Azra reached for it and the Void answered, drowning out Sagira's harsh alarm-bell thoughts, taking Azra's own frustrations and pain and burying them in cool acceptance.

She turned her head back to look at Osiris and studied him. He was not wilted by age, but changed by the time nonetheless. His robes were tattered on the bottom. His armor had been torn and repaired several times. He stood as if he were threatened by her. He'd been an imposing figure in her memory; now he was just a tired old Warlock, half-crazed from exhaustion.

Osiris had attacked her first. But they weren't here to fight him. "Let's talk," Azra said, not bothering to keep the cold anger out of her inflection.

"Not with you," the Warlock spat. "I will not allow you to interfere. Not now. Not while so much is at stake."

"Osiris, we were wrong about her," Sagira pleaded. "She can help- she's the only one that can help us. We saw the dark future the Vex found. We can kill Panoptes, together."

"She may think she can help, she may have offered, but it is a trap," Osiris said. "What even is this… she downloaded you into her own Ghost?"

"Someone found Sagira's shell and brought it to Ikora Rey," Azra said. She pulled the Ghost's shell from her pocket. The magnetic bits of gold clicked against each other as they arrayed themselves. Azra tossed the shell to Osiris, who caught it and stared down at it with a horror so strong Azra's own gut clenched. "She was inert. I… there was some cobbled Vex tech Brother Vance said we could use to wake her back up. Instead, it…"

"Well, I'm her Ghost now," Sagira bragged. "With all the perks that entails. Their neural symbiosis is very advanced. She can't lie to me."

"Or she has been doing nothing but lying to you," Osiris said, letting go of his Dawnblade and closing his fist around the shell.

Sagira began casting for ideas. How could they prove themselves trustworthy? She invented and dismissed half a dozen plans in the space of a few seconds. Azra shook her head, dizzy.

Osiris's eyes settled on the Vex Tech gun in Azra's hands. "And I suppose you made that," he growled.

Azra clutched it a bit closer. "It's called a Mythoclast," she said in defense. "I stole it."

"Can you tell the difference between stealing and being given a gift?" Osiris questioned. "Between mistake and intention? The Vex schemes are endless."

Sagira had an idea. "Here, do you want to see it?" she asked. The gun would be a fantastic olive branch. It would put them in a compromising position for Osiris's benefit. Proof that they weren't here to kill him. It was a great idea.

It was a terrible idea. Azra didn't want to let him even touch her gun. The Mythoclast- she'd almost died for it. She'd cheated the universe to steal it, and she'd used it against Atheon and Crota and Oryx and Ghaul- and Osiris probably would not give it back once he got a hold of it.

"No," Azra said.

"Yes," Sagira answered.

"Let me see it," Osiris took a step forward and held out a hand.

"No," Azra protested again, but Sagira pushed and she took a step towards him anyway.

Give him the gun, Sagira demanded in her mind. Azra felt like a puppet on strings. She was shouting in her head but Sagira wasn't listening.

"No, no no no-" Azra said, but she took a step, then another, even though she was repulsed by the idea, Sagira's will was like a hand on her back, urging her forward.

She called on the Light but that only made it worse, only brought her and Sagira closer together, and Sagira really, really wanted Osiris to trust them, wanted to learn how the gun worked, and besides, it wouldn't be a loss. Azra wasn't really her Guardian-

Azra tore herself free, mentally shoving her Ghost away and throwing up as many walls between them as she could. Osiris reached for the gun and she jerked back, heart hammering in her chest, fear driving her lungs and her legs as she scrambled backwards, tripped and fell.

"I-" she choked on the words, and the reality of the situation hit her.

She was alone. Spark wasn't here. There was someone else in her brain, someone who did not care about her, who only wanted to use her as a means to an end. She could not trust Sagira, she could not trust Osiris, and she could not trust the ground under her own feet.

She had been used in the worst possible way. Azra had been through hell, had lost her Light, had skipped along the Sea of Screams. She thought she'd experienced nearly every terrible thing that could happen to a person: death, torture, isolation, helplessness. But she had never had her will taken like that, twisted. She'd never been a prisoner in her own mind.

She was hunched over, wrapped around her gun, head in her hands. There was a high, keening noise, like a wounded animal, and Azra realized it was coming from her own throat. Hot tears welled in her eyes.

"I…" Sagira said, somewhere. Azra was trying to ignore her but confusion and regret leached their way through her barriers.

Then the tears came. For what exactly, Azra didn't know. There was just so much built up inside her- guilt and grief and fear- she couldn't hold it in anymore. For a few moments she sat trembling as they dripped down her face, keeping silence. Then one of her breaths she drew in shuddered hard, and her diaphragm squeezed around the knot in her ribcage, and a sob broke through.

Spark stayed distant and absent in realspace, thinking maybe to give his Guardian some privacy. She curled up on herself anyway, burying her face in her knees and biting off the gasps that wracked her frame. But even when the sobs quieted to the occasional sniffle, the sense of guilt did not fade.

Spark finally gave in and hovered close to her head. "That wasn't your fault back there. You know that, right?" He said gently.

"I'm sorry," Sagira said. And the Ghost was genuine- she hadn't been thinking about how her actions might hurt Azra. She had been so excited-

"I miss my Ghost," Azra sobbed. She missed him so bad. She was grieving him, practically, for all he wasn't dead yet. He'd always been there for her. Always. But he was gone.

"I know," Sagira soothed. "I know."

It wasn't nearly enough. Sagira was only apologizing because she could feel the grief Azra was drowning in. Forced empathy. She didn't really care, she'd throw Azra to the wolves again the second it didn't affect her personally-

That's not true, Sagira protested. But…

But it had been.

Azra had only ever tried. Sagira's very presence was hurting the Hunter, and yet she was still trying. She didn't have to. Osiris- he had thrown Sagira out the second Panoptes had found her. He may have thought he was doing the right thing, but he hadn't even listened to her. He still wasn't listening.

Sagira had hoped that there wouldn't be conflict, that they would all realize they were on the same side here. She'd been naïve, maybe. The question was now, with the lines drawn in the sand: whose side was she on?

Osiris watched the small spectacle from a distance and considered the different paths forward. His hesitation was strange. He should think that he would act swiftly, decisively. He should strike now while the Hunter was vulnerable.

Yet there was a twinge in his chest, watching her sob like a lost child. Perhaps his isolation was taking more of a toll on him than he'd thought. It had been a long time since he'd last seen another living Human. The Vex facsimiles could provide decent company, but he was too aware that they were just puppets. An alien intelligence glittered behind their eyes.

Azra Jax, on the other hand, was almost too real. There was something about her that made it impossible to ignore the fact that she existed. She was here, immediate, present, and the world around her seemed obviously fake in comparison. Osiris could walk through simulated battlefields without batting an eye. He'd witnessed thousands of invented deaths, some quick, some long and painful. And yet it was this one Hunter's sorrow that was sending echoes of pain through his heart.

He shoved his feelings aside. This was not a circumstance to entertain sympathy. The stakes were too high.

Osiris approached slowly, watching Sagira shift positions to hover next to the Guardian's ear. The new vessel did not change her mannerisms. He recognized the uncertain way she ticked her shell back and forth. He watched the motion settle as she made a decision. The Ghost turned and rose, putting herself protectively between the Warlock and the Hunter.

"We need to work together," she insisted.

"You need to leave," Osiris said. Her being here would draw attention eventually. The new shell could only hide her for so long.

Sagira wound herself up. "Listen to me-"

"I will not endanger the future of existence for your sentimentality!" Osiris interrupted harshly. "You know the risks. You've agreed with me about them. Why would you bring her here?" They were teetering on the edge of annihilation- no matter how convincing a show Azra Jax could put on, involving her now was a staggeringly foolhardy act. It did not matter how well she cried.

"No," Sagira said, hurt driving a fire into her words. "You listen to me." She rose to face him on lifters that shook in anger. "You messed up, Osiris. You made a mistake. And by the Traveler I'm not going to just sit here as you make it again. You can't win this alone."

Osiris watched his former Ghost with a critical gaze and said nothing. He would get nowhere with her if she didn't have a chance to argue first.

"You made one assumption decades ago," Sagira scolded. "And now you're too damn stubborn to rethink it, even with Panoptes holding the Dark Future above your head. She's not a Vex construct. She's not your enemy." Of course, if Sagira could access Azra's thoughts as easily as she claimed, she would be sure of the Hunter's good intentions.

Bad intentions were not necessary to bring ruin. "She may be convinced of the fact," Osiris said, "but that does not make it true. You should know better."

Azra found her voice. "I'm not," she croaked. "God dammit, I didn't go through all of that just to have you spit this same old bullshit in my face." She stood unsteadily, settling the gun across her back and drying the tears from her eyes in a jerky movement.

Osiris wasn't getting through to his Ghost. Perhaps he could appeal to the Hunter's supposed better nature. "You are simply too big of a risk," he said, turning his head to address her. "There are many unknowns-"

"I killed Atheon," the Hunter announced. And in that statement all of her uncertain regret was gone. She had nothing but conviction. Every part of her- every muscle twitch, every beat of her heart, every overtone in her voice rang with truth. There was not a cell in her that believed it to be wrong.

They had felt the Vault of Glass collapse even here in the Forest. It had been a mystery to them, mostly because the Forest worked on Panoptes's understanding of the world. The Vex in some way could not comprehend the failure of the Vault. Osiris looked to the Ghost that floated by the Hunter's shoulder for confirmation.

"I can remember it," Sagira said. "It happened. She was there." And not an atom in her spoke doubt, either.

Osiris frowned at the assertion. "Why would the Vex make a tool of their own destruction?" And if the answer was that simple, then why were all simulations of the Vault still infinitely looping incorrect scenarios?

"If they had any say in my existence, why would they let me kill Atheon?" Azra asked. "And if I managed to break the Vault, their most powerful tool over ontology, how could they continue to have any say in my existence?"

Osiris did not have any answers ready. This was a paradigm-shifting piece of information.

The Hunter continued to ask questions like a philosopher listing their theses. "Why don't the Vex simulate me, huh? If what's happened to me is intentional, if they have any sort of sway over me, why don't they throw me into every scenario they can? Why would they purposefully leave gaps in their picture?"

Osiris interrupted. "The likelihood does not matter. If there is even an infinitesimal chance they have planned for this, we risk dooming all of reality." Osiris could not stake existence on anything less than absolute certainty.

"Then why didn't you kill me back then?" the Hunter asked blatantly. She crossed her arms in accusation. "Back when you first suspected this. If me existing is a risk, why didn't you end it all back when I was a Kinderguardian?"

"I was the Vanguard Commander," Osiris said coolly. "I couldn't go about killing whomever I liked."

"Certain enough to kill me but not certain enough to endanger your position," Azra said snidely. "Great. And how am I supposed to trust you when you use Vex Tech to make freaking copies of yourself?" She spat the words with disgust.

Osiris would not stand for these insinuations. "I am using a technique I mastered centuries ago," he said. "The incorporation of technology is incidental. You, on the other hand…" He took a threatening step closer. "You still have no explanation for the anomalous temporal properties of your Light. Atheon's death notwithstanding."

Azra did not back down. "I do have an explanation," the Hunter shot back. She ripped off one of her gloves, revealing a hand marked with old scars. The sight shocked Osiris a bit. It was only on rare occasions that evidence of a wound lingered past resurrection or healing. Had she run afoul of some Hive ritual? Had she fallen into a pile of sword shards at Mare Ibrium? That many cuts at once- she should have lost her hand.

No, they were accumulated, layered on top of each other. It had taken a long time to earn them all.

"I know exactly what caused this," the Hunter growled. She shook the appendage in Osiris's face, angry. "Let me tell you, it's not…"

But then the Hunter faltered. Her eyes weren't locked on his anymore. She was staring at her hand. She flexed it slowly, forming a fist and relaxing it. Her anger gave way to anguish. She swallowed and opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"She… died. In the Vault," Sagira said softly. "Alone."

Azra shook her head and crossed her arms, hiding the scarred hand behind an elbow. "There wasn't… I didn't… the Vault was not fixed in linear time." She looked down. "Everything was tangled up. And I got tangled up in it."

"You became nonlinear?" Osiris asked. To be cast loose from time's flow, to become unanchored… Osiris nominally time traveled within the Forest, insomuch as he witnessed events from the past and the future, but his history and cognition remained a single straight line.

"Yeah," Azra said roughly. "It was…"

"Horrible," Sagira whispered. "It was horrible. You were alone. Forever. Barely surviving. Hunted. Exhausted. Confused." With eternity lasting but a moment, yet every moment eternity. How was she still sane?

Azra shook her head again after a long moment. "I'm not here for a pity party," she said. "I got out. And Atheon is dead and will continue to be dead. It was doomed from the start because I said so. Not the other way around."

There was a stretch of time where the only sound was the waves crashing on the beach. Azra shooed away her memories of the Vault, staring resolutely at the stones under her feet. Osiris rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Sagira sighed, breaking the silence. "Osiris, can we talk? In private?"

Osiris shifted his gaze from Azra to the Ghost and crossed his arms. That apparently meant 'yes', because Sagira turned and stared at Azra as well.

The Arcstrider hesitated. Please, Sagira begged silently. I can get through to him. He deserves a talking to. But if he gets embarrassed, he'll get stubborn.

Azra relented. "I can get out of earshot, but I can't make promises about listening in." Feeling the immediate disappointment from Sagira, she amended her statement. "…I'll try."

The Ghost turned back to face Osiris. Azra paused for a second before turning and walking away. The crunch of the gravel under her feet quickly swallowed any sound of conversation.

Azra did her best to tune out Sagira's thoughts. (In reality, she was glad to get a moment to pull herself together a bit. She had not expected this mission to include breaking down emotionally and then espousing her deepest trauma to a prickly Warlock. She still felt shaken.)

The scenery was beautiful, in a stark way. This far north (or south), there wasn't much debris to clog the beach. The waves made a pleasant shushing noise as they rattled the gravel against itself. Azra wanted to take off her boots and wade in, feel the icy shock of the water against her skin. But unlike on Earth, danger lurked around every corner here. She couldn't leave herself barefoot if the Vex decided to crash the party.

She wanted to walk even further away until the meander of the coastline took Osiris out of view. Enjoy a little bit of solitude- But she didn't dare get that far away from her Ghost. She wanted to turn inland and explore, find out what real-life bit of shore this simulation was copying, but likewise she wouldn't be able to wander far.

She stared out at the horizon, trying to judge when the storm would actually hit. Then again, with this being a simulation, maybe it never would.

She was trying, but Sagira wasn't good at keeping her thoughts quiet and there was little else to hold Azra's attention.

Osiris crossed his arms. "I can't believe you're taking her side. After everything we've been through. After everything we've seen." Sagira could detect the faint tone of hurt in his voice that hinted at a deep sense of betrayal.

"You haven't given me much choice!" Sagira replied. "It's like you don't even want my help."

Osiris waved his hand dismissively. "However convincing you are, there is nothing in this situation that can be trusted."

Sagira wanted to whirl her shell around she was so frustrated. (She had to admit, she missed having back phalanges. They were so expressive). "We have a perfectly good explanation for the thing that started your doubt," she said. "Talk about the things we've been through, she's dragged herself through worse. I'd say she's proven herself more trustworthy than a normal Guardian."

Osiris blinked but did not budge.

Sagira huffed in frustration. "So you've decided you can't trust anyone. Really, Osiris? Solipsism? 'The only person I know is real is myself?'. Face it, you need help. You can't do this alone."

"I have survived just fine so far, thank you," Osiris said dismissively.

"Oh yeah?" Sagira challenged. "What's your grand plan, then? How do you plan on taking down Panoptes?"

Osiris shifted his weight: a tell for his uncertainty. "I have been making Reflections, gathering my strength-"

"So you don't have a plan," Sagira interrupted. "Do you even know how to find it without it finding you?"

Osiris didn't answer. Sagira clicked in annoyance. "She can help, Osiris. She has experience sneaking through Vex systems. Better yet, she has experience in killing powerful Vex entities. Atheon is far from the only Mind she's ended. She found you easily enough." Sagira had an idea. "She can help us find Saint-14, too."

That caught Osiris's attention. He stared at her, interest as sharp as broken glass. Sagira felt a little bit of satisfaction. She still knew how to play her Guardian.

Azra blinked and realized she'd been staring off into the middle distance. She shook her head, frustrated. Her efforts to distract herself had lasted all of five minutes. It felt wrong to eavesdrop on what was supposed to be an intimate moment, and more wrong in that she hadn't even meant to.

But still, a bigger issue than Azra's sins: Sagira was wrong.

"Don't make promises I can't keep!" Azra called out. Osiris and Sagira paused in their conversation. The Ghost sent a bit of irritated accusation her way- what about private don't you understand? Azra sighed, settled her Mythoclast in its sling, and jogged back towards the pair, a guilty grimace on her face.

"I'm sorry," she said truthfully once she was in comfortable earshot. The crunch of gravel beneath her feet slowed as she dropped from a jog to a cautious walk. "I really was trying. There's just-"

"Alright," Sagira said, mentally accepting the apology before it was fully formed. "What do you mean, 'promises you can't keep'?"

Azra fixed her hood somewhat self-consciously. "I don't think I can find Saint-14. Not right now at least."

"You found me," Osiris pointed out. "Quite easily, according to Sagira."

"I knew you," Azra said. "Fairly well. I've never even met Saint-14."

"You never met Saint-14," Sagira said in disbelief. "Never?"

"I, like, saw him across the room at a few Vanguard events," Azra said. "But after Twilight Gap he went on his Fallen crusade, and then after that he stayed in the City most of the time." She shrugged. "My Ghost knew him some, before I was raised-"

"But I'm not Spark," Sagira completed. "Why should it matter? Couldn't you teach Osiris your trick at least?"

Azra fidgeted with her belt and tried to find a through line that would explain everything. "Unless Osiris has a much more powerful Lightsense than I thought- this place isn't really Dark, per se, just kinda… neutral. And you've seemed kind of surprised by mine-"

"Guardians who have lived in Dark places develop a powerful Lightsense," Osiris said. It sounded more like a speculation than a statement of fact.

Azra shrugged. "That's what me and Eris Morn figure, anyway. Her and the Hellmouth, me and… yeah." She shook off the memory and pushed onward. "So you're probably not sensitive enough to find him, and I don't know what I'm looking for. Sagira's associations can't help me find diddly squat, since hers are already different than what mine would be."

That pronouncement was followed by silence. Osiris looked as shut-off as ever to Azra, but Sagira could tell he was disappointed.

"…If we get Sagira back in her own shell, Spark could help me find him," Azra offered. "We would, too. Getting lost in here doesn't seem like it would be fun. I'd help anyone out."

"We need to focus on the task at hand," Osiris said, sweeping a hand as if to brush aside his worries. "How do you plan on finding Panoptes without alerting it to your presence?"

And just like that: a way forward. Azra had noticed that Osiris was one of those stubborn types. Even if he knew he was wrong, it would be like wringing blood from a stone to get an apology out of him. And although Azra would like nothing more than to rub his face in all of the mistakes he'd made, all the grief he'd caused-

Well, that was it. There were several things she would like more than that. Panoptes dead, for one. Her Ghost back. The Vex schemes thwarted. Achieving any one of those things would require the help of the Warlock in front of her. She hadn't come to reckon with their complicated past, she'd come in service of the future.

"Okay," Azra said, settling back on her heels. "So."