A/N: Takes place after Burning Shores. Given how little we know about Seyka and the Quen, I've had to make up my own lore. Will undoubtedly become non-canon when Horizon 3 releases.
Chapter One
An AI manages my finances, drives my car, even washes my dishes…Day by day we give up more of ourselves to the machines, and now we want to let an AI control the climate? We're laying the groundwork for our own supplantation.
-roboticist Alexandra Dumais, in response to Anita Sandoval's proposed solution to the climate crisis
It started with a request.
The woven arch leading to Varl's graveyard had sprouted flowers in the time Aloy had been away. This was spring, renewal-season, stones damp with soft rain. Zo knelt on the woven mat, bare fingers weeding through the potted plants numerous enough to be an orchard. An Utaru could grow a garden out of stone, the old saying went. Zo's belly heaved.
"You wanted to talk to me?" Aloy said.
Groaning, Zo pushed herself to her feet. She dusted her hands against her dress. Aloy had always found the other woman an enigma. Kind, yes, loving yes, outcast, in a way (like they all were) – but in moment-to-moment life, Aloy could never tell what Zo was thinking. In that placid stare rested always a kernel of judgement. Somehow, she reminded Aloy of the High Matriarchs of her own tribe. Triumvirate-in-one.
Maybe that's why Aloy never felt wholly comfortable in the other woman's presence.
"It's been a while," Zo said without reproach. Zo had just returned from Plainsong, a diplomatic journey to warn her tribe of the Nemesis threat. Some might scoff at what the Utaru could offer. But wars – and this would be war – were never won by spear alone. Soldiers required food and water, and medicine, and songs in the dark of night as the world burned around them.
And those same Gravesinger's hands that planted flowers and soothed dying minds also sung death from a sharpshot bow.
"I thought you would stay," Aloy said.
"They asked me to. But home is where he is, where you all are. I'll return for the birth."
Aloy knew a bit about home herself. Taking out a crumpled fistful of Freeze Rime flowers, she laid it beneath Varl's headstone. This high up in the mountains, snow never stopped. She thought he might be cold.
"His family deserves to know," Zo said.
Guilt clutched Aloy's heart. Of course she'd considered it, but there had never been time (always off saving the world, eh?). She swore she'd go back after the Zeniths' defeat, but then the threat of Nemesis eclipsed all other threats. And then came Londra…
"He told me about his mother," Zo continued. "War-Chief, right? How she was disappointed in him. He missed his sister, too. He always wanted to bring me to the Sacred Lands to meet his people."
Aloy hesitated. "You know I'm an outcast, right? I don't really…get along with the rest of the Nora."
"Don't they worship you?"
"That's the problem. Well, that part's new."
"Death is sacred, Aloy. It's part of the cycle, no life without death, no flowers without mulch to feed it. A mother deserves to know about the death of her son. She deserves to know she raised the kindest and most courageous man I'd ever met. I know you're busy, Aloy. We all are."
Feeling as if she'd failed a test, Aloy squeezed her eyes shut against the shadow of the mountain. Ash against her skin. Stones scraping her open. The coldness of the campfire at Mother's Heart, surrounded by Nora and never feeling more alone.
"We can leave as soon as you're ready," Aloy said. "It'll be a long journey. Bring warm clothes – "
Zo gestured to her belly. "As much as I'd love to come, I can't. I'm due in a few weeks. Riding on the back of a Charger is no way to raise a child."
"I'll go," Aloy said, "I'll go."
Zo clasped Aloy's hands. Calluses against calluses, dirt beneath their nails. "Thank you."
Rain mixed with snow in fat droplets. In the distance thunder boomed. The weather had become more unpredictable of late. Each night the new star in the sky grew brighter.
Three years, Aloy thought. Three years was a long time to be away.
Out of sight of both of them, her dried Freeze Rime flowers began to bloom.
"Absolutely not," said Sylens.
"I'm not asking for your permission," Aloy snapped. "I'm telling you out of courtesy."
"We face the greatest threat the world has ever faced, and you want to take time off to go visit your old tribe? Do I need to remind you that Nemesis already destroyed one planet? A planet with technology centuries ahead of ours?"
"No, I forgot about Nemesis," Aloy said sarcastically. "This is important, Sylens. This is the difference between you and me. I don't forget people."
(Never mind Zo had to guilt her into doing this.)
"Just tell them over the Focus – oh, wait, I forgot your backwater tribe hates all old tech. The greatest achievement of the Nora was that they didn't just smother you in the crib."
"The Nora helped capture Hades for you," Aloy said, feeling irately defensive. Only she could talk shit about her tribe. "Besides, you said we had years before Nemesis arrived."
"Time, Aloy, is relative. A few years might be enough to pick up a hobby, say, music, or Utaru basket-weaving. A few years isn't nearly enough time to stop an omnicidal extraterrestrial AI! We're already so far behind you can't even grasp the shape of it. At this rate, this will be as much a war as a Slaughterspine against ants."
Aloy resisted the urge to plant her spear into his neck. The problem with Sylens was that he always looked at the big picture. He trusted nobody else, held faith in nobody else. He pursued his goals single-mindedly – alone, preferably, using others as necessitated – vanishing as soon as the task was done.
Infuriatingly, he reminded her of how she used to be.
"I'm leaving tomorrow," Aloy said. "I'll be dropping by Meridian, speaking with Avad. Getting the Carja onboard will be a big help."
"If you're dead set on this useless trip, you might as well as get something out of it." Sylens' Focus flickered, holos springing to life: among derelict ruins, an immense tower pointing skyward like a final sacrilege. "Maker's End. Former headquarters of Faro Automated Solutions. FAS topped Londra's plans to fight Nemesis. There might be something there we can still use. I know you've been there before. Maybe look…harder, this time."
Aloy wondered what how it would feel to rip out Banuk skin-wires. She wondered, idly, why Sylens still kept those.
"By the way, I'll be making a stop at Landfall first," Aloy said, "just to wasteas much time as possible."
As she left the fabrication lab, Sylen's frustrated shout – the other side of the world? Aloy, have you no sense of urgency? – rang like music behind her.
The last time Aloy visited Legacy's Landfall, the settlement had been a sprawl of crashed ships and campsites, tents ballooning out of the collapsed ruins of the Isle of Spires. The place could optimistically be described as temporary. Missing half the fleet, provisions sunk during the storm, Landfall always seemed one more strong wind away from being washed away entirely.
Now, the fleet reunited, Landfall looked at last how Seyka described her home Quen cities: fleets anchored in the harbor, ships nestled so close their rigging caught on each other. A city-upon-the-sea. The beach swarmed with Quen, sailing Quen, cooking Quen, smithing Quen, Quen dotting each other's faces in the fluorescent green dye that glowed in the dark. Residences had sprung up, huts reinforced with sandbrick and driftwood, shielded from the elements by roofs cut from sailcloth.
Aloy circled low on her Sunwing, drawing shouts of alarm from those who didn't know her.
The most surprising part of the new city: walls facing shoreside, separating Landfall from the overgrown jungle of San Francisco. The Quen had logged the surrounding forests for lumber. Soldiers dragged sleds of wood and stone through the sand, hoisting it onto cranes, where more Quen layered it to extend the wall.
You didn't build a wall for something temporary.
"Aloy! To what do we owe the pleasure?"
She could only describe it as a court: Admiral Gerrit, seated on a high chair; Bohai next to him; Compliance officer Rheng, to Aloy's surprise and displeasure, standing in their shadow. But her eyes were drawn to the black-haired woman at Gerrit's side, shuffling through a sheaf of papers, glancing up as Aloy entered.
Dark eyes stared into ocean green – and smiled.
"You've certainly done a lot with the place," Aloy said, feeling as if she were back in Meridian, in the Sun-King's court. The Quen, too, were an Empire. "All this for a departure?"
"Plans have changed," Bohai said. "We're still making preparations for a return journey, but with all that's happened in the last few months, including, what I'm hearing, a Metal Devil reanimated, we've decided to establish a permanent presence."
"In any case, preparations for a return journey will take the better part of the year – time we may not have, if these stories about Nemesis are to be believed," said Admiral Gerrit. His voice tumbled like gravel. "Please, Aloy, you've done so much for us. What can we help you with?"
A journey, Aloy explained, to the Savage East, where she hoped to garner the support of the Carja Sundom in their war against Nemesis, and, further beyond, to hunt for old world tech in the original facilities that built the machines of the time of ashes. When she mentioned Faro Automated Solutions, the court audibly straightened.
"Of course," Bohai murmured, mostly to himself. "The Ancestor Ted Faro was born here. We'd known he built his Company somewhere on these shores…If we could discover it, think of what we could learn!"
"The Renewer," Admiral Gerrit said. "This seems like prophecy. We'd be glad to send an expeditionary force with you, Aloy."
Aloy cleared her throat. "A full group would only slow me down. Plus, my Sunwing can't carry more than two people. I'm actually just here to ask for Seyka."
Bohai and Gerrit glanced at the Quen marine. Seyka stared straight ahead, lips pressed into a firm line. She still wore her Focus, sea-shell pattern curling around her brow like a crown.
Behind them, Rheng fingered the hilt of his chainsaw blade. He looked at Aloy the way Aloy looked at Sylens.
"Truthfully, a Diviner would be a better companion," Bohai said. "Someone more educated in the Legacy – "
" – would be ill-suited for such a treacherous journey," Gerrit said. "A marine, on the other hand…and fortunate, still, a marine with a Focus. She might be the only one of her kind even on the mainland…This, too, is prophecy! You may have her, Aloy, though I'll certainly miss her."
"It would be my honor to travel with the Living Ancestor," Seyka said.
"Very well!" Gerrit clapped his hands. "Aloy, make yourself at home. We'll provide you with whatever you need. Imagine – Ted Faro, greatest of the Ancestors, once more lending us his strength!"
"I thought I was going to throw up," Aloy said, curling her toes against the seagrass mat. Seyka's hut nestled against the shoreline, so close to the waterfront that during high tide, the ocean soaked the furniture. Seyka said she chose this place because it reminded her of being on a ship. She missed the sway of wood beneath her feet.
"They don't know any better," Seyka said. "To them, Ted Faro is still a hero. In fact, two months ago, I still thought he was a hero."
"Living Ancestor? Really?"
Seyka's lips teased a smile. "Did you want me to call you Anointed of the Nora instead? I hate getting ignored when I'm actively being talked about."
Seyka's hands flew in deft patterns as she chopped up vegetables. Kindleweed, beanstem, knots of kelp. She moved in cooking as she moved in battle – confident, assured, without waste. Aloy watched her for so long she didn't even realize she'd finished.
"Steamed moonfish." Seyka slid her a bowl. "Caught it this morning."
Aloy bit into a creamy white fillet. "So? Will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Come with me."
"I already said I would."
"That was in front of everyone. If you don't want to come, if you'd rather stay here or go back to the mainland – "
Seyka brandished her spoon like a sword. "I already told you. I miss home, but there's so much to do here. Suixin suo yu tanso. Explore to your heart's will. That's the motto of the marines. Honestly, I'm getting bored. Being Gerrit's glorified secretary is nowhere as fun as the promotion would make you believe."
Something unknotted in Aloy's chest. Unreasonable to disbelieve – Seyka had never given her cause to doubt – shouldn't Aloy have learned better by now?
Some mornings she woke thinking that kiss by the sunset was a dream, and when she returned to Landfall the Quen girl known as Seyka would remember her only in passing.
Circumstances had forced them apart. Aloy had been busy with Nemesis, while the reunification of the fleet tied down Seyka as Gerrit's lieutenant. Those first few stumbling steps toward romance had also been their farewell.
Aloy slurped down her noodles. Quen cuisine was milder than heavily-salted Nora fare (to better preserve meat through winter) or Carja cuisine with its thousands of spices. She finished the fish and gulped down the rest of the soup.
"It'll take weeks, at least, round-trip," Aloy said. "The Embrace is far off. Still, it'll be quicker if we fly – oh, don't make that face, we won't be flying the whole time. We'll stop by Memorial Grove, say hi to Hekarro. Plainsong next, though I don't expect to be there for long – wait, before Plainsong, we'll drop by the base. You can meet my sister. After that we'll go to the Daunt – "
"Slow down," Seyka said, laughing. "You know, I really thought you were making all of it up. FAS. I thought you just wanted to go on a trip together."
In a monumental act of courage, Aloy slipped her hand into Seyka's. The other girl's skin was cool and surprisingly soft.
"I have to make this journey. I'd rather not make it alone."
They ate, and drank, and talked for a while. Seyka had paired their meal with a sweet alcohol – miju, she called it, distilled from grains in the mainland, that they sipped from little cups. Yes, Rheng had gotten himself released from the brig. Gerrit couldn't (unfortunately) lock up the little snoop forever. Ceo's death shocked everyone in Fleet's End; the royal family cultivated an air of mysticism, that their skin couldn't bleed, their lungs couldn't drown. Well, Aloy said, they burn as well as the rest of us.
Kina was recovering well. After the Horus, even Londra's most devoted fanatics couldn't explain why their god would send a Metal Devil to annihilate them.
Afterwards, they walked along the beach. A thriving night market still rang out, but they left Landfall behind, walking hand-in-hand, squishing sand between their toes. Above, stars blinked like the pupils of an Apex machine.
It scared her, how much she liked the other woman. Aloy had never felt a similar emotion. This, too, was Elisabet Sobeck. What did she fear more?
Beneath the moon-shadow silhouetted by ruined skyscrapers with waves lapping at their ankles, they kissed again. Aloy's hands fumbled against the curve of Seyka's neck. She inhaled salt and sweat and caraway, intoxicated on more than wine, and it would've been unbelievably perfect had Aloy not taken a step forward (to force their bodies closer) and slipped against wet rock.
They went down in tangled limbs and drenched hair. Spluttering, Aloy pushed herself up, dragging Seyka with her, who spat out sea water. Kelp stuck to the Quen's ornaments. The two stared at each other, cold-shocked, then burst into laughter.
They sat down on the sand. Aloy traced ephemeral patterns. Sometimes, in the bloodrush of the machine hunt, she felt as if the world didn't exist. Humanity reduced to her and the machine, each the other's world entire.
She felt it now in this darkness.
"You're my first, you know," Aloy said.
Seyka glanced sideways at her. "You? Really? Savior of Meridian? She Who Flies on the Wings of the Eleven? Surely others must've been interested."
"It's Ten. I don't know. Maybe." She thought of Avad and shuddered. "One, I suppose. I guess I've never felt the need. What about you?"
Seyka hugged her knees, feet trailing in the water. "A few. The last one, we broke up before I set out. She was a navigator, went to the Imperial Academy with me."
There was so much Aloy didn't know. She wanted to dismantle Seyka like a machine.
"Do you miss her?"
Seyka rested her head against Aloy's shoulder. Damp hair tickled her cheek. They shivered together.
"I don't think I miss any of them. Quen society – well, you do what's expected of you." Seyka breathed in deep the salt-tang wind. "There's freedom here. I don't think you realize what you don't have until you have it. There's no royal family, no Board, no Compliance. The chain of command's so broken a petty officer can become lieutenant in weeks. We destroyed a Metal Devil! Is it arrogant to believe that's not even the tip of what I can accomplish?"
"We'll save the world," Aloy whispered, promised, into her ear, "and watch it tremble."
They stayed until the tide turned high, and in the morning set out.