Bee entered the shadowed embrace of a new alcove, with the ascending tunnel just ahead, closely following the injured warrior who moved on all fours until she reached the shade. She gazed down at the silent Eidolon, noticing the warrior’s deep, shuddering breaths as she remained on her hands and knees. Bee was drawn to the Eidolon’s condition; her pale skin was visibly damaged, exhibiting red, raw blisters — a testament to even the briefest encounter with the harsh light of the hated daystar. The Eidolon, evidently in discomfort, clutched her cloak tightly, seeking refuge beneath its protective cover.


    Slowly, Bee knelt beside the pained warrior, hearing the sounds of her suffering. It was then that Bee’s eyes fell upon a shard of heavy shell, fractured and lying on the ground. Memories of her capture and the harsh treatment she endured at the hands of her captors flooded back, tempting her to take action. She contemplated picking up the jagged piece, her gaze settling on the back of the Eidolon’s head. It would be simple — to take the heavy stone and smack the injured warrior across the skull again and again until she stops breathing. Bee could rationalise it as an act of revenge, self-defence, or anything really. Ay would probably have encouraged her to do it, she thought. Don’t get caught again. And why should she?


    “Don’t do it,” the Worm whispered. Bee closed her eyes and exhaled a deep sigh. The parasite was right. She didn’t want to become that kind of person.


    “Ay said they want to eat me,” Bee thought, even thought she had already decided against it.


    “I know,” the Worm said. “The Eidolon has been many things to my hosts. A saviour. A terror. I’ve never experienced the politics of your kind — not myself, firsthand — but from the thoughts I have tasted, she deserves more than that. And you think so too, don’t you, Sweetheart?”


    Bee’s heart fluttered when she looked down at the Eidolon. Was the worm messing with her feelings again? She felt it roll and squirm inside her skull and flinched.


    “Who even is she?” Bee’s expression grew tight and she grimaced.


    “One of the former Knights Celebrant of a distant man that goes by the name of the Lord of Bones, and his witch-wife.”


    “The Wire-Witch,” Bee realised.


    “Ah... You’ve met her.” The Worm paused, savouring the stolen memory. “Oh, this is exciting.”


    Bee shook her head again, trying to shake away the disquieting sensation of that voice in her head.


    “I didn’t want to leave you there with them,” Bee said aloud, trying to return her attention to the present. The Eidolon shuddered, and metallic silver fluid seeped from her wounds as they gradually mended. So Bee continued, “With the hounds, I mean. I think I led them there. One caught me earlier, but he cut my back, then let me go. I think they can smell my blood, or something.”


    Bee thought she saw the Eidolon nod beneath her hood.


    “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt,” Bee said quietly. “I warned them about the hound. And I couldn’t bear to see you fall, not after you saved me.”


    The Eidolon abruptly turned, gently taking Bee’s elbow in her grasp, their forearms touching. The silent warrior communicated with a rapid tapping of her fingertips. “You have honour,” the Eidolon said in that language of touch.


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    “You can’t speak?” Bee asked, gently tapping one of the few unmarred patches of skin on the warrior’s arm.


    Rising to her full height, the Eidolon gently guided Bee upward. At first, Bee thought she was merely being helped to stand. But then the warrior encouraged her to straighten fully, to stand on her feet, legs straight, back upright, and her wings cast back.


    “I cannot speak,” the Eidolon communicated silently, mirroring the posture she encouraged. “But you, you are akin to a Goddess, beautiful in your being.”


    “What do you mean?” Bee’s eyes widened in confusion.


    “Are you not the true daughter of the Vat-Mother of Sestchek?” The Eidolon tilted her head slightly under her hood, her gaze contemplative as she studied Bee.


    “I am,” Bee confirmed softly.


    The Eidolon’s twelve eyes locked onto Bee’s with a profound intensity.


    “Then you are worthy of worship. Please, do not diminish yourself by crawling in the muck and the mire.”


    Another flutter of warmth spread through Bee’s chest, her purple cheeks flushing a deeper shade. The words of this warrior, who had become her protector, resonated with a profound sense of wonder. Could her words hold truth, or was this merely another deception akin to the misleading ways of the outsiders at the oasis?


    “I wish for you to accompany me,” the Eidolon communicated through a tender gesture, her touch seemingly aimed at comforting Bee.


    “No!” Bee reacted sharply. She jerked back, trying to break the Eidolon’s contact with her arm.


    The Eidolon — despite every physical advantage — let her go.


    “I’m not your prisoner!” Bee said aloud.


    The Eidolon faced her squarely, her stance posing a silent inquiry into Bee’s resolve. Bee retreated until her wings and the fluted structures on her back grazed the wall. Her gaze flicked towards the daylight streaming from the chasm nearby.


    “Why should I trust you? You say I’m a Goddess, but is that assurance of safety?” Bee challenged, her eyes lifting to meet the Eidolon’s own. The silent warrior offered no immediate response. Instead, she averted her gaze, contemplating Bee’s pointed question.


    “Am I actually safe with you?” Bee pressed for a clear answer.


    The Eidolon shook her head, seeming deep in some terrible thought.


    “Then I choose to go my own way, thank you,” Bee declared firmly.


    The Eidolon reached for Bee’s arm once more, but her touch was gentle, merely a means to resume their silent conversation.


    “I could not slay the hounds and you cannot defeat them alone. It is not safe for you to wander by yourself,” the Eidolon offered by touch.


    Turning her head away, Bee responded defiantly, “I’m willing to risk it.”


    “Your safety is of utmost importance,” the Eidolon persisted. “Moreover, they might use you as bait again. They recognise your significance. They understand that their adversaries seek you. People will be hurt.”


    At these words, Bee’s resolve began to waver. She raised her eyes to meet the Eidolon’s, filled with a melancholic understanding.


    “I will escort you to a safe haven, a place where neither the hounds nor your captors can reach you,” the Eidolon proposed. “Once there, we can decide our next course of action, together. Allow me this, please.”


    “How can I trust you?” Bee asked, scepticism colouring her tone.


    “You have my word as my oath,” the Eidolon conveyed with a slow, deliberate series of taps. “I vow to shield you from any harm.”


    Bee studied the Eidolon with a critical eye, her expression a mix of doubt and contemplation, followed by a resigned huff. Despite her reservations, she found herself inclined to trust the silent warrior, even as she mentally chastised herself for the seemingly foolish decision.


    “Fine.” Bee relented. “Where are we going?”


    There was a brief, contemplative pause from the Eidolon, her prehensile teeth emitting a soft chittering sound as she considered her response.


    “We head for the temple of your lineage, in the lost reach of Cruiros,” she finally communicated.