Calli turned on a lamp when they returned to the apartment. Just the one. It was dark out now, and that suited her just fine. Kiara gave her a look as she sat Irys down at the end of the table. "Not too harsh," her eyes seemed to say. Easier said than done.

Everyone was missing. Their rooms were empty, Amelia's workshop was deserted, and they weren't answering their phones. Odds were good that they were attacked too. Calli caught herself chewing her lip.

She placed her palms flat on the table and took slow, deep breaths. Every fiber of her being wanted to lash out and chop something up, but this wasn't an interrogation. Irys wasn't some tightlipped cultist that Calli could threaten for information. She was willing to cooperate, to help them understand the situation at hand.

They didn't need the reaper swinging her scythe.

Calli wasn't good at Kiara's way of doing things, but a softer touch was needed here. "Alright," she said, her tone steadier than she expected. "Let's hear what you have to say."

Irys nodded sharply, and with a deep breath of her own, she began, "My name is Irys, and I am hope as well as despair." She paused, clearly looking for some kind of reaction, but Calli wasn't about to give her one. They'd already fought civilization and life itself, so what was one more vague idea with a body?

"Go on. It's alright," Kiara said supportively.

Irys deflated slightly and continued, "We're all like that; fundamental concepts granted shape and consciousness. Myself, chaos, time, the cosmos, and you know the last two. We exist as the embodiment of our respective concepts as well as overseers. The six of us form a council of sorts, keeping the universe stable and on track. In turn, there is an administrator that watches over us and ensures we stay on task." She paused again, that same expectant look on her face.

"Get to the point," Calli growled. Not on purpose, it just kind of slipped out.

The fundamental concept twiddled her thumbs. She was looking a little green, and Calli's sympathy was waning. Another growl grew in her throat, but Kiara shot her a stern look. She wasn't too stressed to keep Calli in check, apparently.

She leaned in close to Irys and spoke softly, "Take as much time as you need. In the meantime, I'll whip up something hot to drink. How does that sound?" Irys smiled and accepted the offer quietly. Kiara turned slowly, giving herself ample time to wink smugly at Calli before retreating to the kitchen.

When Irys's attention returned to the conversation, her smile faded. She bowed her head, her face parallel to the table, and sheepishly raised her hand. "This is all my fault," she said.

Calli crossed her arms and grinded her lip between her teeth. Taking responsibility was a bold move. It would be easy to jump to conclusions and lay all the blame on her right then and there. Calli was sorely tempted to do just that. But she didn't. She took a page out of Kiara's book and gave it some thought.

What reason was there to attack them? The most obvious answer was retribution. The order trying to summon "ancient ones"–presumably the council–into the world was defeated, so they were out for revenge.

But that didn't make sense. They were here, in the flesh, even though the order failed. Why seek vengeance if you've already accomplished your goal?

It could be personal. The guardian of civilization, Kiara called her Mumei, was targeting Calli specifically. There was nothing impartial about the way she looked at her either. What was it she'd said? Something about necessity and circumstance holding her back? There was that bit about Calli impeding progress as well . . .

No, that didn't fit either. It could be said that Calli, as death, impeded the growth of civilization. If death wasn't a factor, there wouldn't be a limit to how far humanity could expand. But that logic didn't fit with Amelia's future. Civilization was in ruins and Calli was apparently still around. If that wasn't impeding progress, then what was? If anything, they'd ensured that civilization would continue to grow by changing the future.

The more Calli considered, the more a single thread stood out. She looked at Irys, went back over what she'd explained about the council, and it all came together. "We changed the future."

It was obvious. So much so that saying it out loud made her feel like an idiot.

Irys silently nodded. Her determination faded ever so slightly.

"So, that administrator doesn't like that we changed the course of history and now your council is out to get us. Is that the gist of it?"

Irys shook her head. "Not exactly. Changing the future will have certainly thrown a wrench in things, but I think the more pressing issue is how your actions affected me."

"Why would what we did affect you?" Kiara said, returning to the table with three steaming cups.

Irys took her cup and wrapped her hands firmly around it. The heat didn't seem to bother her. "I am hope, but I am also despair," she repeated, taking a sip. "The state of my being, one way or the other, can have profound consequences. Unlike most of the council, I don't have any direct control over the forces I embody. Whichever part of me is dominant at any given time sets a trajectory for the universe. The part of me that is despair was supposed to be setting that trajectory towards devastation. It's the natural order of things. My dual natures are in constant flux, an ebb and flow. It just so happens that despair was tipping the scales this time around.

"But then you and your friends came along, and the scales started to even out, and then they tipped the other way. And now I'm here," she chuckled. She didn't look happy. "I wasn't supposed to be hope, and I wasn't supposed to be awake. By creating the circumstances for those things to happen, you maybe kind of sort of trespassed into the administrator's realm of influence."

"That sounds . . . heavy," Kiara said. She took a loud sip from her mug, eyes wide.

Calli pushed her cup away. She suddenly wasn't in any mood for hot chocolate. "Can't the administrator fix this then? Like, flip your switch back to where it's supposed to be?"

"It isn't that simple, unfortunately. The administrator has a great deal of power and influence, but my premature awakening occurred outside of that influence, independently of their power. As far as they are concerned, the damage has already been done and cannot be reversed, and the perpetrators need to be taken care of before they can cause any more distortions."

"And that's where your council comes in, huh?" An awful taste bloomed in Calli's mouth. She felt a kinship, a sense of shared purpose, with the forces arraigned against her. After eons of ferrying souls, hunting down misguided cultists, and dispensing justice–a force of nature in her own right–it was her turn under the axe.

No, it wasn't just her. She had friends now, actual friends, and they were being hunted too. She couldn't afford to sympathize with the ones hunting them. What Calli and her friends did was right. A little universal distortion was a small price to pay. But that was just her perspective. If a cultist tried reasoning with her, she'd dismiss them from the jump. Violence was the only answer in a situation like this. There was only one destination at the end of this path.

"Can a concept even be killed?" Calli wondered aloud.

"No!" Irys shot to her feet and slammed her hands on the table, nearly toppling her mug. "You can't hurt them! Please!" Her chest heaved and her nostrils flared. It sounded like she was begging, but by the look of her it was more of a threat. Bold. "Something isn't right with them. I don't know what, but they wouldn't normally attack anyone. It isn't what we're meant to do!"

"That may be," Calli said, looking Irys dead in the eye, "but whether they're meant to or not, they are attacking us. If it comes down to it–"

"They're my friends!"

Calli didn't blink. She couldn't. She was transfixed by what she saw behind Irys's eyes. To call it determination would be a disservice. She wasn't just saying how she felt, she was speaking a truth from the core of her being. It felt like . . .

Calli's gaze flicked to Kiara for a moment. The phoenix was her dearest friend. Her only friend for most of her existence. Their bond was one strengthened over tens of thousands of years, something only possible because they were who they were.

Irys and the rest of the council possessed the same bond, that much was sure now.

"All right then. What's the plan?" Calli sat back in her chair and breathed deep. She still wasn't entirely convinced, but Irys had earned her respect with that little outburst. She was willing to bet on that.

The embodiment of hope drew up, her face reddening. She opened her mouth, but took a few seconds to actually start speaking. "I . . . I'm not sure, actually. I was thinking we could hold off until–"

"We can't wait," Calli had to be firm. It may have been the result of her nature as hope and despair, but they couldn't afford to let Irys waffle between action and inaction. "The council members are the aggressors here even if they are your friends. We can't just wait for them to come to their senses."

"Oh . . . I guess that's . . . true."

Kiara set her mug down and arched an eyebrow in Calli's direction. That was usually a bad thing, but this time, she actually looked a little impressed. She placed a hand on Irys's and said, "We'll try talking to them. I'm sure we can come to some understanding and resolve this without anyone getting hurt. Right, Calli?"

"Right." That was pretty optimistic, but when she really thought about it, Calli didn't want to hurt the council either. They were adhering to their natures and doing their duty. But that still left many of her questions unanswered.

Kiara was on the same wavelength, apparently, "I have to ask, we're in trouble for waking you up, but why did Mumei and the keeper come at us so hard? It was like they had something personal against us."

Irys shook her head. "They are my friends, but I don't know everything about them. We are our own people when the administrator sees fit to grant us autonomy. Whatever their reasons, I imagine it's some combination of duty and their personal experiences. They aren't always on a warpath, though."

That was comforting. The guardian of civilization talked about circumstance, necessity, and progress, but maybe that wasn't the whole truth. Either way, giving people the benefit of the doubt had served her well recently, so Calli decided to trust Irys.

"We'll try our best to talk the council down, then," she said, taking up her mug. The drink wasn't hot anymore, but there was still a little warmth there. "However, if worst comes to worst, we won't hesitate to defend ourselves. That sound fair?"

"Sure does!" Kiara beamed.

Irys looked dull by comparison, her crystalline horns losing some of their luster. "Yes," she said softly.

And with that, they had a plan . . . or, at least, a general idea of how to approach the situation. That was about the best they could do at the moment. There was still so much they didn't know. And, of course, there was the elephant in the room.

"We need to find the others before we can really get started," Calli said, taking a sip from her mug. "We can't say for sure that they've been attacked, but we won't know for sure until we can talk to them. Any ideas where they might be?" The question was aimed at Kiara, but Irys raised her hand.

"I can help," she said, gathering herself. "It isn't an exact sort of thing, but I should be able to detect the presence of someone I've interacted with on a spiritual level."

"And you've done this with our friends?"

Irys nodded, "And you two as well. There's just one problem." She hesitated and took a deep breath. The momentary silence was suffocating. "Aside from the two of you, I can only sense one other presence."

Just one? What did that mean?! Calli didn't need to look at Kiara to know that she was inches away from panicking. They both were.

Their fears were confirmed. That was the only explanation.

But losing their heads wasn't going to do anyone any good.

Calli forced the worst case scenario out of her mind. She cut the tension arresting her breathing by force of will. She had to move forward. She had to salvage what she could.

She stood up as calmly as she could. Irys and Kiara did the same. "Can you guide us to whoever it is?"

"Of course," Irys said.

They rushed out of the building and into the darkening city. A black cloud drifted overhead, hastening the coming of night.

+ Break +

A dark spot appeared on the ground. Then another, and another.

There were times when a storm would break all at once, unleashing a downpour like flipping a switch. Gura preferred it like this, though. Gradual. The scent of wet pavement filling the air before the rain could disperse it.

She breathed deeply as she stepped out from under a street lamp and into near total darkness. It took her a while to reach this part of the city. It wasn't totally run down, but there were no bright neon signs on the buildings and the lamps were spread pretty far apart. The chill of the sporadic raindrops on her face, the scent of a city about to be soaked through, and the darkness periodically broken by pockets of light reminded her of the ocean. Comfortable. And not.

The clouds overhead grew darker, transforming the sky from the blue-black of night to pure, lightless dark. Then the rain began to fall in force. The downpour obscured the little pockets of light created by the street lamps and the sound of water splashing against the ground drowned out all other sounds. The whole world was submerged.

Just as well.

Gura's head hadn't been on straight lately. It was like a dam had failed somewhere in her mind and all the unpleasantness she'd safely locked away was gushing into her brain freely. She tried to remember exactly how she felt before hiding within the order. Was it like this? Was she driven to join them because she couldn't dismiss the memories and doubts?

No. Unclear as her memories of that time were, she had an inkling of what drove her to sequester herself.

It was that voice. The imaginary "friend" that had whispered whatever she wanted to hear–and much that she didn't–into her ear. Just like with the ocean, she was torn. She hated that stupid little voice in her head. It tormented her, dredging up all the unsavory things she ever did. If she were asked, Gura would say that her strength was her most admirable quality. If nothing else, it would always come through. But the weight of the memories the voice foisted onto her was too much for even her great power to bear.

At the same time, having a companion to confide in helped her sleep most nights. The voice gave her someone to blame, someone to deflect all of her guilt onto. It used to tell her that she was right to run away. Why should she have to deal with the grief? She hadn't known what she was doing. She was only a child.

Nothing but empty words, but without those distractions, she wouldn't have lasted as long as she did.

It became unbearable, eventually. That was why she hid away. She knew that like she knew her own name, but the details still eluded her. Not like it mattered anymore. The order was gone, and so was her hiding place.

The voice could find her again. It probably already had, considering the darkness of her thoughts and the inescapable flood of memories.

Gura dragged her feet as she walked. She didn't bother avoiding the puddles. No point when everything was already wet. Her shoes were soaked through, and she hadn't bothered to pull up her hood either. She wanted to get out of the rain and dry off, but she also liked the weight of her hoodie squeezing her chest and shoulders. Neither feeling was strong enough to beat out the other, so she just kept walking.

The gaps between street lamps grew smaller and smaller as she circled back towards the center of the city. A few of the shops she passed had little glowing signs in their windows. The lights bloomed in the moist air, little beacons guiding her along her aimless path.

She looked up and let the rain pelt her open eyes as she stared deep into the abyss of the storm. A flash within the darkness revealed the tumbling, mountainous shapes of the clouds. If she were struck down by lightning right then and there, would anyone be sad?

She shook her head hard, her soggy hair stinging her face. It was a stupid question. Her friends would be sad. Of course they would! But she couldn't be happy about that. They'd only be sad because they didn't know what she did.

Maybe she should tell them.

For some reason, the idea made her feel better. Her chest still felt tight, and it was terrifying, but not terrible. She couldn't be happy being treated better than she deserved. She'd rather be hated outright if it came down to it. She could at least take solace in the fact that she was honest.

She stopped in front of a clothing store. There were mannequins set up in the window lounging in various designs against a bright red backdrop. One in particular caught her eye. The model was dressed in a thick, soft-looking coat, posed as if it were walking with its hands in its pockets.

It looked warm. Comfy, too. And pretty dang expensive. She reached into her pockets and pulled out a few soggy dollars. She probably wouldn't be able to afford a coat that heavy and nice even if she saved up the allowance Kiara gave her for a few months.

If she asked for the money outright, Kiara would be happy to help, Gura thought. But then, Calli would probably step in. As the only one with any sort of savings, she couldn't just throw her money around willy-nilly. Ina would agree and try to convince Gura that she didn't really need a new coat. And then Gura would wonder if Amelia could make her some kind of fancy future jacket.

Gura giggled. Moments ago she'd been worried that her friends would hate her if they knew about her past, but that was just silly. They were her friends. They cared about her, she was sure. Absolutely.

She stuffed the soaking money back into her pocket and caught her reflection in the window. She looked like a sopping mess! Hair plastered to her face and neck, hoodie saturated, and skin slick. It wasn't strange for a shark to be wet, if anything being dry was bizarre, but it would be nice to get out of the rain for a bit.

The store would definitely kick her right back out if she stomped in and drenched their floor. If she wanted relief from the downpour, she'd have to search out a bus stop or something. Her hood was just as soaked through as the rest of her, but she pulled it over her head anyway. It made her feel better somehow. The moment she took a step to find shelter a sharp knot pulled taut in her skull.

No.

She cried out, her head pulsing. She shut her eyes against the pain and grit her teeth, but it did little to alleviate the thrumming ache. She lost her balance and nearly dropped to the ground, but her shoulder thumped against the shop's window.

Deep, gasping breaths kept her from retching as she propped herself up on the window. Her fingers squeaked against the glass. What was happening? She wasn't sick, was she? If she was, she'd probably look it, especially with how awful she felt all of a sudden.

She opened her eyes, slowly, expecting to see bags under her eyes and green under her gills. The reflection she saw was definitely her, but it was upside down and glaring back at her.

Gura heard the crash of shattering glass before she realized her arm had moved. The window was blown out and the mannequins on display were in pieces. The brightly colored wall behind them had a crack running from floor to ceiling. There was an alarm going off, but it might as well have been miles away. The wrong reflection was gone, but something wasn't right.

Her heart beat a panicked rhythm, and despite her rapid breaths her lungs cried out for air. She slowly lowered her fist. Then, a flash of red.

The color drained from the cracked backdrop and spilled out onto the display. Broken bodies, a pool of blood, a sinister glee.

Gura stumbled back, pressing her palms into her eyes. She didn't want to see. It wasn't her fault! She didn't want to!

But you did.

"No!"

You did.

Gura felt something inside her recede, forced out by something cold and impossibly heavy. It was strange, like her sense of self was being dampened. Everything was so far away. The blaring of the alarm. The chill of the rain pelting her face. Even the fear and pain.

She knew she should have been panicking, but her heart settled. Breaths came slow and easy. Her wet, heavy clothes didn't even bother her. She felt . . . not nice, but numb. So much so that she lost track of how long she'd been staring up at the sky.

It was wrong.

"Gura?!" The voice was as distant as every other sensation, but she focused on it, used it to pull herself back down out of the storm. She turned her head just in time to see Kiara crash into her. "Are you alright?!" Kiara clutched Gura's shoulders with skin-splitting force and checked her up and down.

Looking past her, Gura noticed that Calli was there too. And so was someone she didn't know. Something deep within Gura told her to stay away from the strange woman. She looked back up at Kiara and met her raw gaze.

"You're . . . okay?" Kiara whispered, searching Gura's face for any signs of trouble. When she found nothing, she pulled Gura into a tight embrace. "Thank you for being okay!" Her shoulders jerked and her sharp, clipped gasps were loud in Gura's ear.

Warmth–different from the sun or a hot cup of cocoa–permeated Gura's body. The chill of the rain evaporated, and the numbness was soothed.

Some of it.

Kiara's warmth couldn't quite cross the distance that had been wedged between Gura's heart and the world around her.

She should have been happy to see her friends. Logically, it made sense. But she didn't. The worry on their faces wasn't a relief. Something was wrong. She knew it, but her mind slowed when she tried to reason it out. She was being suppressed.

Gura reached up and wrapped her arms around Kiara and squeezed just as tight. The phoenix comforted her, but it did nothing. The only thing to cross the divide within her was the fear tightening her grip.

She was being dragged deep down into herself. Into her past and the pain lurking there. Something was stopping her from feeling. Something was keeping her from processing the things she was supposed to be feeling. And she had a pretty good idea what it was.

If only she could do something about it!

Kiara released her and Calli gripped her shoulder firmly. They were both there. She couldn't let them know how little that mattered at the moment. Gura put on a brave face, but by the way they looked at her, she didn't do a very good job. It would have to do.

Together, they started towards the city proper, back towards the apartment. Calli took the lead, and Kiara trailed a short distance behind, leaving Gura and the mystery woman in the middle. The urge to get away from her was intense.

Trying to make space between them did little good. She drifted closer and closer, and with no real reason to run off, a confrontation was inevitable.

"Hello," the woman said, sheepishly. Her voice was quiet, and rather nice. Annoying. "My name is Irys. I've come to help you and your friends."

"That so?" It was hard to keep the disgust out of her voice. That foreign aversion clouded her thoughts. It was making it hard to distinguish her actual feelings, distant as they were.

"Well, yes," Irys flinched. Maybe she could sense Gura's discomfort. Or maybe she was just timid. Either way, she rattled off a whole bunch of nonsense about hope and fundamental forces.

No, not nonsense. This was important. Gura pushed back against that treacherous little voice.

"The council, my friends, are targeting you and yours. They've already come after Kiara and Calli, and I'm afraid they've likely gotten to your other friends as well. Have you encountered anything strange? Have you been attacked?"

"Do I look like I've been attacked?" Gura snapped. She didn't mean to. "What can you even do?" Why did she say that?

Irys's face froze for a good few seconds. Did she not have anything in mind? Why even come to help then? "That's . . ." Her expression was stark, but then it hardened. She spoke with conviction. "I can't do much, but the important thing is that I'm here for you. I'll do whatever I can."

The hell was that supposed to mean?! Did she fancy herself some kind of saint?! Screw that and screw her! Gura ground her teeth and fought to suppress a growl building in her throat. This frustration, this anger, wasn't hers.

Kiara raced up from behind and rested her hand on Gura's shoulder. "I think we can trust Irys. You wouldn't recognize her, but think back. She's been with us for a while." She was trying to diffuse the tension between them. But it didn't work.

The voice in Gura's head wouldn't let it.

"Yeah, I remember," Something said with Gura's voice. "I remember how she was hanging around the order." The whole group stopped, but her mouth kept running. "I remember how she helped. Hope and despair, right? When the order was performing their ritual, when I was mindlessly attacking my friends, where were you, Irys?"

"Gura, that's–" Kiara tried to interrupt.

"Let her answer!"

Irys took a step back. They were all looking at her weird. Gura couldn't tell what kind of expression she was making, but it must have been pretty intense. She didn't back down though. She couldn't. She wasn't fully in control.

"I was there, but I couldn't–" Irys tried to make some lame excuse, but she stopped and confusion and recognition rippled across her face. "You've definitely been attacked. I can feel it," she said.

The voice in Gura's head slipped and she realized that it had been suppressing more than just her emotions. A tidal wave of rage crashed through her psyche, and she nearly doubled over from the sheer ferocity of the feeling. Whoever Irys was, Gura's old friend really didn't like her. That foreign emotion attacked her perception, twisting Kiara and Calli's faces. Their skin pulled tight over their muscles and their teeth grew large and threatening.

Irys got it the worst. She transformed into a glistening beast, her limbs growing long and her features constricting into sharp edges and angles. A dark light shimmered within her new crystalline form that caused the voice in Gura's head to thrash. It bombarded her mind with frustration, anger, and disgust, as well as . . . fear? Betrayal?

Its voice cut through the torrent of emotion. Get away, it whimpered.

Irys raised her hand cautiously. "Please," she started, her voice a cacophonous ring, "I can help you if you let me in."

Gura smothered the urge to knock her hand away, and backed off instead. "I don't want anything to do with you," she said, interpreting the wishes of the voice inside. She didn't like the idea of doing what it wanted, but its raging emotions were so intense that they hurt.

She turned, attempting to storm off, but Calli called out to her. "Wait, Gura." Her voice was stern. Scolding, like a parent's. Gura stopped, but she wasn't interested in hearing what the reaper had to say.

She looked over her shoulder and saw red. She knew exactly what that meant, and she wanted no part of it. She stomped her foot, crushing the concrete and shaking the earth. Then, she resumed her march, leaving them behind.

With so much happening inside her mind, she couldn't trust herself to remain calm. Even her words were a threat. It was in everyone's best interests for her to lay low while the voice in her head calmed down.

Gura made her way back to the apartment on her own, but steered clear. She didn't want to run into the others just yet, so she holed up in Amelia's workshop instead. It was a wide open space filled with all manner of clutter. Just the sort of place she needed to clear her head.

. . .

Or not.

She found a rag to dry her hair with and did her best to soak up the water weighing down her clothes. All the while, her mind worked.

Amelia wasn't back yet. Maybe she'd never show her face around here again. Time travel brought her back to the perfect time to change the future, so it had to be convenient enough for her to return right away. The fact that she hadn't just meant that all those dark, lonely fears Gura tried to ignore were right.

Maybe she should leave too.

All things considered, she'd been in Holiv a long time. Even with the near century she spent secluded in the order's compound, her roots had dug deeper than she thought they could. It was nice. Things were going well. Phenomenal, even! All the more reason to get away.

She ruined things. That was the kind of person she was. It was unavoidable. Cracks were already starting to show, so getting out of dodge before they got worse seemed like a smart play.

She didn't want to ruin what she'd found here. Heck, if Amelia could do it, why not Gura?

The voice in her head settled, and the apprehension she expected to feel was as distant as the rest of her emotions. Oddly enough, though, the more she considered leaving, the more comfortable she felt.

Life on the lamb called out to her. Sedentary life was never her thing. She was a shark of the road, tied down by nothing and nobody. No connections. No responsibilities. No expectations. How could she have forgotten such an unassailable aspect of her entire being? It was silly, really, thinking she had friends. Thinking she had a place to call home.

It almost made her bust out laughing, and all the while, deep down in the suppressed recesses of her psyche, she raged.

That life, drifting endlessly, was hell. Each day was a tortuous reminder of who she was and what she'd done. Oblivion was the only relief. She knew that, and she could hear herself reject the calm. It wasn't right!

But she couldn't be bothered. The easy path was open and life's current swept her towards it. She just had to–

Gura's shoulders jumped as something appeared in the corner of her eye. A previously empty space in the workshop was suddenly filled. There was no noise or change in the air. It was just suddenly there. The time machine, sitting right where it had before it disappeared.

She turned slowly. If she moved too urgently, the mirage might fade away. She looked it over; it didn't glisten like a trick of the light, nor did it appear flat or translucent. It was the genuine article. It was really there.

Amelia was back.

A small shard of feeling shot over the void in Gura's mind. Her heart swelled and her skin tingled. "Amelia?" she called out, standing. She kept her voice soft and low as she took slow, careful steps towards the machine. "You there, Watson?"

She crept closer. Time travel didn't produce any dangerous radiation, did it? In hindsight, she really should have asked after the specifics.

A groan came from the front of the machine, so Gura leapt the rest of the way. Sure enough, Amelia was there. She looked like shit, but she was there!

Why did she look like shit?!

"Whoa there, Watson!" Gura lifted her friend out of the machine and carefully propped her up on her feet. She could stand, fortunately, but she was wobbly. Her eyes were open, but unfocused. Gura led her to a stool and sat her down, then pulled one up for herself. "What happened to you?"

Amelia didn't respond. She didn't even seem to recognize where she was. Gura took her hand, and finally her eyes focused. She looked around, breathing slow and deep.

Gura smiled. It didn't last long.

"I messed up," Amelia finally said. Her voice was scratchy and raw. "I was . . . trapped. Outside of time, I think. That isn't exactly how she described it, but . . ." She trailed off. Her eyes lost focus for a moment before snapping back to attention. "It was all white. Empty. She took me there so I would know."

"Who?" Gura had a sinking feeling. She recalled Irys's words. The ones she'd dismissed so callously.

"The warden of time . . . that's what she called herself. She said I was going to be punished."

Gura swallowed, "For what?" Amelia looked at her. There were red rings around her eyes, as raw as her voice. That sinking feeling turned into a plummeting feeling.

"We did it," Amelia started. "We changed the future. The monsters are gone. The priestess is gone." Her lip quivered. "And so is everything else. The city, the people, everything. We . . . I erased all of it."

Gura felt a chill that went deep enough to reach her dampened emotions. The shiver shattered the numbness that had taken hold after Amelia left. She should have given her friend a hug. She should have told her it would be alright. She could teach her how to run away. How to ease the pain. How to forget.

They weren't just friends anymore. They were kindred spirits. Fellow destroyers. Tears stung the edges of Gura's eyes. They could sympathize with each other, share their burdens, and alleviate the crushing weight of their mistakes.

". . . she is?" Amelia muttered. She balled up her fists and stared at the table. Her lips moved, but sound only occasionally came out of her mouth. "So what if . . . no right to . . . believe it, I . . ."

Gura leaned in, ready to comfort the tragic time traveler. "It's okay, Watson. I know–"

"The hell does she think she is?!" Amelia slammed the table so hard a pile of junk stacked on the end collapsed and spilled out onto the floor. Gura found herself in a similar position, having jumped straight out of her seat. "How dare she call me a monster! If time is your responsibility, then where were you when I came back in the first place?! Where's your excuse?!"

Gura gaped as she picked herself up off the floor. This was not the reaction she was expecting. It was a far cry from what she herself experienced. It was kind of mesmerizing.

"What I did was right! That future was hopeless. The people suffered every single day and there was no hope for a better tomorrow. Trying to change things for the better was the right thing to do!" Tears streamed down Amelia's cheeks, but she didn't stop gnashing her teeth and shaking her fist at the ceiling. "I won't disappear. I won't let her take me. I have a duty to keep going. I owe it to them . . ."

"Watson . . ." Gura started to reach out, but stopped herself. There was a sparkle in Amelia's eyes, a razor-sharp focus. She got up and walked right past Gura, sniffling all the way. She started digging through a pile of junk, mumbling about time.

It was incredible. Such intense willpower. Such a passionate rejection. Not of the consequences or responsibilities, Gura realized, but of the notion that she should just roll over and be crushed by that horrible weight. She was thrown into the pit of despair, but instead of closing her eyes and falling, she dug her nails into the walls and stopped her descent. And she was climbing back up!

Gura wondered if she could do that too. Her strength was her most admirable quality after all, but could it be used to pull herself out of her own pit? She tried to imagine herself raging against the pain and guilt. She tried to picture a version of herself unburdened by millennia of regret.

But she couldn't. Deep down, she knew that following Amelia's example meant accepting the monster that destroyed her people. She would have to take all of the responsibility, but the weight would be too much to bear, surely. She'd always thought so. She'd always been told–

She ran from the workshop. She wanted–no–needed to be alone. All of her friends were too kindhearted. Too optimistic. Too hopeful. They were a different breed from Gura, one that she couldn't bear to stomach.

She climbed the apartment fire escape to her room and retrieved her trident. Then, she made for the roof. She'd thought to practice her forms to clear her head, but the more she swung the weapon, the heavier it felt.

At some point, Gura stopped and sat on the still soaked roof, the light of the city pouring up from over the edge of the building.

She turned the trident over in her hands and just thought.

+ Break +

The human mind was not meant to perceive the full scale of the universe, Ina decided.

The hallway through which she followed Sana was vague. There was definitely a floor, a solid surface that they could walk on, and the walls were probably there too. Every so often Ina caught a glimpse of them; silvery reflections floating in seemingly empty space. Beyond those walls was darkness, and beyond the darkness was something that threw her for a loop.

Stars. Comets. Galaxies! The cosmos was laid bare all around them. The incomprehensible filaments of existence crisscrossed through vast empty pockets of nothing. It was humbling. The power she'd been wielding was no more than the thinnest sliver of Sana's dominion.

It was a drop in the ocean, and yet it could have easily stripped away Ina's physical existence. No mere human could contain even the smallest bit of the universe.

She watched Sana's back and wondered. Was she really the same person? She couldn't possibly be human anymore with all this power coursing through her. The way she bounced on the balls of her feet, the way she hummed happily, that genuine smile . . . All of it could have been a facsimile of the real thing. But did that matter?

The vague hallway came to an end as they reached, of all things, a door floating in the empty void of space. Sana turned and clasped her hands together, "Bear with me a while, okay? There's a little business that needs taken care of and then we can catch up properly," she said.

Ina followed her through the door and couldn't hold back a gasp. They were in a room–it was definitely a room, the walls were much more clearly there–but it wasn't the same as the cosmic hallway. The familiar void was present, but it was only part of the space. It was vast, yet confined. It looked weathered and used while also appearing freshly built. Parts of it looked grown in while others looked installed. All of these elements shifted and morphed, becoming completely different while somehow remaining exactly the same.

It was constructed with materials that she couldn't quite comprehend. A room made of concepts with no solid visual identity. Ina's brain ran hot trying to make sense of the complexity.

"Wait here a moment," Sana said before making her way to the center of the room. There was a large table there, Ina realized. Its shape came into focus as Sana approached. She took one of the seven seats, her back to the door. "Sorry for the wait, everyone."

"It hasn't been too long. And we haven't started just yet," a woman sitting across the table said. There was something uncanny about her statuesque features.

Ina could see two others, one gave her the impression of a spring breeze, the other had a look that she could only describe as industrious. With those colors, they were definitely ancient ones, just like Sana.

There was another, sat beside Sana, that Ina couldn't see. She knew they were there, though. Their color leached into the air around their chair. A deep, vibrant red that gave Ina pause.

Two other chairs sat empty. One of them looked like the others, but the second was larger, more ornate. It almost looked like a throne. It imposed a crumbling pressure that Ina thought she could see on the rest of the table. Was it anticipating the arrival of its occupant?

"We were just discussing our mission," the industrious looking ancient one said. Her eyes flicked towards the breezy one. The air literally thickened.

Sana leaned in, "Oh, that's no fun. It's been so long since we were all awake at the same time, so we should talk about something more casual!"

"For example?"

"For example . . . How have things changed?" Sana casually twirled a lock of hair around a finger. She looked so comfortable chatting with them. "C'mon, Mumei, don't tell me you aren't a little excited to see how far civilization has come."

The industrious one, Mumei, smirked. "I guess it has changed quite a bit. Glittering cities and complex infrastructure, it's grown so far in so little time. I wish I could have been there to see it all happen with my own eyes." She smiled. It was such a human expression.

Sana smiled along with her. "What about you, Fauna? Any interesting developments in the natural world?"

The one like a spring breeze scowled. "If by interesting you mean tragic, then yes," she spat. That would make her Fauna, then. "Civilization has spread so far and thick that countless ecosystems are at risk. It's disgusting!" The air above the table was almost entirely solid with the tension floating around, but Sana was unfazed.

"Oh, it can't be all that bad. After all, more civilization means more people, right? The population has never been larger! I can't imagine you aren't at least a little excited to see so much complex life flourishing."

Fauna blushed. "Well, that's . . . a nice way to look at it, I guess." The air loosened just like that.

It was hard to process how human these higher beings acted. They had emotions and complex relationships between them as far as Ina could tell. The order had propped these figures up to be gods, well above the simple concerns of mortals, but they were wrong. So, so wrong. Was that a good thing or not?

Sana moved on to the statuesque ancient one, "How about you, Kroninii? Anything fun or exciting time-wise?"

"You know there isn't," Kroninii said. Her tone was harsh, but the corners of her mouth ticked up just a little. It was a sad expression. The mood at the table dipped in response. The others did know, apparently. "It isn't entirely a good thing that we've all been woken up."

Ina scanned the table and felt the emotions being aired. Everyone but the one she couldn't see bore a weight, Sana included. It was so strange, being able to see how their hues shifted without being neck deep in the tome's power. Then again, Sana was the source of that power, and the others here were the same as her, so maybe it wasn't weird at all.

This was their domain. That was just how things were on higher planes of existence.

Ina froze as she felt someone staring at her. Through her. Fauna glared at her from across the room and suddenly she was standing not in a perplexing conceptual chamber, but in a thick forest. Through the trees, she saw a darkness that appeared to be the same as the void she knew at first, but the longer she looked, the more unique the abyss felt. It wasn't cold and empty like Sana's power. It was hot, writhing, and most unsettling of all, hungry. Ina shrank back, suddenly feeling like a mouse surrounded by predators.

"You brought one of them here?" Fauna said. Her voice was so soft, but hearing it felt like teeth closing around Ina's throat.

Sana nodded. "I did," she said and the air once again became thick. This time with hostility. It wasn't aimed at Sana, though. It was aimed at Ina.

She couldn't breathe. They wanted her gone and the sheer pressure of that want threatened to snuff her out then and there.

"Hey now!" Sana waved them down, but their hostility remained. It was suffocating.

Ina felt at the wall behind her, searching for the doorknob. She couldn't stay in this room any longer. But where was the knob?! She was sure she was standing right next to the door. Was she mistaken? Did it move? It didn't disappear, did it? There was no telling what was possible in this place.

"Cut the poor girl some slack," The ancient one that Ina couldn't see spoke up, laughing. The other's turned their attention to her, taking the heat off of Ina, but the way she spoke did little to ease the tension. "No need to get so upset just cause you guys messed up. Ain't that right, Sana?"

The trio that had been glaring at Ina redirected their ire towards the unseen ancient one, but something was clearly different. The hostility they showed her was much colder. Bitter, even. Sana talked to these people like they were friends, but maybe that was wrong. Even she looked at the hidden one coldly. To make matters more complicated, the look on her face was less disgust and more pity.

Kroninii opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped. Her expression flattened, all traces of derision vanishing in an instant. The others underwent the same sudden transformation. It was like they were in a trance. As one, they looked towards the empty throne at the end of the table. The air softened, crumbling like wet sand. Anticipation.

A line appeared in the space at the end of the table. Reality itself split open and a figure stepped through the fissure. Ina was suddenly thrust out of herself. She regarded the familiar cosmic void racing away from her as others came into view. The hungry void, lush and mysterious. A void cluttered with lattices of ever expanding structures. A void that somehow curved inward so that she could see it through itself. A void so anomalous that it seemed different with every passing instant. And a void that pulled on her emotions, bringing her high, then low, then high again endlessly.

Her existence was flying further and further away from them as they flew away from each other. And yet, they all stayed in view. It was like she wasn't moving at all. So many sensations and experiences and states that she couldn't properly put into words shot through her like radiation. Every color of the human spectrum and beyond raced along every fiber of her being until her awareness was spread so far, it finally came into view. There was another void. A void that encompassed the others. Dwarfed them. Swallowed them.

As if viewing her mind from afar, Ina realized that if she could properly observe that void beyond voids–if she could comprehend the scale, the depth of it–her mind would break. It would burn her away until nothing remained. Only her limited capacity as a human being kept her intact. Her ignorance kept her sane.

In an instant she was standing in the chamber once more, as still as the ancient ones seated at the table, save for her cold, clammy hands shaking as she beheld the vast being that had emerged.

Their robes were the purest white Ina had ever seen. If she shifted her focus even a little, their clothes, skin, and hair would explode into a prismatic kaleidoscope. The ancient ones looked like people, but were clearly much more. This . . . entity was several steps beyond. Their figure was human-like, but barely. Nothing so immense could possibly have a strictly human form.

"It is pleasant to see you, my council." They spoke! Maybe. Their mouth didn't move, but Ina was sure the voice she heard–or rather felt–didn't belong to any of the ancient ones sitting at the table. "The malefactors responsible for awakening hope are giving you trouble?"

Kroninii stood and bowed her head. "I have made contact with the time traveler, Administrator. I assure you she will be dealt with once she has had time to bear the weight of her sin."

The administrator regarded her quietly for a moment before turning their attention to Fauna and Mumei.

As a pair, they stood up and started talking over each other.

Fauna lifted a hand to her chest, "I engaged the undying soul, but she managed to overcome Mumei's–"

"I had death's avatar on the ropes, Administrator, but Fauna failed to–" Mumei rested her palms on the table.

"The guardian of civilization didn't take her responsibilities seriously, so–"

"Undying soul or not, she shouldn't have been a problem for–"

Both of their mouths snapped shut in the same instant. The administrator's face didn't move at all, but maybe there was a nuance to their expressions that Ina wasn't getting. Either way, Mumei and Fauna lowered their eyes and quickly took their seats, sweat beading on their faces.

The ancient one sitting beside Sana cackled, "Quite the mess you guys made for yourselves!" She laughed, earning some intense glares from the opposite side of the table.

"Baelz," the administrator said, turning slowly to face the hidden ancient one. "Should I take that to mean you've been successful?"

"You bet! I've got the shark wrapped around my little finger like always. I might as well kick back and let things play out!" She laughed.

The administrator didn't avert their gaze. "Interesting. You wouldn't mind explaining why you allowed hope to go free when she stood well within your grasp, then?"

The aura emanating from the chair jerked. "That was . . . psychological warfare. Yeah! I was just getting into her head!" Baelz laughed again, but it was clearly forced.

"Is this a game to you, Baelz? Need I remind you that the fate of the universe is at stake?" Again, the administrator's expression was static, but their tone was icy. They hadn't so much as glanced in Ina's direction, but she shivered nonetheless. "And what of your charge? Surely you aren't dragging your feet on purpose."

"No! I'm just . . ." Baelz stammered, struggling under the pressure of the administrator's scrutiny, but the rest of the ancient ones looked indifferent. They were comrades, if not friends. Shouldn't they be concerned? Even Sana purposefully avoided looking in her direction. "I don't think we need to eliminate her. If I keep her, she can't cause any more trouble. All that matters is that she can't interfere with the flow of the universe, right? C'mon, Sana, back me up here!"

Sana shrank in her seat. She still refused to look at Baelz. She wouldn't even acknowledge her.

The administrator stared at Baelz for what felt like an eternity before she finally moved on. Her gaze swept over Ina on its way to Sana, sending a spike of pure terror through her soul. "Care to explain, Sana? You wish to avoid erasing your charge as well, do you not?"

Like a switch, Sana's expression flipped. She beamed and practically bounced out of her chair. "I sure do!" She rushed across the room, grabbed Ina by the shoulders, and led her to the table. "This is Ina! She's an old friend. And although she's a target for erasure, I think we can get by keeping her here instead!"

The glowing review did nothing to ease the hostility stabbing at her from across the table. If the administrator wasn't there, the ancient ones probably would have crushed her with the sheer intensity of their displeasure. She couldn't quite count herself lucky, though.

The administrator stared through her, and Ina could do nothing to resist. It wasn't as existence-destroying as she thought it would be, but she found herself falling into the infinite abyss held within their eyes. Unlike the other ancient ones, she wasn't being suffocated. She simply forgot that breathing was a thing that people did.

"Hmm," the administrator tilted their head. It was jarring seeing them move anything but their eyes. "I suppose this is acceptable. I will grant you two special permission to handle your charges as you see fit. Do no not disappoint me."

Sana cheered and pulled Ina into a tight hug. Whatever this was all about–Ina still wasn't quite sure she understood the half of it–at least she was happy. And she wasn't the only one.

"Yes!" Baelz cheered quietly. Ina craned her neck to see the so far hidden ancient one, expecting to see her pumping her fist, but the chair was empty. Floating above the seat was a thin red haze. A representation of an absent member? Where was she, then?

"If there is nothing more to report, you are dismissed. Go and make good use of the time I have granted you." The administrator looked over the table one last time before a tear opened behind them. They floated through, disappearing into the blinding void beyond.

The ancient ones across the table stood up quickly and marched towards the boundary of the chamber. As they approached the wall, a door appeared for each of them. Ina watched them leave, replaying the things they said about their "charges" in her head. A time traveler, death's avatar, and an undying soul. It didn't take a genius to figure out they were referring to her friends.

They'd stopped the order from summoning the ancient ones into the world, but here they were anyway. And they wanted to "erase" Ina and the others. What did the administrator mean "they awakened hope?" There was so much to process, but Ina didn't have time to work through it. Her friends were in imminent danger, and by virtue of being where she was, she was in the best position to keep them safe.

She turned to the red haze floating in the chair next to her. Baelz was meant to go after Gura–who else could "the shark" be–but she didn't want to erase her. Could she be a potential ally? Ina gathered up the courage to talk to her, but Sana took her hand in a tight grip.

"C'mon Ina! There's so much I want to tell you! So much I want to show you!" She pulled Ina away from the table and through a door of her own. Before Ina could react, she was once again being led through an ambiguous corridor to who knew where. "Where do I even start? Oh! It might actually be faster for you to go first."

"Hold on a second," Ina stopped and Sana released her grip. "Before we go through our life stories, there's something I need to ask you."

"Alright, let's hear it."

Ina licked her lips. "What was all that in there? The council, the administrator . . . How did you get mixed up in all of this?"

Sana's eyes glazed over and she froze, like the question stunned her. Then she blinked and the light returned to her eyes. "Oh, that? That's easy!" She snapped her fingers and a pair of cushy seats appeared behind them. She snapped again and the ambiguous boundaries of the corridor vanished entirely.

Ina sat, following Sana's lead, and tried not to think about them being adrift in the void of space.

"See, the administrator created the council. We're sort of like supervisors that they delegate the more complex functions of the universe to."

"Wait, so did the administrator . . . create the universe?"

"Nope!" Sana laughed. "Not the way they tell it, anyways. But that's not important for this story." It wasn't?! "Now, you might remember that I was born human, yeah? I'm pretty unique in that regard. The other council members were created from scratch, derived from the forces they were made to govern. Thing about space is it's reaaaaally big! When the administrator tried to create a speaker the first time, they found that nothing they put together from scratch was sturdy enough. Space was sooooo big that it folded in on itself. They needed something that was already established, something with a solid enough existence to funnel all that power into. That's where I come in!

"That ritual, the one the order came up with to choose a priestess, presented the ideal conditions. The two of us were selected because we had a strong affinity with the ancient ones. Apparently, my affinity was stronger, so the administrator plucked me out of the void and plopped me down right at the dawn of the universe," she said with the cheeriest smile on her face as if what she said wasn't horrifying.

Ina shook off the existential dread. She needed answers if she was going to figure out how to protect her friends. "They took you back in time to be this 'speaker?'"

"Yep! Except it's more like I was always the speaker. That timey-wimey business is Kroninii's area of expertise, though, so I can't really explain it well." Sana's eyes glazed over again, but only for a moment. "Where was I . . . Oh yeah! So there I was, floating through the impossible vastness of a newborn universe. I was scared and confused, but then the administrator showed up. They put the power of the cosmos in me and I got big. Like, big big. Like, biiiiiig. Get me?"

Ina shook her head..

"I was the universe, and it was me. I was still me, of course, but I wasn't the same human girl you grew up with. I became more . . . conceptual? Yeah, that works. After that, I met the rest of the council and we became friends."

"Could you be more specific?"

Sana rubbed her chin. "Well, after I became the speaker of space, I got acquainted with the others by virtue of being everywhere. My power reached and interacted with all of them, which meant I did too. The six of us were fast friends, I'd say because we have the same purpose when you get down to it. When we're awake, we can interact and hang out the way the two of us did when we were kids. I don't think there was any specific moment where it clicked. It just kind of happened over billions of years."

"When you're–" Ina's train of thought screeched to a halt. Billions?! "When you're awake? You said something like that before. I take it you don't mean regular sleep."

"You got it. The administrator says that being conscious for too long can be harmful, so they'll suppress our sense of self when we aren't needed to handle particularly heavy loads. That's what makes this occasion so special! It's rare for the whole council to be awake at once."

"Wait, you don't have a choice?!"

"Well, no. That's just how things are," she said, visibly confused. How could she not see the problem with that?

Ina bristled. On a whim, the administrator could take her friend away again. It wasn't fair. Not in the slightest. "How long has it been? Since you last woke up, I mean."

Sana chuckled nervously. "About four thousand years, I think. Not that long in the grand scheme of things!" She leaned forward and gently took Ina's hands in hers. "And besides, it isn't like I'm completely unaware through it all. I am my power. I am the cosmos. I get impressions of the goings on of the universe, like dreams, when I'm asleep."

Ina's heart dropped into her stomach. It was a long time. Too long. Her sense of self might have been suppressed, but that was thousands of years where she couldn't talk to her friends. Thousands of years where she couldn't directly experience the beauty of the world.

She might as well have been trapped in the order's complex. Vague impressions were no better than bad imitations. Not really.

"I told you before that I saw you in my dreams, didn't I?" Sana looked Ina in the eye, but there was something off. She smiled and her voice sounded cheery and nostalgic, but those deep golden eyes were wide. Fearful or desperate, Ina couldn't decide which. "Looking back, I can't say I agree with the order's way of doing things. But they weren't all bad, I think."

Ina stiffened.

"Their goal, ultimately, was to reunite us, even if they didn't know it. If they'd been successful, you would have been connected to my power directly as a vessel. But you found another way! It's like part of me reached out and you grabbed hold of it. Thanks to that, we can be here, like this." Some of the fear receded. This was Sana she was talking to, not some cosmic deity.

Ina shifted her hands so that she could squeeze Sana's. None of this made sense. It was all so much, but the friend that she thought was lost was here. She was alive. She put on a brave face as if her entire life up to now hadn't been subject to some higher power's whims.

"I'm sorry," Ina said. Sana had missed out on so much of her life, all because she was chosen instead of Ina. Her own hardships seemed trivial by comparison. "I want to make it up to you. All of it. I want to show you all of the things we missed growing up. I want you to see the world as I do. And I want you to meet the friends who saved me."

Sana breathed in sharply. Her grip loosened and she shook her head. "Most of that sounds wonderful, Ina, but I'm afraid I won't be able to meet those friends. They've been deemed malicious actors. Their actions damaged the integrity of reality. The administrator has ordered their erasure."

"I got that, but surely we can convince the administrator to change their mind. You managed to do it for me, didn't you?"

"That's not right, I'm afraid. I offered an alternative to erasure and the administrator accepted. You won't be erased because I'll keep you here, in my realm."

Ina dropped Sana's hands and stood up. "I can't accept that. We have to try and save them. I can't just let them be punished while I sit here."

"No, Ina," Sana said, her eyes glazing over once again. "I don't even know them. They may have helped you, and I'm grateful to them for that, but you're the only one that matters."

"Then at least send me back. I'll figure something out." She didn't have any ideas. Going against the order was one thing, but now that she had perspective on the true threat, she wasn't sure she could do anything without Sana's help. Still, she had to try.

Sana stood up and the cushy chairs disappeared. "No," she said, firm, but with a hint of a quiver. "I've waited eons to see you again. I won't let you go. I won't let my best friend be erased."

Something wasn't right. "How can you call me your friend in this situation? You say you don't want me to be erased, but that's exactly what you'll be doing by keeping me here. That's why the administrator was okay with it. You're doing exactly what she wants you to do."

"That isn't true." Sana clenched her fists. Her voice was shaking.

"It is! I might not disappear entirely, but if I'm stuck here, unable to help my friends or see the world that we worked so hard to save, then I might as well not exist!"

Anger flashed across Sana's face. "Do I not exist to you, Ina?! This place is me! I've always been here!" She was shouting, and though she had a wild look in her eyes, they were still glazed over. It wasn't really her. "When I disappeared into the void, did you just forget about me?! You abandoned me, just like that?! Is being with me so bad? Worse than being erased?!" She sobbed. That was betrayal, not anger, coloring her face and driving tears down her cheeks. She was afraid.

Ina's heart nearly broke. Sana had been alive far longer than Ina could imagine, but she wasn't free for most of that time. The administrator decided when she could experience things herself. They decided when she could see and talk to her friends. How lonely that must have been. How impossibly lonely to watch over the universe, privy to all that happens in it, but infinitely distant from all of it at the same time.

Sana's legs trembled as she desperately wiped away tears that wouldn't stop coming. Her life had been so long, so why did she look just like she had back then? Why did the speaker of space look like a frightened child?

A fire ignited in Ina's belly. She saw herself standing there. Not who she currently was, but who she was when she emerged from the empty void. Vulnerable and alone, unable to resist the will of those more powerful than her.

She stepped up to Sana, fighting back her own tears. She reached up and placed a hand on her oldest friend's cheek. Sana leaned into her palm, crying even louder.

"Come with me," she said softly. "I want to show you everything I've learned. We can discover so much more together."

"I can't, Ina," Sana sniffled. "I just can't. The administrator won't let me. We can't deny their will. They're too powerful."

Ina narrowed her eyes. "I don't think that's true." Sana looked down at her through walls of tears. There were cracks in that glaze over her eyes. "There wouldn't be any need for the council to erase malicious actors if the administrator's power was absolute. It's a long shot, but we defied the will of the universe before. We can do it again."

Sana looked down at her, the glaze disappearing bit by bit. "Are you going to leave me in the dark again," she whimpered.

Ina wrapped her arms around Sana's waist and rested her head on her chest. She still couldn't believe that little girl she knew had grown so much. "I never would have left you if I'd had a choice. I have a choice now, and I refuse to leave you behind. I'm going back, and I'm taking you with me."

Sana's voice broke and she leaned into the embrace, wrapping her arms around Ina's shoulders and resting her head on top of Ina's. She shuddered, eons of loneliness flooding out all at once. Despite her best efforts to keep a brave face, Ina's tears began to flow as well. They cried together, releasing all of their pent up sorrows and insecurities.

It was hard to tell how long they stood there like that. The passage of time was the last thing on Ina's mind. Eventually, though, they calmed down enough to talk.

"If we do this," Sana said, wiping her nose, "we'll have to face the rest of the council. They won't be as willing to defy the administrator."

"That makes sense." Ina scratched her chin, searching what little she knew about the council members. "What about Baelz? She made the same deal you did, right? I was thinking we could convince her to join us."

"I . . . doubt that," A different kind of sadness took hold of Sana, but she shook it off. "Bae is probably more loyal to the administrator than the rest of us combined. But even so, I don't think we should fight her or the others."

Ina smirked, "They are your friends. Realistically, it might not work out, but we'll try to bring them over to our side without fighting. I promise." Neither of them wanted the people they cared about to get hurt. It might have been naive, but Ina was determined to make sure everyone made it through this.

Sana nodded. Her smile was pure and her eyes were clear. A line appeared in the space beside them that opened up into the mortal realm. "Shall we?"

Ina took Sana's hand and led her through the portal, landing them on the same balcony they'd left from. It was dark out, the cafe long since closed for the night. The loft was empty, which hopefully meant the former cultists that had collapsed had recovered and gone home. How long had they been gone?

Ina turned to look out on the skyline visible from the balcony and found herself holding her breath. A line of silvery, early morning light peaked out from between the towering glass buildings, highlighting their edges and creating a stunning burst of color.

"Wow . . ." Sana said, breathless. Ina would have thought that an ancient one would find such a sight dull. Clearly, she didn't know a thing about them. "I've seen every cosmic phenomenon, every astronomical body there is to see, but I've never seen them interact on this scale before." She squeezed Ina's hand as they looked out over the horizon.

The administrator wasn't going to take a defection like this lying down. But Ina wasn't deterred. She trusted her friends, and she trusted Sana. They'd figure something out without a doubt.

But first, she had to figure out how to explain all of this to the others.