Chapter 23: Harmonic Hues II
Hunting Ahamkara was tricky business. Ikharos likened it to tracking wild boar. Both were smart, aggressive, and incredibly dangerous at close quarters. The big difference was that the Wish-Dragon could kill him once and for all. He was highly conscious of the fact: that at any moment the hunt could have turned around, and he would be the prey.
"Don't fight it, no matter what," he warned Formora. "It's not like anything you know. It shatters reality by just existing. Do not, do not, lower the nullscape, or it will kill you in an instant. They feed off desire. Stray thoughts and open minds are a death sentence."
"I understand," Formora nodded numbly. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword and the grip of the sidearm he'd tossed her, her knuckles going chalk white.
Ikharos exhaled. "Alright. Xiān, equipment, now."
"On it," the Ghost's eye dimmed as she rummaged around the vault. Formora never let Xiān leave her fearful sight.
Ikharos tossed aside his remaining gauntlet, put down the Rider's longsword, and slid on the replacements that dropped out of transmat. Bracers of metallic turquoise feathers protected his forearms, glittering green and purple when the light caught them just right. Sleek bone and scales of a long dead beast shielded his hands, forming claws on his index, middle, and ring fingers. Ikharos could feel the potential, the power, the freedom boasted by the pieces. The feathers helped him gather the Void and the claws were a perfect medium for the hungry abyss to pass through. He found he could grasp that thin thread of power far more easily than before, which was a breath of relief; he had too little Light as it was. It didn't help that where they were was a Darkness zone, saturated in Light-inhibiting energies.
His Braytech armour, battered and broken beyond repair, was replaced with elegant flowing blue robes and silver armour. Each thread, each plate, had been meticulously worked over by Awoken armoursmiths to achieve a perfect balance between mobility and protection. His replacement bond - a golden circlet - threw out a small blue hologram of a drawn hunting bow. Along with that, he tossed a mechanical quiver onto his back and lifted up the carefully maintained combat bow. He unfolded the weapon and tested the steel thread string. It was in excellent condition, making a faint twang as he let go. Ikharos reached over his shoulder and the quiver ejected two arrows for him to grasp and pull out.
Formora gasped and stared. She reached out and then thought better of it. "What is all this?"
"Compound bow with a titanium weave string and holographic sights. Reverie Dawn armour, best in the Reef, and meant to survive the horrors of the Dreaming City. And this," he tapped the bond with a finger, "is fitted with Techeun jewel-augments and an anti-acausal sigil." Ikharos rolled a shoulder - the armour was flexible enough to allow for the movement. "This isn't my first Ahamkara hunt."
"I've never seen a bow like that..."
"Yeah. This type of bow is usually more energy-efficient than other bows, through use of a pulley system."
"Usually? Not this one?"
"No. This things needs considerable strength. That's on purpose, so that each arrow has the strength to penetrate an Ahamkara's armoured hide at three hundred paces." He held up two of the arrows, one which had a tip that separated into four wicked blades. Both were made of sleek lightweight steel and fletched with polymer fins. "Hollowed fixed-blade broadhead. Each has a small chamber close to the point filled with Void. It delivers a potent venom that will kill most everything twice over. This, on the other hand, is a hollowed bodkin arrow, filled with Arc. Each arrow sends thousands of volts into its target." He fitted the broadhead to his bow and put the weapon down.
"And... what of these?" She gestured to his hands.
Ikharos slid bullet after bullet into the hand cannon's chamber. "The prize of Venus. I fashioned them during the Great Hunt after I killed my first Ahamkara. Bones were all the rage back then. I've since neutered all residual ontopathic tendencies after seeing what they did to other Guardians. This is my hunting garb. The mark of my trade. Without other Guardians or any means to recharge my Light more quickly, we'll need every advantage we can get."
Formora looked up into the reflective visor of his helmet. "And it will protect you?"
"Not entirely. Just from the worst of it."
"Is... is there any for me?"
"I don't have another suit of Braytech if that's what you're asking, buuuut... maybe there's a couple of things. I might have a few spares." Ikharos told her, speaking as softly as he could. He mentally ordered more items from Xiān. Then he gently grasped Formora's arm and fitted a brace, lifted a small circular buckler shield, and activated the magnetic lock. A large rounded shield attached to the bracer and held firm. Formora peered closely at it.
"It doesn't weigh much," she remarked.
"No. It's a Sentinel Shield, forged of hadium steel. It was a gift from a friend, but shields aren't for me, so you can have it. It'll ward away stray bolts or flames, just don't get into the thick of things. Even the best of armour doesn't hold for long." Ikharos sighed and handed her a helmet. "Here. The Obsidian Mind. It has a radar. If it flashes red, that means hostiles are nearby."
"Thank you," the elf whispered, slipping it on. The wide shaded visor showed a dark and distorted reflection of himself, muddled by angles and the off-putting lighting.
"Wait." He reached to the side of her helmet and activated the comms unit, syncing their channels. "We'll be able to speak over some distance with these. I don't think there's anything..." He remembered something and instantly quashed the idea. "Yeah, that's all I have. Sorry I don't have more. I didn't think I'd have to fight another dragon."
"It isn't a dragon," Formora shivered and looked up and down the alley. "Dragons aren't like that."
"Yes, they are." Ikharos reloaded his Lumina - he had another few rounds left and that was it. He holstered the hand cannon, folded up the bow with the arrow still readied, and held up the purple sword. It glittered in the dim greyed light, a previously unseen pattern dancing down the blade like a serpent.
Formora's breath hitched and she stepped closer. "Give me that!"
Ikharos was too surprised to put up much of a struggle. "But I... I'll need something! I'm running low, here!"
"Use your other sword. The one of flames."
"I can't, that was Light! I won't have enough to do that again for days! Weeks, even, if we stay here!" The extra length might have been able to keep the Wish-Dragon at a distance. Nothing frightened him more than them. Not even Oryx, for all his terrible might.
The Ahamkara bellowed. It wasn't far off. Formora looked so very conflicted, then shoved the purple longsword into his hands. "Afterwards, return it to me," she sternly told him.
"Of course." Ikharos would have agreed to anything at that moment. His supplies were running out fast. A gun was useless to him when it couldn't fire. He couldn't help but think back to the last time he had fought a dragon; Riven had bitten deep into the Guardians' ammo reserves. And then she had bitten into them.
He shivered. Ikharos never wanted to experience anything like that again.
"Remember, nullscape up," he warned. Formora nodded.
They followed the trail of blood further and further into the city. Ikharos estimated that, given its size and the close press of tall buildings, it could have housed millions in its hayday. Such a massive settlement would have been bound to attract attention, but he had the sneaking suspicion that it was contained in a pocket dimension, and the gateway they had discovered was the sole entrance. No better a hiding place. The sky was completely dark, devoid of even stars or clouds. Dozens of miles away, looming above all else, was a colossal ovoid monument that exuded a stark brightness from every inch of its surface, illuminating all around it. The places not directly within view of it were lit up with greyed lamps. Ikharos wondered what grudge the architects had against other colours.
There were more Frames within the city, and those were fresher. They were armed guards, and they moved in roving bands with the perfect synchronization of trained military units. Ikharos and Formora danced around them, keeping out of sight and using magic to cover their heat signatures, but it was a close call each and every time. Frames didn't have the limitations of living soldiers. Lifeless drones like those couldn't be as easily distracted.
They weren't always so lucky. Just when he thought they were closing in on the wish-dragon, a bundle of robots swung out from behind a building and raised rifles.
"Down!" He heard himself yell, and pulled Formora with him behind a low garden wall. A bullet slammed into his shoulder and ricocheted off his shoulder plating. He folded up his bow and attached it to the quiver, then tore the Lumina from its holster and fired off three shots. His targets fell, and one of the bullets tore through the fragile innards of one robot to carry through into another behind it. Four was a good number.
Formora ducked her head and raised her shield. She held up the sidearm and pulled the trigger. She killed all of one drone. The recoil surprised her, evidently. Ikharos frowned with disapproval; that would have to be addressed, but after he'd dealt with the attackers.
"I count fourteen," he said. "They're separating. Trying to surround us."
"What do we do?"
Ikharos formed a grenade in his hand and tossed it overhead. It landed in the midst of the robots and spouted limbs that shot out and grasped the Frames, pulling them in. He'd been about to open fire, but the elf beat him to it.
"Brisingr!" Formora snapped. The Frames were engulfed in a contained explosion and ripped apart. Not one was left standing.
Ikharos holstered his cannon. "Nice going. We need to move. The noise must have attracted others. We don't want to be here when a veritable army of them comes rushing in."
"Their weapons!" Formora exclaimed.
Ikharos nodded. "Right."
They vaulted over the wall and raced to the torn husks of the drones. Red-hot shrapnel littered the concrete pavement, making their movement difficult. Ikharos snatched up the first rifle he found and recognized it immediately: a Braytech Winterwolf.
"Damn good hardware," he remarked. The weapon glowed with heat, but the model was notoriously resilient. He spied another three in salvageable condition among the wreckage. "Xiān?"
"Got 'em." The Ghost appeared, transmatted the rifles away, and disappeared.
Ikharos gave the scrap pile another glance over, but nothing grabbed his attention. "Let's move."
Formora followed his lead as they delved ever deeper into the maze of a city. The silence unnerved him. Even if the people were absent, there should have been birds. Rats. Even weeds. But there wasn't a single living thing.
They cornered the blinded Ahamkara in an alley with only one exit. Ikharos drew his bow and sternly told Formora, "Stay out of this. You don't want to get involved. Trust me."
"Trespasser!" The wounded dragon snarled and gnashed its teeth. The Gatekeeper's body was like that of a huge bat, with abnormally large ears to compensate for the lack of eyes. Its head was shaped like a lion's, but with huge sabre teeth sliding past the lower jaw. Its long rat-like tail whipped back and forth, tipped with a chitinous blade. "You will die for your sins!"
"I'll leave you to it." Formora looked up and about for Frames. "Be quick."
Ikharos inclined his head and loosed the broadhead. It struck home, hammering into the Ahamkara's shoulder. It screeched and tossed about, trying to dislodge the bolt, then raised its wings to escape. Ikharos quashed that hope by sending an Arc arrow into its wing. It fell back down as electricity coursed through it, the flesh sizzling where the arrow pierced.
"Tr-tr-tresssspa-assser!" Qortho wailed.
"You're not going anywhere," Ikharos growled. He sent three more Void broadheads into its body as it summoned the courage to charge straight at him, using its wings as forelegs in the frenzied scramble
Ikharos rolled out of the way and sent another shaft into its hind leg. The monster convulsed and swung its head about, snapping its jaws just where he had been standing. Ikharos continued to back away, putting more and more envenomed missiles into it until the broadheads ran out, and the front of the dragon bristled with arrows.
"Tres..." It seethed as it crawled. Ikharos put away the bow and drew the purple longsword. The dragon's ears twitched as the metal scraped against the scabbard, but it wasn't deterred in the slightest. "Master..."
Ikharos ducked beneath the wild lash of its tail and sliced off the bladed end. The monster tried to hurtle its mass against him, but he Blinked past and bloodied its exposed flank. A collection of glowing violet cracks began to emerge across the Ahamkara's body, alerting him to the venom at work.
The dragon suddenly bellowed and opened its maw. Ikharos darted to the side as a steady stream of flames burst out and enveloped the alley. His personal shield cracked and shattered, utterly depleted, but he managed to avoid getting singed. Unfortunately, it left little room to maneuver. Ikharos Blinked up past the burning pool of flames and to the side of the Ahamkara, shoving the longsword into its flank and using his momentum to tackle it. The dragon yelped and slammed against the wall of the alley, shaking the neighbouring building.
Ikharos grunted and put all his effort into forcing the monster down, his arms holding tight to the rough-furred mass of the beast. The clawed fingers of his gauntlet sank into its tough skin, keeping a steady grip. Qortho struggled wildly, but the effects of the venom and all the injuries it had sustained had left it diminished, and it collapsed under the strain. It weakly snorted, trying in vain to get back up. Ikharos let go, tore out the sword, and raised it up to deliver a fatal downwards strike.
A bullet ripped past the side of his helmet, throwing him off-kilter, and his longsword only glanced off the dragon's ribs. Qortho bucked him from its back and dragged itself away. Ikharos would have followed if a hailstorm of bullets hadn't begun to pepper him. He Blinked away and drew his Lumina, shooting the heads off four Frame gunners by the alley's entrance.
Next thing he knew, a figure was beside him, wrenching the cannon out of his hand and slamming a heavy fist against his stomach. Ikharos stumbled back and lashed out with a palm strike, the shockwave tossing the attacker away. He found himself staring at the grim visage of a military-grade Exo, clad in tight black body armour with silver faceplates and pink eyes. More bullets forced him back. He spotted a new line of Frames at the end of the alley, moving in with quick mechanical movements, their empty lifeless optics only for him. He could hear more gunfire behind them as Formora clashed with another bunch.
Ikharos threw a grenade into the midst of the robots. They died noiselessly, ruptured by Seekers, but he had no time to savour the victory. The Exo came in close, holding a combat knife, and sliced at him with methodical prowess. Ikharos ducked and dodged, he danced and darted, but the Exo never tired. He didn't expect it ever would. He tried to fight back, but a sword was ill-suited for such a close-quarters brawl, and the blade was sent clattering away. Ikharos adapted, using the durable feathers of his bracers to ward away blows and he picking up the Rider's sword with the edge of his mind. He slung it straight back. It pierced the Exo's chest, stopping it before it could deliver a final flourishing slice that would have taken his throat. The mechanical thing - once human - looked dumbly down at the purple blade that sliced right through its body to emerge on the other side.
Ikharos didn't give it time to comprehend its predicament, slamming a fist against its face and crushing the sleek silver skull with a shower of sparks. He stared down at the corpse with surprise, and tugged the sword free of its dead husk. "Troubleshooter?" He asked aloud.
"Looks it." Xiān agreed. "Like Felwinter and... Lennox. That body is ExSec."
A primal grunt diverted his attention. The dragon was scaling the building at the end of the alley, each movement laggard and hesitant.
"Not this time," Ikharos stated, and he threw the Rider's sword. The blade took it in the spine. The Ahamkara gave one final scream and fell on its back, hammering the sword in. Its chest rose once, twice, but it never reached a third.
000
The shield provided ample protection, but a graze on her shoulder from a stray bullet taught Formora that seeking cover would have been more ideal. The Frames stopped firing, however, when a new figure raced past them and straight for her. She lifted the shield just in time to prevent it sticking a knife into her neck, and raised the projectile weapon she'd used on Frames, but the new creature laughed and grabbed her wrist as quick as any elf and twisted. She cried out as the bones snapped and the gun fell from her limp grasp. She struggled and the stranger let her go, grinning with its strange metal jaws. An unsettling magenta light glared out from both its eyes and maw, throwing her off. Never, in all her years as a Rider, had she ever encountered a creature like this. Or any of the monstrosities of the dreary grey city, for that matter.
"You shouldn't have come!" The creature teased. It sounded masculine, but its voice had the same unusual echo as Ikharos's had when he spoke through his helmet. "It feels like yesterday since I last killed one of your kind!"
She lifted the shield and tried her best to block every strike. The stranger took his time - he was enjoying it. Her only consolation was that the Frames weren't shooting her down.
"Who are you?!" She demanded, working over the wording of a spell in her mind. Her sword! She needed her sword! The energy within the garnet would be more than enough!
The stranger tilted his head, still grinning. "Kohen Three, servant of the Master."
"Gah, stop playing with it!" Another voice called out. A second metal creature like Kohen Three stalked past the Frames. They looked much closer to humans or elves than the other lifeless constructs did. "Qortho's still in trouble!"
"Let the lizard rot!" Kohen Three angrily shot back. Formora was glad for the split-second chance to catch her breath. "He deserves-"
A mighty crash interrupted whatever he had been about to say. When the smoke cleared, only Ikharos stood amidst the carnage that had once been the Frames and the other metal creature.
Kohen Three froze and stared. "Oh shit," he said simply.
"Oh shit," Ikharos agreed, and shot him in the head. Her attacker dropped, dead. Ikharos's sword was slick with blood and gore; she assumed that meant he'd finished with Qortho. His armour was scratched, but he looked otherwise unharmed. He looked her over. "Are you alright?"
Formora nodded. "Waíse heill," she muttered. With her arm mended, she picked up her sword and sheathed it. "Is it finished?"
"Yeah." Ikharos didn't sound very sure. "I think. Still Dark, though."
"What does that mean?"
"That the Gatekeeper wasn't the source. Didn't it say something... about a Master?"
Formora shrugged. The last few hours had been a horrific blur of chaos and panic. She looked down to Kohen's prone form, a smoking hole between his dimmed eyes. "What is this... thing?" She nudged the body with her boot.
"Troubleshooter Exo. Specialists in everything from assassination to sabotage. Weapons of a Warmind." Ikharos scooped up a Frame's weapon and tossed it to her. "Or a Submind."
"Are they the source of Darkness?"
"No. They're human-made, and humans aren't usually Dark. We're more in tune with the Light, as is everything we make. We can, however, be corrupted." He looked about. "The Ahamkara didn't do this."
"They called the Gatekeeper 'lizard.'" Formora said. "They didn't respect it very much."
"Really? Then it definitely wasn't that monster. Think you can keep going?"
Formora really wanted to say no. "At what point do we turn back?"
"When we kill the source."
"What if we don't?"
"Then we might have a world-ending scenario on our hands. By breaching its defenses and killing its servants," Ikharos jerked his head in the direction of the alley, "We might panic it into hurrying its plan. Whatever plan it might be. Can't be a good plan; creatures of the Darkness have a tendency to disregard the sanctity of life."
"And you don't?" She challenged. Surviving yet another life-threatening encounter had emboldened her.
Ikharos chuckled. "Touché." She had no idea what that meant. "But I believe in preserving innocent life. Of humanity at large."
Formora huffed. "Not elves? Or dwarves, for that matter?"
"Elves are part of humanity too-"
Something quick, something big, flew out of the alley and slammed its heavy head into Ikharos, flinging him into the buildings across the street. The Ahamkara breathed in rapidly, its coat of fur falling away in clumps as thick reddish-brown scales grew to replace it. The ears gave way to twisted horns, and new yellow eyes opened up across its skull. Now, it truly resembled a dragon. And it glared right at Formora.
"Oh shit," she echoed, and pulled the trigger. A barrage of bullets exploded out of the weapon; evidently, accuracy was not the core aim. Or perhaps she was just unaccustomed - which wasn't entirely out of question. None of the projectiles did much harm to her target. The dragon - for it truly was one - roared and loosed a river of flames. Formora raised her shield and hunkered down. It held, only just. She could feel the searing heat on her skin from mere proximity.
When it ended, Formora drew her sword and shouted, "Jierda!"
The energy generated by the spell thundered forward and slammed into the dragon with a crash, tossing it back. The shapeshifter opened its wings to slow its fall and pierced the stone road with its claws to keep a grip. When the magical force passed, it jumped and beat its wings, flying towards her.
A massive orb of purple energy struck it out of the air. The dragon screamed. Formora flinched as the shrill sound assailed her ears - it was far too familiar for comfort.
Ikharos ran in with his sword at the ready and, as Qortho snaked its head towards the Risen for a bite, the warrior struck the side of the dragon's head with the longsword, raking a bloody scar across its face.
Formora was close behind, all fears forgotten. This was a battle she understood. When the claws of the beast reached for her, she deflected them away with the resilient shield and stabbed her sabre into the vulnerable tendons of the limb. Taking advantage of the distraction, Ikharos somehow managed to get past the fangs of the beast and leapt onto its back, slamming his sword down with all his strength on the space between spines, where the saddle of a bonded dragon would be placed.
Qortho shrieked and reached back to snag him with its teeth, and in doing so exposed its neck. Formora wasted no time in thrusting her sabre forward, then slicing it horizontally, opening up the Gatekeeper's throat. It did not take long to die. With one final call that reverberated about the city, the Gatekeeper perished. Ikharos and Formora retreated and watched as the flesh melted away in a sudden influx of green fire, leaving gleaming ivory bones. Ikharos wordlessly destroyed the remains with a wave of terrible Void.
Then he turned, and though they both wore helmets, Formora could tell he was scrutinizing her. Finally, he said, "Well done. You've killed an Ahamkara."
Formora heard the praise but didn't feel like she deserved it. That didn't prevent the horrible emotions welling up in her. For a moment she wished she could be as cold a killer as Ikharos. Guilt was a disgusting thing that dragged her to the recesses of sanity. It was almost as bad as loss. "I thought you already killed it?"
"So did I. I guess I should have stayed back to make sure, but I heard your fight with the Exos and I made my decision. But hey, we're alive and they aren't, so..." He gave her a thumbs up.
Formora, too tired to humour him, groaned. "Are we finished here?"
"Not yet. Soon, I hope." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you. For helping me."
Gratitude. That was new. She could hang onto that, like a lifeline to tug her out of the oppressively cold waters. "You're welcome," she answered with a degree of uncertainty.
Ikharos nodded and began walking in a random direction. "Come on."
"Where to?"
"I'll hazard a guess and say that the monument at the centre is pretty important."
They had been in the city for the better part of a day by the time they reached the monument. They had encountered a couple of other packs of Frames, but it was nothing they couldn't handle. Though each was a battle for their lives, they'd developed a working system. Ikharos would tether the constructs with the Void all together, and Formora would cast a spell to destroy them. She found that merely disconnecting certain parts of them - such as the neck joint - was far less costly energy-wise than tearing them apart with a full-on explosion.
They were resilient and perfect soldiers, she would admit, but they had no way to combat magic. Still, she could see them taking mages by surprise with their damage-resistant bodies, lack of thoughts, and single-minded determination. They didn't fear. They could not be bartered with. But they were ultimately unimaginative.
When the buildings gave way to the monument, they found it surrounded by a wide circular plaza. The centre of it gave way for the gargantuan hovering object, lined with railings, and hole beneath descended into an eternal abyss. But they never truly focused on that. No, their attention was on the ovoid.
It was clear and bright, cut of a smooth shining diamond with not a single flaw. Within floated a vaguely humanoid figure curled up into a fetal position. Its skin was silvered metal, and this looked natural as opposed to the artificial design of Frames or Exos. Twin horns spread outwards from its skull like outstretched wings. It had no face, just a single jewel in the centre, dulled and dimmed. Its form was lined with muscle, with a powerful body and lithe digitigrade legs. And it was tremendously enormous. The creature within the monument rivaled great Belgabad, largest of the dragons, for sheer size.
It made Formora feel very, very small.
"What is that?" She whispered. She feared that if she spoke loudly enough, it would wake.
Ikharos didn't answer for a moment. When she turned, Formora found him inspecting an inscription on the floor, but she did not recognize the runes. Fortunately, Ikharos read it aloud for her benefit.
"He is that which is end. That which covets sin. The final god of pain—the purest light, the darkest hour. And He shall rise again. When the guiding shine fades and all seems lost He will call to you. Fear not. All He offers is not as dark as it may seem. For Nezarec is no demon, but a fiend, arch and vile in ways unknown. He is a path and a way, one of many. And his sin—so wicked, so divine—is that he will never cower when dusk does fall, but stand vigilant as old stars die and new Light blinks its first upon this fêted eternity."
Formora shivered as the cold trickle of fear ran up her spine. "What is that?" She repeated.
This time he answered. "Nezarec. A god of pain and strife. Forged in the Darkness. I've heard of him through hacked Cabal records and old Awoken whispers, but I never thought... Oh. Is he... he can't be."
"Is he what?"
"He must be the Ascendant." Ikharos looked back to the giant within the diamond prison. "But these aren't Hive glyphs. The statement is repeated in a dozen languages, including Ulurant and High Eliksni." Ikharos paused. "He doesn't serve the Hive, obviously. But why is he..." An idea must have struck the Risen, for his voice took on a hurried note. "He's feeding!"
"On what?"
"Hive gods feed on death and destruction, but this world is still alive... Pain. Strife. That's the tribute offered up. It fits the transcription. His lessers and supporters are sowing misery as far as his presence can reach, like Ascendant Hive rely on their broods to offer sustenance." Ikharos twirled around. "The Shade!"
"Shade?" Formora asked, puzzled. "What Shade?"
"I fought a Shade a few months back. That's how the Darkness - Nezarec - discovered me. Because of a puppet. And there's the... Fuck. The temporal anomaly."
Formora stared at him. He almost sounded horrified. "The time trap?"
"No... Yes! Exactly! He uses time to isolate this planet. Four hundred Earth years pass outside, but it's thousands of years here. That's why there's such a discrepancy in local history. Because it's being stretched out for all its worth."
"Why?"
"So he can gather his power, build up his strength. But for what?" Ikharos paused. "What does he want?"
A terrifying thought struck her. "You're saying that Shades are his puppets?"
"They must be. I haven't seen anything else remotely related to the Darkness, aside from Nezarec himself. They spread chaos. They are extensions of Nezarec's will."
"But what if someone has been influenced by Shades?" Formora asked urgently. "Are they connected to this... Nezarec?"
"Possibly?" Ikharos began to pace around. "Scipio warned me of an infection. That could be how Nezarec earned the loyalty of the Submind and its security units... Why do you ask?"
"The king has a Shade."
Ikharos dipped his head. "Yes, he did. I've seen it riding with a contingent of soldiers escorting something... But they weren't affected in the slightest and the Shade is dead. Infection must necessitate longer periods of exposure. Or perhaps a ritual. Or... hell, I don't know."
"You killed it?" Formora had an inkling to who that might have been, but there was no way to know for sure. It had been decades since she was in the fold. The king could have recruited another.
"Yeah, I shot him."
"Which part of him did you shoot?"
"The head."
Formora shook her head. "He isn't dead. Unless a Shade is stabbed, or perhaps shot, through the heart then they will reform elsewhere. The process is excruciating for them, and a sure way to earn their ire, but they will return more powerful than before."
"I didn't kill it?" Ikharos was aghast. She couldn't imagine why.
She shook her head. "No." Formora glanced at the giant. She refused to think of it as a god. Gods didn't exist. They didn't. "And Galbatorix is closer to Durza than any mere soldier."
"Durza?"
"A Shade in his employ and perhaps the very one you fought. Galbatorix met it as he trekked through the wilds after he lost his dragon, Jarnunvösk. Durza taught him dark secrets and spells. The king still uses them to this day."
"Then he's another puppet," Ikharos decided. His jaw tightened. "Nezarec might not be in direct control, but he's certainly pulling the strings."
"That is behind it all? The Fall? The countless murders?" Formora pointed to the creature, Nezarec. She could scarcely believe any of it. "It's responsible for all the tragedies that occurred?"
Ikharos nodded. "It is."
She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her sword. "Then how do we kill it?"
Ikharos removed his helmet. He didn't appear optimistic, if the grim expression was anything to judge. "We can't."
"Why not?" Formora demanded hotly.
"Because he's still receiving tribute. We can't reach him without waking him up, which puts us at a severe disadvantage. He's almost as powerful as Crota. We'd need more Guardians, for a start, but Scipio won't let me leave this world." The Risen gave it some thought. "We could starve him. Force him into waking in a weakened state. We couldn't do that with Crota because he had an obscene amount of Hive working for him, but this guy is different. If we destroy his servants, that should have an impact. It'll still be a risk, but better than letting him continue until he needs this world no longer."
"We must hunt down every Shade we can find?"
"And anyone else acting in Nezarec's interest. This king sounds like the perfect proxy for a dark god."
Formora nodded along eagerly. Gods were nonsense, but the rest? Durza and Galbatorix? Those were targets she could settle for. "So the king dies?"
"He dies, along with every Shade we can find. Especially Durza," Ikharos vowed. He gazed up at the sleeping monster with obvious disdain. "And then I move onto this psesiskar."
000
"This city must be his Throne World," Ikharos murmured. A warm pulse raced up his arm; Xiān agreed. The place resembled Eleusinia more than High War, which was all kinds of disconcerting.
Beside him, Formora hummed a tune he wasn't familiar with. Since they'd left the monument - with Nezarec still sleeping soundly inside - she'd been in a very chipper mood - or at least in better spirits than before. He'd try to understand why later; right now he had the urgent matter of a Darkness-imbued deity to think over.
The Frames made that difficult. The drones still in operation were riled up, and converged on the duo at almost every block with reckless abandon, but each offensive was quickly put down. He and Formora performed a systematic slaughter of the robots at every skirmish. They found no sign of other Exos, but Ikharos doubted there had only been three in total. He figured that the Submind was holding them in reserve - Frames were cheap, but Exos were too valuable to throw away, and he'd already put down three of their number.
The worst part was the gates. The Void flames had long since run out, but the horde remained. The old rusted Frames shambled towards them like classic horror film monsters.
"Wait," he said, before Formora could utter the words to fight back. He grabbed her shoulder and dragged her with him into the eternal abyss waiting beneath the fabric of reality. He forcibly grasped the hungering beyond and molded it into a tunnel, a corridor with two doors, and let go.
With a bang, he and Formora landed on the sandspit right by the small ship they'd arrived in. The elf stumbled away and breathed rapidly, falling to her knees. Ikharos exhaled in relief. The absence of Darkness was a blessed feeling. He felt free, like a caged bird whose confines had been broken open.
"We just... you... Warn me next time!" Formora barked.
Ikharos smiled. "Sorry." He stretched his arms. "Aaaah. This is a good feeling...
"What is?" Formora grumbled.
"Victory. The universe has one less Ahamkara to worry about. Ready to leave?"
"... Yes." She climbed onto the nameless boat. Ikharos looked back a final time into the murky distance. He'd have to return at some point. And challenge an Ascendant-level threat on its home turf. If it had been in Sol, with the Traveler's Light washing over everything and reinforcements only ever a few minutes away, he wouldn't think twice before throwing himself into the fray, but here he was alone. Here he had to wait days for enough Light to create a Super. The odds weren't in his favour.
"Hurry!" Formora called to him. "Before they come for us again!"
Ikharos huffed and rolled his eyes. "No patience..." He muttered. He joined her and pushed the ship away from the shore with a push of an oar. "What's our heading?"
"Vroengard. I must gather the Eldunarí and the rest of the swords. And you're going to answer my questions."
"Ah. Yes. That. Let's get home first, yeah?"
000
Utter devastation littered the street. She would have been impressed by the level of destruction if it hadn't been for the clean-up. She found Kohen with a bullet in his head. He'd taken it like a true champ. She was still going to give him hell over it.
"What happened here?!" Deacon-3 thundered past the 55-30 Frames and held out his arms in a dramatic fashion.
Sibyl-3 smiled just to make him nervous. "We missed the fun. Your mark came by. Tore right through the gates."
"Right through? What about the lizard?"
"Dead."
"Damn." Deacon stood there, his optics flickering rapidly. "What is-"
"Are you just going to stand there?" Sibyl kicked over Kohen's corpse, drew her combat knife, and pried out a spinal disc located just below the dead Exo's skull. She tossed it to Deacon. "Get him up. He has some explaining to do."
"He's going to be pissed."
"It's that or you explain to Zenobia just why your mark not only escaped you, but infiltrated the Master's city."
Deacon didn't stay long after that. Sibyl scoffed and moved onto the next body.
000
They left the ship by the shore with a rope tethering it to a firm rock and trekked back to the tower hideout. The moment they arrived, Formora went straight for her bags and produced a clear glass bottle. She loosed the stopper and took a gulp, then passed it over to Ikharos.
"What's this?" He asked.
"Faelnirv," she answered. "Drink it."
Normally he'd ask for a reassurance that it was safe, but he reckoned they were past that point. He delicately sipped it and found it to be excellent. It reminded him of sweet cider that the Hunter packs found preserved in ancient cellars. None of it would ever make it to the city; packs would devour the stuff. It had often been his good fortune that he would be with them when they made those discoveries. "It's incredible," he breathed, and handed it back.
"Potent," Formora murmured. "It can keep a warrior marching for days with naught else to eat or drink."
"That's useful," Ikharos mused.
"It takes time to make. I brewed this with elderberries and moonbeams over seven weeks."
"Certainly worth it." The taste lingered pleasantly. He felt his exhaustion fall away as renewed strength suffused his tired muscles.
She sat on her bed and looked at him expectantly. "Now's the time to explain it all to me."
Ikharos closed his eyes. "Yeah, thought you'd say that." He lowered himself down and knelt. "Where do you want to begin?"
"The part where you claim to be from another world."
"I am."
"Explain it."
"I'm from another planet. One called Earth. It's the birthplace of all humanity and most life seen on your planet. Fish, birds, horses, badgers, wolves, dolphins, trees, flowers, mushrooms, all of it came from Earth. They were brought along by a human colony ship that intended to seed this world."
"They sailed?"
"Not exactly, no. When I say ship, I mean spaceship. Ships that fly through the air and the nothingness of the space between worlds. Um... your planet is a sphere."
"I know that." Formora narrowed her eyes. "My people have known that for a very long time."
"Ever think what was beyond the atmosphere surrounding your world?"
"Stars?"
"The stars are suns of distant solar systems. Lots of those suns have planets to orbit them."
She paused, then nodded. "It makes some sense. That must mean a lot of different peoples."
"No, I said planets. Most planetoids are lifeless rocks covered in ice. Only a small few have the right conditions to support life, and fewer still actually have their own forms of life. But yes, there are a lot of different peoples. It's very rare, but intelligent life will find a way. And a handful of those intelligent species have survived to the present."
Formora blinked. "What do you mean? Is there a barrier that they must overcome?"
"Yeah. Mostly in the forms of other species. Let's use an analogy... You know about wolves, right? Let's say we brought a predator from a distant land and put it here, which begins a rivalry with a local wolf population. If they both prey on the same animals, they'd come into conflict. Eventually, one species will survive and the other will be rendered extinct. It's like that, but not for food. Intelligent species are more... complex. The Hive are the oldest of all those I've met thus far, and they're the main cause of driving other species to extinction. They worship the act of killing. It's their chosen belief that they have been selected to exterminate all other living things in the galaxy. The Uluru are the dominant species of the empire they founded, spanning hundreds of worlds. They expend themselves fully into whatever project they've picked up, and war is not exempt. They've inducted dozens of other peoples as lesser citizens or slaves. The Eliksni have lived as outcasts everywhere. The Hive destroyed their home but couldn't manage to truly wipe out their hardy race. And humanity... well, we've had help, sure, but we've held our own because we're surprisingly gifted at fighting. We can change tactics and adapt to whatever threat we face quicker than most."
"Is your pet spirit one of those?"
"Xiān? Not a pet. A friend." He held out his hand. The Ghost appeared in his palm and met Formora's stare. "She's been with me from the very beginning. She's a Ghost, and they're unique in that they are direct descendants of the Light." Xiān retreated back to his mind. Formora turned her attention back to him, her cold expression masking what he assumed to be nervousness or shock. It was hard to tell.
"What of elves?" She continued. "Are we not powerful enough?"
"Elves are part of humanity."
"We aren't humans," Formora objected.
"No," Ikharos said. "Not baseline humans, but you are neohumans. A subspecies of human originating from homo sapiens. The same goes for Awoken, Exos, and Urgals. I've not seen dwarves, but I've read that they're pretty humanlike, so likely them too. Your distant ancestors were humans. I don't know whether this evolution was a natural adaption or a byproduct of genetic manipulation, but the fact remains: elves are part of humanity."
"We are too different from humans."
"No. No you are not." Ikharos smiled. "Pointed ears and a heightened affinity for paracausal abilities are the only real difference. We're diverging from the original point, let's rewind. There are lots of planets, but very few that can house life. The colony ship arrived here because this world is suitable for human habitation."
She looked annoyed by the change in subject. Or maybe being called human. He wasn't sure. "What kind of vessel can fly through the air?"
"An awful lot. Remember that jumpship I pointed out in the graveyard before the grey city?"
"I do." Formora nodded slowly
"That's one such ship. They're designed so that even in the vacuum of space, the crew can live within insulated internal chambers. Spaceships possess engines. They're machines that power the rest of the functions of the ship by consuming fuel of one kind or another. Thrusters exert enough force to lift them up and away from the ground. It gets significantly easier once they leave the pull of gravity to move. Look, it's a technology that's been developed over hundreds of years. We could spend months discussing how they work, and we have other things to do in that time."
"Fine," Formora relented. "But I fail to see how an entire world could be populated by all the life packed away in a single ship."
"It's a big ship. And they didn't just bring live animals or full-grown trees. They brought embryos and seeds, enough to build up a healthy population."
"Embryos?"
"... You know what they are?"
"I'm familiar, I just fail to see how one could extract an embryo and lug it about."
Ikharos huffed. "They would have been frozen during the journey and then born in a... Well, to put it simply, an artificial womb. When born, procedures would have been followed so that they follow the normal behaviour of whatever animal it is and released into the wild once the environment reached acceptable conditions of habitability."
"All this sounds too fantastical to be true."
"Yeah, the technology is advanced, and lost to the people of this world."
"Not to yours?"
"I wouldn't be here otherwise. I arrived in my own ship. Which was shot out of the sky by Scipio, the bastard."
Formora tilted her head. "When?"
"During the summer of the previous year." Ikharos paused. "You know, that must be Nezarec's doing. I don't know why he'd make the length of years and cycle of seasons here identical to those on Earth. It's baffling."
"Is there any way to be sure this isn't some tale?"
"I could swear that it's the truth in the ancient language, but... Look, why don't I show you?"
"What do you mean?"
"We'll go to the Exodus Prime tomorrow. I have a few things of my own to collect before we head back to the mainland anyway, so we were going to make that stop regardless. Might as well make the most of it."
She hesitated. "That would be... Is it safe?"
"No. But it has to get done. If he's feeling charitable, Scipio might even answer a few questions." Ikharos stood. "That fair?"
Formora nodded reluctantly. "I'll accept that."
"Excellent." Ikharos stood and went to leave. He stopped by the exit. "Thanks, again. Seriously. I might not have made it out alive without your help."
"I didn't do much," Formora admitted.
"You were an incredible distraction." Ikharos grinned.
She sighed, then lifted her arm. "What of your shield? And helmet? And... this?" She held out the sidearm. "Don't you want them back?"
"Keep them. I doubt I'd ever have used those anyways." Suddenly remembering the sword, he unstrapped the sheath from where it hung over his back and held it out. "How about I trade it all for this?"
Formora rose up abruptly. Even with a helmet on, Ikharos understood that stance. She walked over with a brisk pace and grasped the purple sword delicately, as if it were a fragile thing and not one of the most resilient tools ever forged. Her visor dipped down as she gazed upon the weapon. Then, so quiet that it was a whisper, she said, "This was his sword."
"Whose?"
"Kialandí's."
"Tread softly," Xiān warned him. He didn't need to be told twice.
"Who is Kialandí?" Ikharos asked carefully.
Formora didn't answer for a very long time. When she did, she raised her head to meet his stare. "He was my brother."
"Oh," he said, unable to word anything else. No wonder she had an attachment to it. Now he felt guilty. "No trade then."
Formora ignored him, sliding her fingers over a small rune etched into the blade just above the silvered crescent-moon guard. "He named it Orúm."
"That's the ancient language," Ikharos guessed. "What does it mean?"
"Serpent. When held up in the light of a full moon, the blade will glitter with scales."
A thought struck him. "What about your sword?"
"Mine?" Formora gave a bitter laugh. "Vaeta. Hope. Ironic, no?"
"Your brother was a Dragon Rider?"
"He was."
"And was he..."
"Forsworn? Yes. Galbatorix captured us when we were scouting the northern reaches of the Spine. We'd let our guard down; we didn't anticipate that anyone could survive without the assistance of a dragon in those cold wastes. There are fantastic things that way. Great beasts covered in thick fur that roam the vast stretches of snow, as large as the animals of the Beor Mountains."
Ikharos hummed thoughtfully. "I see." She spoke of him in past tense. Kialandí was almost certainly dead. Ikharos refrained from asking.
Formora handed it back. "Take it. I don't like longswords - they need both hands and I prefer to wield either magic or another weapon alongside my own sabre. And," she added quietly, "perhaps its luck has changed. I think you would put it to better use than he did."
"Thank you," Ikharos told her, meaning it.
By the next day they reconvened by the ship, hefting bags and supplies onto the wooden vessel. Ikharos was well-rested and in relatively high spirits. Though the challenge ahead was daunting, he was glad to have finally found his purpose. The directionless and hopeless reality he'd faced before was oppressing; he hoped that the future would be simpler - though he had a suspicious feeling no, it wouldn't be. Gods never made things easy.
Formora was cheerful too. For the first time, Ikharos saw an innocent smile, brought forth by Xiān's eccentricities. The Ghost was much more of a people person than he ever was, and given time could disarm anyone with jokes and overexaggerated tales.
All in all, Ikharos wasn't upset about leaving Vroengard behind. Destroyed buildings and the constant threat of radiation poisoning, coupled with hostile predatory snails as large as Sparrows, were not his idea of a comfortable stay. On the other hand, he was glad for the opportunities the wild island granted him. He had learned how to cast a couple of spells and carry out the most basic of conversations in the ancient language with Formora. He'd found the answers he'd been searching for since his arrival on Kepler-186f.
They worked against the waves to paddle the small ship out of the hidden cove and followed the shoreline south. When they reached past the southern headland of Vroengard, Ikharos donned a wetsuit, had the ship halt in the middle of nowhere, and dove in. The waters were cold and clear, just as he remembered. The only thing he could see were the odd sparkle of tiny fish or a distant shadow in the depths below, which he suspected were sharks. Ikharos summoned a quick of Arc, which sent every nearby animal scurrying for safety, and waited. The dolphins weren't long in coming; they recognized his sounds by then and their hearing was acute enough to catch it from miles away.
"killer - friend - fins - breathe! - happy! - worried - old machine - strong currents?" The first of them, a squeaking subadult, froze in place as it caught sight of the wooden ship's underside. "danger! - curious! - friend?"
"It's alright, it's with me." Ikharos held out his hands, though he suspected the gesture would be lost on them.
Then another creature swept past the young dolphin. Ikharos almost panicked and went for his knife as he noticed the sheer size of it and dark colouring, for a moment thinking it a shark. He'd once spoken with a Hunter who swore up and down that the white sharks of the open ocean were as ferocious as Kells and far more deadly, proudly bearing the scars of an attack that nearly took his arm off. The teeth marks were gruesome, and it instilled in Ikharos a wariness of delving into the foreign habitats where the great predators lurked. The odds of attack were astronomical, but that didn't stop his mind from jumping to conclusions.
The animal passed by only inches away. Ikharos breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the tail fluke - it was horizontal, like whales and dolphins, as opposed to the vertical structure of sharks and fish. The strange animal swam around in a loop to see him once more, granting the Warlock a better view.
It was larger than any bottlenose dolphins, though it shared a similar body plan. The head was more robust and the skin was much darker.
It spoke much like the dolphins, but the translator allowed for a deeper tone. "friend - killer - respect - fight - shark - whale - serpent killer - knows song?"
"What are you?" Intrigued, Ikharos forwent his initial worries and kicked forward. The unusual dolphin peered back at him with one dark, beady eye. It was a powerhouse compared to the others, and they were strong animals themselves.
"warrior - respect - killer - whales - serpent." It answered.
"A warrior breed." The concept fascinated him. "But what makes you different?"
It understood him clearly. "mother - hears song - doesn't know song - sings different - father - knows song - sings true - duty - fight."
Ikharos blinked. "Ah. I think I understand?"
"respect," it said once more.
"Respect," Ikharos echoed.
The abnormal dolphin trilled. "respect!"
"Ye-es. Ok." He cleared his throat. "A friend of mine is on the ship above, and we need to reach the Exodus Prime. Old machine, right? Can you lead us on?"
A trio of bottlenose dolphins joined their unusual brother and chittered amongst themselves. "yes! - swim - strong current - sing - happy! - friend!"
He swam back to the ship, where Formora was waiting to help drag him back aboard. "What did you do?" She asked.
Ikharos jutted a thumb over the side. "I've found us guides."
She looked past him. He heard the snort of blowholes. "Dolphins."
"Yes."
"They're normally so skittish..."
"They call me friend." Ikharos smiled. "They're a treasure."
"What is that? The animal larger than the dolphins?"
Ikharos shrugged. "Hybrid of some sort. Designated as a warrior caste, if I've understood correctly. Come on, they're waiting on us."
The dolphins led them some distance onwards. When they reached the submerged mountain - which wasn't anywhere in sight from the surface - they swam around the ship and splashed the water with claps of their tails.
Ikharos instructed Formora to wear the helmet he gave her.
"Xiān can give you air if you do. We're diving straight down. It'll be a hundred metres or so."
Formora gave him an odd look. "You should have told me before. I could have made arrangements."
"To dive? You have equipment?"
"Nothing so crude," she answered mysteriously. "I might have used magic to grant myself gills."
Ikharos grinned. Formora didn't.
She donned the helmet. They slipped into the water and allowed themselves to sink below the calm surface. A small school of dolphins were loosely arrayed around them, swimming slowly. When they were ready, buoyancy optimized, the dolphins led them further down. The massive wreckage trailed as far as the eye could see, grasped by pulsing red fingers. The sight of SIVA always put him on edge, and Ikharos hadn't even partaken in combating the Crisis.
He led the way from there, swimming right into the hanger. When Formora emerged behind him, she kept looking about to take in the unfamiliar scenery. Once she'd had her fill of staring, Ikharos marched with her through the expansive inside of the ship and straight to Taox's chamber.
The SMILE pod didn't open. They only found Frames waiting for them. The moment the robots walked into view, Formora visibly stiffened.
"They're Scipio's, not the Submind's," Ikharos told her. "And they're not combat Frames."
"What are they, then?" She whispered.
"Caretakers. Janitors. Shopkeepers. Builders. 55-30 series. Cheaper to build, weaker materials, less intelligent programming." A red light took over the optics of the Frames. "Not that the intelligence programming matters anymore. Scipio's here. Now they're whatever he wants them to be."
"Status report," the foremost Frame demanded in a deep modular voice.
Ikharos sensed more than saw the elf reach for a weapon. He briefly grabbed her wrist and shook his head, then said, "I killed an Ahamkara that called itself Qortho. There were Frames and a handful of Exos, nothing I couldn't handle. I would, however have liked to have received a forewarning about the Submind." Ikharos let go and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Inconsequential. Threat remains?"
Ikharos bristled, though forced himself not to act out. There were still active turrets all around them. "Nezarec is alive, yes. What is he?"
"Subject species: Qulantnirang. Error: Abnormalities. Hypothesis: Airan modification."
"Harmony," Ikharos breathed. "He's Harmony. But... nevermind." He shook his head. "Even if I could reach him, he'd be too powerful. I have a plan to weaken him and draw him out."
"Elaborate," Scipio ordered brusquely.
"It's a matter of paracausality. Nezarec functions almost identically to the Hive, with whom I have clashed with in the past. Like their Ascendants, Nezarec functions upon an existential economy based on violence orchestrated by his worshippers and loyalists. He's using the anomaly to gather power more quickly than his rivals elsewhere, for his farming-harvesting method is slower than outright slaughter. He has agents across the planet, or at least the nearby landmass, to gather this tribute for him and pass it on. Nezarec's hibernating, yes, but his will is at work. The titles used by the locals for these agents are Shades, and it's possible they've in turn manipulated others to gather this tribute too. I'd recommend an immediate airstrike on all such targets."
"Negative," Scipio replied. "Cannot carry out airstrike. Temporal anomaly disallows airstrike."
"Aw, psekisk." Ikharos angrily gritted his teeth. "Is there any way you can kill them?"
"Negative."
"Fine... Fine! I'll track them down. There can't be many, or Nezarec will risk drawing attention." He glanced at Formora. "She's an asset. I request that she be given a briefing, as her upbringing hasn't included... well, a lot of things."
The Frame turned its red optic onto her. "Designation?"
Formora fumbled for a response. "Wh-what?"
"He wants a name," Ikharos explained.
"Formora," She answered, then added, "Of the Láerdhon branch of House Rílvenar."
Scipio paused. "Affirmative. Genetic analysis identifies subject designated: Formora Láerdhon. Subject species: Homo pythonicus." The robot turned back to Ikharos. "Activating ARTORIUS subroutine. Subject: lifeform sustained by [O] energy. Rank: Troubleshooter."
"I'd rather not," Ikharos protested. He wasn't anyone's lapdog.
Scipio continued, heedless of his complaints. "Lifeform designation: Legate. Permissions: R5. Authorized to oversee THREAT: DUSKRISE. Activating CALIBURNUS subroutine. Error. Error. Error."
"What's happening?" Formora whispered.
"I'm... not exactly sure." Ikharos shrugged. "I can speak a lot of languages, but Warmind isn't one of them. I'm going to hazard a guess and say he's trying to support us. In his own way, of course."
"Support us how?"
"Hopefully let us requisition equipment if we so desire." Ikharos' eyes brightened. An eagerness overcame his growing frustration. "I'd like to see what he has squirreled away in the armoury."
"Provision: R5 specialist Kida 99-40."
"He's giving us a Frame," Ikharos surmised. "What about weaponry? IKELOS armaments?"
"Affirmative."
"That's good. Any operable jumpship?"
"Negative. Error. Negative. Error. Affirmative. Error: excessive damage."
"Can you fix it?"
"Negative. Provision: R5 specialist Kida 99-40."
"Yeah, yeah, I got that." Ikharos paused. He nodded to Formora. "If you want to start asking him questions, now's the time."
The elf took a deep breath. She appeared tense, but undeniably interested in all the Warmind had to offer. She asked, "What are you?"
AN: Next chapter will likely be considerably longer than any other. I might split it into two, we'll see.
Thanks to Nomad Blue for editz. Lifesaver.