"Your Geiger counter doing cartwheels, too?"

Kaelyn grimaces, even though he can't see it behind her visor. Going inland—which doesn't mean escaping the ocean, thanks to rising sea levels—has been a hazardous journey, with yet more Fog and more things to lurk in it. Here the trees are dead and stunted, their leaves stripped away in the sickening swirl of radiation, their trunks leaning in the stiff angles of rigor mortis. They died too quickly to mutate as other plants on the island have.

Despite Longfellow's every warning, there's no way to truly prepare for the pockets of Deep Fog. Kaelyn's Geiger counter clicks in alarm that she leave her power armor at her peril. Rad-x has left a film on her teeth that she feels when she swipes her tongue around her dry mouth. When she thinks to look, the Deep Fog has a green cast.

It's no Glowing Sea, but arrogance will prove lethal.

A radstorm creeps in as they reach the Children of Atom's commune, its sickly green light filtering through the Fog with every flash of lightning. The entrance to the old submarine base has been cordoned off into a crude courtyard, marked by barricades and litter. Banners that feature swirling black designs flutter in the encroaching wind, heralding Atom's questionable glory.

Kaelyn checks her Geiger counter one last time and sighs. Nothing to be done for it. Still, her fingers hover over the eject button, hesitant, until she musters the willpower to break the seals. At last, her power armor unfurls and a huff of cloying swamp air curls about her. Valentine's hand presses into her back, steadying her as she steps out. True to his word, he'd insisted on accompanying her as far as he can.

His yellow eyes barely jump out of the amber-cast Fog. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Leaving Valentine with her power armor, Kaelyn heads towards the courtyard, schooling her expression to flawless neutrality even as her skin crawls. The first time she had ever seen the Children of Atom was in the crater at the heart of the Glowing Sea. Mother Isolde had been wary, welcoming—and wacky. That they could stand at ground zero of a nuclear blast, the blast that ended her world, and call it glorious sickened her more than radiation ever could.

These Children are a different breed. Kaelyn steps into the courtyard to witness a test of faith where one adherent must shoot the other to be permitted back inside. Standing back and watching leaves a poor taste in her mouth, but she can't even betray her ambivalence, let alone intercede.

There is no forgetting these people are cultists.

After the execution is done, the Grand Zealot turns his attention to her.

To enter the Nucleus, she must first pass an initiation test. Of course, Grand Zealot Richter frames it as an experience granted to those Atom considers worthy—and has ominous warnings about 'those who don't return'.

At first Kaelyn wonders if even finding the spring is half the damn test; there are a large number of irradiated waterholes on the island. Richter gave her only the vaguest of directions, proclaiming that she'll know it when she sees it. At least she's back in her power armor, but the comfort is cold. Unlike other parts of the island, this place is so otherworldly Kaelyn is jolted by surprise whenever they come across a road or power line. It's easy to forget there was ever a time before radiation ruled the land.

They skirt around the banks of the lake; about three-quarters of the way, a yellow glow through the trees lures Kaelyn inland, and she understands what Richter meant.

A sickly yellow pool huddles in front of a small spring where water bubbles free, cresting over the rocks. Poles strung with glowing lights—at a second glance, lightbulbs half-filled with toxic water—stand in uneven intervals around the pond. Barrels of toxic waste sit like fat pillars half-sunk into the muck, and there are small offerings left at the edge of the rocks. The water itself is a brew of witches' oils: molten sulfur with a roiling rainbow film, its slick texture without ripple. A tiny mud path winds through the pool to the spring.

"If it's a spring, the water should be coming out of the ground, right?" Her voice is hushed.

"That doesn't mean it's safe, doll. Especially not in this neck of the woods. It might be free of mud, though."

Kaelyn mutters, "Not helping, Valentine."

Drawing in a deep breath, she detaches from her protection. She rifles through her bag to swallow two more rad-x pills, but it doesn't settle her nerves. Her hair curls around her neck in the heavy damp as metallic thunder booms in the distance.

When she reaches the edge of the water, Valentine strides past her to block the path. Planting his hands on her shoulders, he fixes her with golden eyes. Worried eyes. "Are you sure about this?"

"Just... don't let me fall into the water. I don't know if I took enough rad-x to negate that."

Valentine withdraws slowly, reluctantly, granting her access to the path. Kaelyn takes small steps, her balance precarious on the sucking mud path. His gaze is heavy on her back. The water waits around her, swallowing any stray flecks of dirt that crumble away under her feet. One slip and she'll never surface again. Tucking her gloves into her belt, Kaelyn cups her hands under the water at the spring's source. It's neither glowing nor muddy, which is encouraging.

She takes one sip and gags.

The water fills Kaelyn's mouth with its rancid taste, closing her throat, leaving a film on her teeth. She doubles over, one hand shooting out to the rocks for balance as she coughs and splutters. Her throat burns as what little water she managed to swallow crawls down her esophagus. The rock is wet and sticky and warm under her hand; she flexes her fingers experimentally as the air changes.

Another boom of thunder, simultaneously closer and farther away. She looks up and the sky is pure green. Atop the waterfall, the Fog coalesces into an apparition.

Follow.

So she does.

A shadow lunges from her right but she jumps away to pursue the figure. The apparition never fully materializes, their edges blurring more the harder she tries to make them out. While they have a rolling gait, they glide above the ground; tiny black tendrils curl out from their edges to hook on grass strands.

Swampy green-gray light suffuses the forest with an unearthly glow. A herd of raddoes rest under a copse of trees, their hides stippled with pulsing green. A radstag stands by the road, arching his proud necks. The figure brushes a thick tendril along the radstag's two noses and he snorts, lowering his heads. In a flash of lightning, the figure is illuminated and they're at last recognizable as a woman.

Atom's realm. Children's land.

The voice shivers through the air; it crawls under Kaelyn's skin. The shade darts away, her form a pillar of gray against the cloying yellow beams that suffuse the Fog, and Kaelyn is compelled to follow. Her heart pounds under her skin, in time with her loud footsteps, in time with the woman's laugh.

As quickly as the shade sped up, she slows until Kaelyn can almost reach out to touch her. Kaelyn gasps, "This— this can't be real."

The woman watches her with depthless eyes. One gnarled finger touches Kaelyn's breastbone. Within.

She chokes at the contact; the spot burns, itching through her skin to her heart. The sky above burns green.

With a whisk of Fog and the impression of a smirk, the shade leads on. The Fog moves differently—or maybe the shade moves differently within it. She never disappears in the oily haze, even as her edges refuse to be defined, and when she steps off the road Kaelyn doesn't hesitate to follow. Somewhere in the distance there's a woman sobbing, crying out between low rolls of thunder. The woman stops at the edge of a clearing, and past the treeline is a pre-war construction. A relic of a foreign time.

She points. There.

The shade suddenly stands beside Kaelyn without having ever moved. Her features are barely-present, ever-shifting, unmoored from the constraints of flesh. But there's something recognizable in her terrible visage, something that speaks to the grieving depths of Kaelyn's heart.

The shade tilts her head. Go.

So Kaelyn does. Shapes detach themselves from the ground, brushing so close by she can feel their lumpy skin, and launch themselves at another blocky shadow. As her hand curls around the handle, she looks back. The shade stands atop the hill, watching her with burning eyes.

Preserve. Bring them peace.

The words burn in her skull. She presses the heel of her palm to her brow but it doesn't relieve the pressure building behind her eyes. The handle dips of its own accord and she falls over the threshold.

The bunker—the shrine, something in the back of her mind corrects—is cluttered with ruined books. Shelves and desks, pushed to the edges of the cramped space, are piled high with books salvaged from the ruins. Any and all space is occupied by papers and glass flasks cradled in sawed-open skulls. A place of worship, or a place of learning, or both. There's a locked security gate and a working terminal, but the letters scrawling across the screen make Kaelyn's head hurt. It takes several moments for them to resolve themselves into words.

PASSWORD REQUIRED.

A warm draft curls around her chin, turning her head to the left. Pinned to the wall is a periodic table. Painted on the side of a bookshelf are the symbols for three elements:

Mo
Th
Er

She traces the squares and white paint crumbles under her finger. It has to be significant somehow. Kaelyn almost doesn't believe it when the terminal accepts MOTHER and grants her access. Trust a wacky cult to lock a computer then write the password on the wall.

The security door clicks open, permitting her access to the altar. Atop it rests a crude statuette carved from wood, circled by glowing flasks. Kaelyn runs her finger over the icon, from the crown of its head to its sagging breasts to its rounded hips and thick belly. She knows what those signify; she's seen them every morning in the mirror since she gave birth to Shaun.

Kaelyn's head grows heavier by the moment. Her blood pumps thick and sluggish through her veins, pounding in her temples. White stars bloom across her vision, and she reaches out for the nearest support. Leaning against the bench behind her, she pants and waits for the dizziness to subside.

When it does, Valentine stands before her, his eyes gold and worried, and catches her in his arms. "Are you all right, doll?"

Doubling over, she retches onto his shoes.

Valentine insists they stay put for the night and Kaelyn can't protest. He parks her power armor in the only space available: in front of the altar. They drag one of the tables in front of the door; or rather, Valentine runs her off when she attempts to help, and Kaelyn leans against the nearest wall before she falls over.

"That should keep the ferals out," Valentine mutters.

"Ferals?"

He stops, raising an eyebrow in her direction. "You didn't see 'em? Don't know why, but they were more interested in me than you."

She shivers. Wracking her brain, she tries to recall ever seeing feral ghouls on her journey. But then another detail strikes her. "How did you get here, Nick?"

Now he looks concerned. "Followed you every step of the way. You... never answered when I called out."

A frown flickers across Kaelyn's brow. "I never saw you. I was..."

Valentine unfurls from where he leans against the table and raises two fingers to her cheek. Exerting only the faintest of pressure, he traces a path over the dip of her temple to her forehead, where he touches the furrow in her brow. "You were what, doll?"

Closing her eyes, she leans into his touch. "I saw something, Nick. There was… a woman? She led me here."

Valentine cups her face in both hands, turning her this way and that. She cracks open her eyes to find his face inches from her own. "How about we check you out?"

His hands dig into Kaelyn's waist, almost enough to hurt, and he lifts her onto the table. He sorts through her satchel and withdraws the IV bag of radaway. She slides her jacket from her shoulders and rolls up her sleeve. It takes two attempts for Valentine to stick the needle in her arm, then she holds it in place while he checks over every inch of her body for injury. He isn't a medic by any stretch, but a cop of his experience inevitably collects some knowledge of wounds. He administers a stimpak anyway, to help ease her brewing headache.

Valentine stands in front of her, and Kaelyn drops her head to his shoulder. It's further down than she expects, given her perch. "I don't know what I saw, Nick, but it was strange."

He hums thoughtfully. "Some kind of hallucinogen in the water, maybe?"

"You think so?" She latches onto that explanation, something to make sense of the madness, some explanation that doesn't involve 'the radiation god is real'.

His expression is gentle. "What else could it be, doll?"

Seven hours later, she's throwing up again.

Rain drums low and hard on the roof, forcing Valentine to check their little haven isn't going to flood. When he's finished shoving sacks in front of the door to absorb any encroaching water, he checks the time on her pip-boy again. Huddled in a corner with nausea curdling her belly, Kaelyn presses her forehead into the cold, damp concrete and waits to die. Dirt and slime coat her face but she's beyond caring. She tugs Valentine's coat up to her shoulders and curls into a tighter ball. This is different to her earlier sickness; this is the fear of every worker ever exposed to radiation, preying on her mind with shudders and shakes.

She just wants to sleep or wring out her stomach, whichever comes first.

Valentine eases himself down beside Kaelyn, nudging away the bucket with his toe. His hands curl under her shoulders and he drapes her across his lap. She protests at first—puking on his trousers would be a real cap to the day—but he runs a hand along her back, tracing the curve of her waist, and she settles. After ensuring the bucket is in easy reach.

Valentine cards a hand through her hair, his touch light and comforting. His fingers run along her scalp in small circles, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise. She can feel the difference between his polymer fingers and her own human skin. When he frees his hand, he inspects the two stray hairs that have pulled loose. "You don't seem to be losing hair. A good sign."

But still he returns his hand to her hair, toying with the short ends. Kaelyn curls more firmly against him and waits for the nausea to subside. The hours pass in fits and starts and cramps, her body too pained for wakefulness but her mind too anxious for sleep.

Is this how it ends? Am I going to get cancer from this? Is this what Richter meant by those who don't return?

By the time her pip-boy proclaims it to be 7:24am, she still has her hair and internal organs in all the correct places. Kaelyn eases herself up and accepts a canister of water from Valentine, smearing grime on the bottle. Her first mouthful she swirls between her teeth and spits, while her next mouthful she gulps too fast, to the protest of her queasy stomach. She nibbles at mirelurk jerky, but only manages a few bites. Jaw aching, she wraps the jerky up and almost manges to slip it back into her satchel without Valentine noticing.

Ignoring his pointed look, Kaelyn shakes herself out and searches for her weapons. "We should get back to the Nucleus."

Valentine disagrees. "If you're going to infiltrate the Children, you need your wits about you."

Kaelyn can't complain too loudly since Valentine loans her his shoulder as a pillow. He traces patterns along her skin with his fingertips, smoothing away the hours until the last of her headache eases. Only the stiffness of an unconventional sleeping position remains.

When Kaelyn can keep down a decent meal, Valentine at last concedes that it would be wise to get moving. While prepping her power armor, she peers around its inert bulk to the shrine. The statuette sits on the altar, lit from below by the bottle lights that cast eerie shadows over its form. Struck by sudden inspiration, she finds a spare shirt to wrap the icon with care. It can serve as proof of her experience to Richter.

The slick green haze from yesterday has faded, but rather than being washed clean from the storm, the air is heavy with radiation. Their walk to the Nucleus is quiet, since watching for toxic puddles and irradiated critters don't make for good conversational opportunities. When the submarine base is in view, its banners beckoning all who heed Atom's call, Kaelyn again hesitates before stepping out of her power armor.

How much does she know about the Children of Atom, really? Enough to pass as an awed convert?

Before Valentine lets her go, he touches his lips to her hair. "Watch your back in there. I'll be nearby if you need me."

Thus bolstered, Kaelyn strides into the courtyard to prove to Richter she's still alive.