Chapter 3: I identify the echo of what is and what will be

"Europa should have burned. I should have allowed the Morning Star to fall. I should have advised the Young Wolf to leave the Deep Stone Crypt be; to evacuate and leave the moon to ruin. Hundreds would have died. Thousands - Eliksni, many innocent. A crime of genocide, yes, and an irreparable blow towards my people, my kind - but we would have avoided what now hunts us in the dark.

I should have brought it all down. Salvation has ruined us. Eventide has damned us. Now nowhere is safe. Now we are endlings; remnants and terminarchs, running because we can't envision a universe without our kinds.

Europa should have burned."

- Grayris, the Time-Stalker, to Gaelin-4, City Hunter, three days after the Fall of Pallas


"I've killed a dragon before," Norovoi murmured, resting her chin on her folded arms over the edge of the too-large counter. Grayris's cabin was larger than hers, but that wasn't a surprise or an issue. The Baroness was physically bigger, and the ship was theoretically hers. So what if she had the best room? Didn't much matter; there was still so much more ship up for grabs - for everyone.

Grayris had her back to her, hunched over the form of a Cabal Arc shotgun, designed with a Centurion's specs in mind - so overall larger than the Legionary norm - and bearing the scratched-up sigil of Caiatl's Imperial militia. "So have I."

"But what I'm used to is fighting them. Not… this."

"You are Awoken."

"Risen," Norovoi corrected.

Grayris shrugged - upper shoulders, her lower arms were still preoccupied with the gun. "Does it matter? Your mother-people treated with the wish-wyrms, mingled with them, found accord."

"Right up until they emptied out the armouries to supply the Risen hunting them down."

"Eia."

"And my 'mother-people'?" Norovoi raised an eyebrow. "Odd word choice."

"The Awoken gave way to you. Surfaced you."

"Again - surfaced?"

Grayris hesitated and glanced around. "When I joined Misraakskel and his House of Light in your City, I met many Guardians - many Lightkin. Some... more interesting than others. One spoke to me of the old worlds - the worlds that predated our first Falls. Before the Great Machine left Riis. Before the Maw first laid ruin to your system. He was adamant that the Machine had given rise to him to collect the memories of his first life and gather the myths of his ancestors. Like a Psion, that one..."

"But that doesn't-"

"He referred to it as surfacing. I found the term... rather apt. The Machine surfaced your father-people - your Light Warriors - with many missions in mind, dragging your souls from the grip of the House of Silence and returning you to the Allhouse, the Living House, bodies reforged and mortality cut away. Some took to those missions. Some did not, choosing instead the goals of their first-peoples, their true parents and forebears. You tried to find common cause with your mother-people, yes?"

Norovoi grimaced distastefully. "Didn't amount to much."

Grayris grunted sympathetically. "But you learned - in some ways more than others - how your mother-people lived. You now know their histories, their ways. Is it impossible to channel this towards the dragon in the brig?"

"I thought you wanted to jettison it out?"

"I did," Grayris begrudgingly admitted. "Until I remembered dragons can sail through the space between stars."

"Ah."

"Eia. Our only way to be rid of it is to kill it."

Norovoi dipped her head. "Not impossible."

"But troublesome."

"Exactly. So we play along with Therin's mad scheme?"

"Can you?"

Norovoi exhaled through her nose and thought on it. "I... spoke with it."

"So I gathered."

Norovoi gave Grayris a questioning look. The Baroness just shook her head.

"Its scent followed you here. You were in proximity to the beast, yes?"

"Sure," Norovoi sighed.

"What did you learn?"

"The dragon? It's... being semi-honest."

"Attempting to earn our trust?"

"Yep. We can't give it."

"Nama," Grayris agreed, "we cannot."

"... Well, then what do we do?"

"Humour it? I do not know; I am not Awoken."

"What you are has no impact here," Norovoi grumbled. "And me being blue changes absolutely nothing."

Grayris huffed. "Did you miss where I instructed you to channel your Reefborn power?"

"How about you channel your inner-Fallen and rip that thing to shreds?" Norovoi impatiently snapped.

The sharp glare Grayris sent her told Norovoi she'd stepped over line - far past the line. "Careful," Grayris warned, voice dangerously soft. "Even my patience has it limits, Viirtiirkles."

Norovoi pressed her face into her upturned palms. Well done. That's another bridge burnt. Fucking brilliant.

"If you cannot muster the skill to keep it in line," Grayris continued, "then I will petition the Senator for aid."

Norovoi breathed in deeply and raised her head. "Yeah, that might be for the best."

"Then I will do so, soon. But keep your hand near a weapon at all times. Dragons are fickle creatures, without any notions of loyalty."

"I know. Oh hell, do I know..." Norovoi pushed away from the counter. "I'll go check up on Gaelin. Here's hoping he knows how to keep it tied down for the time being." She stopped at the door, half-turned and asked, "What does that mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"Vir..."

"Viirtiirkles?" Grayris questioned. Norovoi nodded. "It means 'Thrice Soul-Stolen.'"

Norovoi flinched.

"Perhaps it will remind you to refer to my kin and I by our true names - Eliksni. Not Fallen." Grayris's voice lowered to a whisper, scarcely audible. "But if you are adamant, remember this - if anything, we are all Fallen now."


By midday the next day, a significant fraction of the ship's occupants had been summoned one at a time to the rear compartment of the western habitation wing. Well-timed too, because the only person Norovoi met on the way was Vynriis walking the other direction, right out of the Senator's quarters. The only reason she knew others had their own appointments was because she'd been talking with Gaelin about manacles fit for a dragon when he'd received his own summons. Grayris and the Senator had organized something, she bet. The reason why was obvious, squirreled away in the holding pens as it was.

Norovoi stopped just as Vynriis was about to pass her and asked, "Anything I should be aware of?"

Vynriis hesistated, then shrugged. "Mind-magic," the Vandal offered, then continued on.

Well. That wasn't foreboding. Not at all. Norovoi hissed out a frustrated sigh and trudged on.

The Senator's burly bodyguard stood by the door, cleaver planted on the floor before him. Ueru'uxo watched her every movement with his small, beady black eyes and scowled. "Weapon," he gruffly ordered.

Norovoi motioned to where his sword had scratched up the flooring. "You sure Grayris is alright with you doing that?"

"Weapon," he repeated, with more force.

"Yeah yeah..." Norovoi unstrapped her holster and tossed it - and the cannon within - to the Gladiator. He caught it deftly, in one meaty hand, and glared at her. "So I head right through?"

"Wait."

"For?"

"..."

"For?"

Ueru'uxo cocked his head to the side as if to listen to something and shifted to the left, away from the door. "The Senator will see you now."

"Am I going to be getting my gun back in one piece?" Norovoi asked, remaining in place.

Ueru'uxo grumbled. "Yes, human. Legion's honour."

"Legion's honour doesn't actually amount to much, does it?" she challenged.

The Gladiator growled. "You dare-"

"What kind of honour can childkillers and city-burners attest to? Not much, I reckon."

"The Senator will see you now," Ueru'uxo snarled, fuming. Norovoi figured he was just one comment away from breaking out into violence and judged her work to be done. She marched past - but then the Uluru leaned down, almost at eye level, and seethed, "You… are childish. You have endured a personal loss - I understand this, and it is why I will allow you to leave with your life. But only this once. Another remark and I will cut you down."

"Sure you will," Norovoi drawled, eyebrow raised. "Are we done?"

Ueru'uxo straightened up, teeth bared. "Yes, human. We are done. Now - the Senator will see you."

Norovoi rolled her eyes and stepped inside.


Her first thought: the Senator had the best room next to Grayris. It was spacious, with high ceilings fit for a towering Eliksni aristocrat, and decorated with artwork and relics Cabal and, more acutely, Psion in origin. A massive goblet, carved from stone, rested on a white lace cloth in the centre of the chamber. The Senator stood beside it, dipping a finger into the swirling, sparkling liquid within and humming some sort of foreign tune.

"What's this 'mind-magic' about?" Norovoi asked. She tried to feign a casual air, but the Senator - and Psions at large, if any others still lived - made her uneasy.

"Mind-magic," the Senator scoffed, almost giving in to a laugh. "Who told you that?"

"Vynriis."

"That one is sweet. I never imagined any living creature could experience the same things as her and remain so... optimistic." The Senator glanced at her. "She was correct, though, if exaggerating."

"Are you going to root through my thoughts?"

"No. The dragon has already taken hold; I think it best I keep away."

Norovoi furrowed her brow. "The dragon has-"

"Tell me..." The Senator stepped away from the goblet. "Have you borne witness to any... strange dreams? Voices speaking to you in the land between sleep and awareness?"

"I... yes? Yes. The dragon did that."

"You understand what it is doing?" The Senator sounded surprised.

Norovoi nodded, vaguely irritated. "Yes. This isn't the first time I've crossed a drake."

"No. Of course not. Your people hunted them, isn't that right?" The Psion made a dissatisfied sound. "An approach bearing only a sliver of wisdom. Ahamkara are useful. Your Hunter made the right choice, recruiting this creature."

"I don't care."

"So you believe."

"What is this about, Otzot?"

The Senator's eye glowed. "Security. We cannot afford to invest in the same safeguards your queen employed."

"Not my queen," Norovoi muttered darkly.

"All the same. Her Wishing Wall was... ingenious, if bearing some oversights, but one does not need to bind these trickster-beasts - only deny them, keep them hungry for what rare scraps we throw them. Doing so blunts their claws, leaves them without teeth to bite. Renders them harmless."

"Harmless? I don't know about that." Norovoi crossed her arms. "We can't help wanting things. We're alive. Even a stray fantasy - the dragon could use that."

"Not if you guard your thoughts."

"Oh? And you're going to do that?"

Otzot shook her head, slowly. "No. You will guard yourself. I cannot muster the effort or reason to do so for you. Fortunately for you, it was one of your own kind who devised this protection ward. A Warlock spell, perfect for Lightbearers and all."

"Able to stop dragons?"

"It was designed for dragons. The nullscape, it's creator called it."

"Oh?" Norovoi frowned. "I heard that was a Voidwalker practice."

"It joins the mind with the Void - not the body. Even those without power beyond their flesh," Otzot spared her a pointed look, "can make use of it."

"Okay."

"You are comfortable with this?"

"No, but..." Norovoi grimaced. "Whatever we have to do."

Otzot nodded and sat down crosslegged - except in the air, hovering over the floor. Power crackled around her, through her Y-shaped iris, within her hands. Norovoi felt a pinching sensation at the back of her head, something like nausea building up. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and said, "I thought you weren't going to look through my thoughts."

"I am not. My eye is closed. I am only placing the ward within."

Norovoi felt really, really tempted to demand that the Senator stop, stop now, stop this immediately, but then Otzot dropped back into a standing position and the noise of her psionics faded away.

"It is done."

"Just like that?"

Otzot turned back to the goblet. "I am a surgeon of the mind; do not doubt me."

"And... I'm protected?"

"In part."

"'Course. Because that's what I want to hear." Norovoi grumbled. "Are we done? Is this done?"

"Yes and no. I must tend to Nivviks and Castus, but then we may release the dragon."

"Release the..." Norovoi blinked. "You're letting it out?"

"Yes." Otzot glanced at her, unfazed. "The dragon boasts as much danger to us confined as it does free. Whether it remains in captivity matters not. I think it ideal to allow the beast to assist first in small ways, to gather what sustenance it can, so as to build understanding between us."

"But... out-"

"Does this bother you?"

Norovoi straightened despite herself, hesitating only for a brief moment. "No. I... I don't care." She turned to leave.

She heard the Senator murmur behind her, "Repeating the same phrase over and over does not make it true."


The nullscape... was there. Norovoi actually felt it a few hours later, like an added weight on her mind - not inducing pressure, but not hidden away. It was obvious; supplementing the weak Praxic-grade mental blocks she had in place, dampening her dreams to the outside. When she went to sleep that night, there were no voices in her, no forlorn calls to visit the creature in the cells. Nothing.

The next morning she made her way to the observatory room with a tad more chipper attitude than she usually did - and quieter too, what with her boosted spirits hammering home that no one was reciprocating, bouncing back waves of small joy. Her mind was empty, lonely, a hearth gone cold.

She missed the voice.

"You're up early," Gaelin noted, slouched over the ill-fitting metal table Grayris had almost a week ago dragged into the centre of the room. Norovoi slipped onto the bench beside him, attention momentarily drawn by the view of outside - stars, stars and look! More stars. Always the same.

"How far are we?" she asked.

"Past Haumea. We're in the Kuiper Belt for real now. Full steam ahead for the 'Cloud."

"That's..." Norovoi bit the inside of her cheek. "That's our first real gauntlet, then."

"First?" Gaelin echoed with a bitter laugh. "The Reef wasn't easy sailing either, remember?"

"But we got out. Got through."

"You don't we'll do it again?"

"Not sure." Norovoi looked away. I probably won't, she mused, the cold realization setting in all over again. Otzot had wasted her time on her. Grayris too. Probably for the best she'd kept them at a distance, shot down any attempts at camaraderie; she wasn't going to last long enough to warrant friendship. Her mortality was assured with Err-

With Erratz gone.

"Not looking forward to what comes after, anyways," Gaelin continued. "Never been to deep space myself. Sol's my hunting grounds. Leaving it is... it's like leaving a part of myself behind. I still can't believe we're doing this."

"We don't have a choice." You don't. Doesn't matter about me anymore.

Gaelin shrugged; she watched him out of the corner of her eye. "I know, it's just... home is home. City lost its lustre, sure, but Sol is where all humanity - where we - rose from the dirt and made something of ourse- What the fuck?!"

He was up and pointing a blade of shimmering Void faster than Norovoi could process, but her own instincts kicked her into action almost as quickly, cannon drawn and hammer thumbed back. It took her a moment to comprehend that they were aiming at Therin - and another man, Awoken, a smile dancing in his eyes.

Oh. Right. Dragon.

Something was different about it- About him. Wait... yes, the eyes. No longer completely black; they'd adapted colour, evolved irises, produced pupils. It gave the Ahamkara a more human look - and actually threw her for a loop, how big a change they made recognition-wise.

"You let it out," Norovoi observed. "And brought it here."

"We're all warded, yeah?" Therin asked, hands held up in mock-surrender. "You're safe, Gaelin."

"I think I'm starting to regret this," the Exo growled, Void still burning. His spectral dagger cast fumes; Voidsmoke gradually took over the otherwise clean smell of the place. Norovoi felt like she was on the precipice of choking on old battlefield memories. Void had never answered her call. The only time she'd ever encountered it had been in others - foes most, allies few.

"It's alright, Gael, no need to-"

"Don't call me Gael." The knife disappeared. Gaelin-4 grabbed his bowl of gruel, walked around the table and sidestepped past Therin and the dragon. "I'm not party to this."

"Wait." Therin's arm shot out. He was... holding something. A bar of some kind. "Will this help?"

Gaelin looked between the proffered object and back to Therin - and said nothing.

"I trust you with it," Therin assured him. "More than myself, even. This is your area of expertise."

"Senator, more like."

"But she doesn't need this."

Gaelin groaned, grabbed the thing and left the deck. Just like that - gone.

Norovoi reseated herself, slowly. Her cannon she rested on the table, still ready, and with her free hand served herself a small portion of nutrient-soup, ladling herself a spoonful. Therin and the dragon sat down opposite her, casual and the like. As if their resident tracker hadn't just stormed out. As if there wasn't an Ahamkara of all creatures with them.

For real, though. A true-to-form dragon among them, sitting at their table. What was Therin thinking?

"Where's your self-preservation instincts?" she asked between spoonfuls of disgusting rations-and-water.

"Where's yours?" Therin snapped back, barely paying her any mind.

Back on Earth, shattered to a million pieces. That's where. Norovoi shrugged and, with a wary glance the dragon's way, returned to her godsawful breakfast. Ooooh, the food was to die for. Literally. One more morning of... this, and she was out the airlock.

Not like there was much else to keep her anchored.

"You could wish for otherwise," the dragon offered in its sweet, sweet voice. Like honey translated into audio form, whisper-soft and silk-smooth. It watched her right back, still grinning, still looking for some way into her good graces.

"You're desperate," Norovoi scoffed.

"So are you."

"Just my natural state of being, lizard."

"Who woulda thunk?" Therin muttered. He shot her an irritated look. "Don't humour him."

"Like you do?"

"I've been taking stock of everyone on the ship, and you're our one liability."

"You turned quick," Norovoi mused.

"Don't change the subject."

"I'd rather give up talking with you altogether."

Therin narrowed his eyes. "Don't screw us over, Nor. You might not care about anyone right now, but if anything happens, I'll make you care."

Norovoi snorted. "Good luck," she mumbled through a mouthful of bland mush.


She didn't see the dragon again until the afternoon swung around - or near enough, Klyfiks had been semi-right in that there weren't any true days aboard the Ketch, so time got iffy when one didn't look at a chronometer in a while - in the hangar. Norovoi had been rummaging through the wreck that used to be her jumpship, trying to sort out the scrap from her belongings, when a knock emanated down from the rear ramp. "Yeah?"

"Wise lady-"

"Fucking hell." Norovoi rolled her eyes. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Norovoi," Vynriis called out. Norovoi peeked around the corner of what was previously the cockpit and spied the Vandal standing just outside the ship, dragon next to her. She looked... freaked out. "The... this one has followed me here. I... please take it away," the elika pleaded.

Norovoi thought about telling them she didn't care (it had worked with most everyone else), but Vynriis had done her the decency of 'leaving her the fuck alone', so... "Dragon. Stop following her."

The dragon - Azirim wasn't it? - smiled and bowed. "As you wish."

"Yeah, sure."

Norovoi turned back to the weapons locker she'd only just tugged loose from the mess of wires and paneling where her small armoury used to be. She still had some things safeguarded within, good stuff with wicked tech, but the problem was that they were shut behind a high-grade plasteel lock with the very best of Ghost-level encryption systems. She couldn't open it - not without Erratz.

She was starting to realize just how little either of them had prepared for this inevitability.

Boots tapped against the metal floor. Norovoi looked over her shoulder as the dragon ducked inside. If the distinct lack of alien whimpering was any indication, she suspected poor Vynriis had hightailed it. Probably for the best, that. The elika was too pure for their dreadful company.

"Please, wise-"

"I swear to fuck, shut up."

Azirim was, blessedly, silent for a time. He just... stood there, and watched her try and fail to crack open the locker. She gave it a solid go, too. The crew needed what was inside. She wasn't to last long, one way or another, but they deserved better. Better than her, more specifically. The least she could do was leave them her backup armaments. Ten minutes came and went, and Norovoi tried her damndest to rattle the container open. No such luck.

"Fine," she groaned, only a touch dramatically. She made a show of standing up and dusting her workpants clean. "You try."

Azirim made an amused sound. "I, wise lady?"

"Yes you, fancy lizard."

"Do you wish it?"

Norovoi closed her eyes. "I'll probably end up wishing for you to keep your trap shut," she grumbled. She raised her voice, "Just... do something with it."

Azirim swept past her - he smelled like cinnamon incense, somehow - and crouched before the locker. Just that. Didn't reach out to look the digital-lock over. Crouched there and looked at it.

Norovoi stifled a snort. "You alright there?"

"This may take some time, fair lady."

"It will if you keep doing that." Norovoi hesitated, then patted his shoulder. Azirim looked at her. "Good luck."

She walked out and didn't look back.


"Vynriis owes me one."

Nivviks made a noncommittal sound. Maybe. It was hard to tell past the heavy rebreather he wore. He gestured to Klyfiks. The engineer groaned and tossed the old geezer a canister of ether. Nivviks swapped his old one out and attached the new to his mask, taking a deep dragging gasp.

Music was playing. Therin's Ghost, a boisterous little thing by the name of Smudge, was replaying old pre-Golden Age classics and chilling between the gathered Eliksni. The air was thick with the smell of ether - sugar-sweet, hospital-clean. Grayris was there, sitting against the back wall of the ether-den, along with their resident tech-genius and the old guy, all of their faces bared. Only Vynriis was missing - working with Gaelin on something, Norovoi had been led to believe.

"They are..." Grayris waved through the air, as if to capture runaway words. "What is the term... thick as burglars, yes?"

"Thick as thieves," Norovoi corrected.

"Thick as thieves, yes, that was it. Ridiculous..."

"If you're about to go off on a tirade about human idioms and metaphors, just kill me now."

Grayris took a swig from her mask. "I am tempted, human. Sorely tempted."

Yep, still a little upset. Ah well.

"How?" Klyfiks suddenly asked.

Norovoi looked at him, lounging across what may have passed as a sofa for Eliksni, but as, to put it simply, uncomfortable for humans. "How what?"

"How would you die?"

Nivviks chortled, giving Klyfiks a lazy stare. "You are funny," he said tiredly. "I think I almost like you."

Klyfiks looked between him and Norovoi. "I... was asking a question. Not joking."

"I know."

"... You are strange."

"No you," Nivviks retorted in his best 'human' voice, then set off laughing all over again.

Norovoi grimaced. "Aphyxiation is quick-ish, but... naw. It really isn't. Drags on."

"You would know," Grayris added.

"I would, actually. Burning's not much better either. I'd say... exposure. To very, very low temperatures. Yeah, that's the easiest one."

Klyfiks nodded. "Eia, so I have heard. Does it hurt, though?"

Norovoi frowned. "You planning on something?"

"I- No! Nama, no."

"He will not be departing our company any time soon," Grayris affirmed. "He is too curious, our young Klyfiks, and this adventure promises too much for him to pass on."

Klyfiks nodded along, vigorously. "Eia. That."

Norovoi accepted it and looked down at the ground. The ether traces gave the air a faint blue tint, forcing everything through a spring sky-hued lens. It was... different.

Different kept her from hurtling towards the edge. It distracted her. At least momentarily - and every moment counted when you could time your estimated lifespan on a twelve-hour wristwatch.

Grayris shifted; they all noticed. Hard not to when their Baroness was a twelve-foot tall giant, garbed in armour so finely constructed it would have made an Archon Priest jealous. "What is this song, little Light?"

"Huh?" Smudge perked up. "Oh, this? You like it?"

"Make it louder."

Norovoi glanced up, interest piqued.

"-ock on, ancient queen,
Follow those who pale in your shadow.

Rulers make bad lovers
You better put your kingdom up for sale, up for sale.
"

Grayris flinched - and badly at that. Norovoi frowned, Nivviks too; they'd all noticed. Grayris... didn't do that. She was stolid - she was immoveable, a force all on her lonesome.

Smudge saw it too. The music turned down. "Is... is something wrong?"

"Keep playing," Grayris requested. "Please."

"What's-"

"This is my song," the Baroness declared. Just like that.

No one argued. No one really understood what was happening, but no one argued all the same.

"Shatter your illusions of love?
And now tell me is it over now?
Do you know how?
Pick up the pieces and go home
Go home
Go home

Ooh, pale shadow of a woman
Black widow
Pale shadow of a dragon
Dust woman
Ooh, pale shadow of a woman
Black widow
Ooh, pale shadow, she's a dragon
Gold dust woman.
"

Nivviks relaxed. "We cannot return to Riis. I know this pain, Grayris-Mrelliks. I feel it-"

"Nama," Grayris said, head shaking. "Not that. Not... no. Rulers. We..." She closed her eyes, all four of them, and scrunched them shut.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to Grayris. Norovoi looked at Nivviks, at Klyfiks, at Smudge, but they were just as clueless as she was. When her eyes drifted back to the Baroness, she found the Baroness staring at her, and acutely at that. Studying her. Thinking about something.

"I loved..." Grayris's mandibles flared. Her voice cracked - more than was usual for Eliksni. "I loved one of yours."

"... Risen?" Norovoi reluctantly guessed. This was not supposed to happen. She didn't like this, whatever it was, happening.

Grayris hesitated - actually hesitated, as if there had been someone in the BEFORE, a Guardian, who'd stolen her heart(s). Was it just the one? Eliksni anatomy wasn't her strong point. "Nama," the Baroness eventually answered.

It made a whole lot more sense right then.

Norovoi winced and vacated the ether-den pretty quickly after that.


She was a coward. Maybe - no, yes, yes, definitely. She was running from everything - and everyone. This wasn't... no. Wasn't right. Wasn't... supposed to happen. Grayris was the Winter noble; she was unshakeable. Nothing, no Hive god, no Vex simulation could change that.

But a song could.

A fucking song.

Norovoi knew she was letting herself feel more rattled than she really ought to, but that had been one of the few things she'd still been sure of - that Grayris, for good of ill, would not falter. Would not yield. That was the truth that had been sold to her.

Just like an eternity of Light.

Thanks Erratz.

She stopped... somewhere. Near her room, anyways. Just a couple of corridors away.

"My lady."

"What the f-" Norovoi twirled around, heart racing and fist held aloft - but the Ahamkara was still a few paces away, studying her with those reptile eyes of his. "Sweet Traveler above."

The desire-drake smirked. "Not anymore."

She reined in her breath, instilled a forced calm - and oh, the nullscape liked that. "No," Norovoi bit out, "not anymore. The hell do you want?"

"I breached the container."

"You... wait, you did?"

"I did." He tilted his head.

There was something... comical about his stance. Human. So human. Feigned, all of it - or at least that was what she told herself. Wait, no, what? Doubts didn't help anyone - least of all her.

But did it matter?

"Thank you," Norovoi grunted. She narrowed her eyes, peered at his face. Curiosity, the little rascal emotion, reared its ill-timed head. "How the hell are you still alive?"

Azirim said nothing.

"You must be starving. Biding your time?"

"Perhaps."

Norovoi lifted her head, exposed her neck. "Here's your chance. Have yourself a bite. No one will care - I've made sure of that."

Azirim stayed where he was. Still stared at her.

"This isn't a trick. You know it isn't."

"To some degree."

"Nullscape bothering you?"

"Yes."

"This is real. This, here? This offer? It's real. Get it over with."

He stepped closer. And stopped. "Death... is the food of the shortsighted. Desire, drawn out, is the long-lasting feast. I ration - as you do, wise lady."

"Grayris enforces those rations. Not me."

"You comply."

"It's not my place to say otherwise," Norovoi scowled, "being mortal and all."

"I ration," the Ahamkara repeated.

"Rations leave people hungry. Same for you?"

Azirim inclined his head.

"Can't have that, can we?" Norovoi shook her head. "Make the most of this. You won't get this chance again, I promise you that. No one else is as generous as I am."

"I am aware."

"Oh? How's that?"

"I know you."

Norovoi's mouth went dry. She didn't like how... well, most of it. "We've never met."

"We did."

"The Hunt?"

Azirim shook his head, eyes never moving away from her own. He didn't even blink.

"Before, then?"

"Yes."

Norovoi pursed her lips. "Your kind are charlatans. Nice try - but you might want to give your next lie some work, though."

"I lied to you once before," Azirim whispered, lips threatening to break out into another irritating smile. "I will not lie to you again."

"That's... that's great," Norovoi sarcastically drawled. She didn't like this. The waiting, just giving her traitorous mind time to form regrets. "Last chance."

"I killed you once before. I will not kill you again."

A silence for over the corridor. For a long time, neither of them said anything.

"Liar," she eventually told him, voice wavering only a little. Norovoi suppressed a shiver. "If you're not going to rip into me, then say what you want. I'm not in a mood for word games."

"I want..." Azirim paused, as if saying it was an experience all on its own. "The familiar. The BEFORE."

"Don't we all?"

Norovoi inhaled deeply, glanced up and down the corridor. No one was around. The Ketch around them was quiet. A dragon roaming the hallways and no one around to watch it? Everyone was going to die. Therin was such an idiot.

Her gaze fell back on Azirim. She... thought it over. Something to take her mind off the myriad second-thoughts vying for her attention, the traitorous little things. And he watched her - watched her think, peered at her every thought process like the nullscape wasn't even there.

Otzot's protection evidently wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

"So I make a wish?" Norovoi inquired at long last. "How does it work?"

Azirim didn't reply. Didn't say no, you're fine, no thank you, but didn't say yes, make a wish, go on either. All he had to do was nod; surely he knew that, surely he could glean that much. Wasn't like there was much else for him to do.

"I don't believe you," Norovoi decided. "But I'll humour you. You're hungry."

That went without saying. Azirim smiled, finally, and said, "I am Ahamkara."

"I know," Norovoi replied, and in that moment she understood what he meant. She hesitated, paused - anger could have worked, but she was fresh out of that. Desperation? Maybe - no, wait, not anymore. Purposelessness kinda shot that down.

Then she decided. Because... why not? What else was there to stick around for? What other good was there?

"Fuck it," Norovoi muttered. She smiled to herself, laughed under her breath. She looked Azirim up and down - and yeah, why not? Experiences and all that. He'd been a charmer anyways, despite her brusqueness - despite her efforts. A part of her liked that. It was all a façade, but a façade was all she had left too. Pots and kettles and all that. Besides - she had time to kill. All the time in the world. 'Least until she inevitably decided done was done.

Norovoi pushed away from the wall, motioned to him and said, "C'mon."


AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!