It’s all going to hell.


    It’s all going to hell, and I have no idea how to fix it.


    Our forces are scattered. Pulled apart in every direction. We’ve returned to using direct meta-transmissions—experience fighting Ori-Thaum means we still have our own networks; Heavens that can communicate with each other so we aren’t entirely in the dark, but the war hosts are dismembered. The Seraphs are missing too and the ones that are still around give out conflicting orders and the Great Houses—don’t get me fucking started on those godsdamn—


    They don’t listen. They won’t listen. Not to me. Not without a fight. This—I hate to think like this, but the High Seraph made us this way. Made so individually strong. Flexible. Made us each a king to our own forces. Warlords all. But warlords all under her—directed by her first, shaped to a common purpose: One unifying dream.


    Now that she’s… absent, we are turning against each other. Like a pride of nu-lions composed of nothing but pride males. And so Highflame gets pulled apart from within. Now, even the Infacer is sending out broadcasts, calling for our forces to re-enter the Substance via the Noosphere.


    But what waits for us there? What but death? What but ruin? And out here, Ori-Thaum remains standings stronger than ever before. Somehow, they were ready. Somehow, they remain impossibly coordinated, picking us off with their allies—wolfpacks hunting lone lions.


    Veylis made us this way. Veylis made us champions to ourselves. But single champions cannot win wars, and without her guidance, I fear what is to come.


    I fear that I might not be enough…


    -Personal Mem-Log Acting Authority Santanando Mondelles


    31-1


    A Throne Divided


    —[Vator Greatling]—


    The atmosphere was tinged with a particular taste of grimness. Vator sniffed the scene from all the unwashed bodies lining the halls of Axtraxis Academy, from the aching silence that was only periodically broken by murmurs about losses, kills, and engagements. Halos spun slowly as he proceeded down the welcoming lobby of Axtraxis. He remembered this place from six years and a lifetime ago, entering for the first time to claim his right to become an acting Instrument.


    His family had already gained a reputation through his sister, who was so driven by shame and rage that she proved herself a terror on and off the field. For every insult Jhred earned, for every defeat he suffered, Abrel repaid against most of his opposition, proving an adept technical operator.


    Yet, according to her instructors, she had a fatal flaw: rage. The same thing that propelled her led her into traps, ploys, and impossible battles. Abrel was a terror, but she was not among the elite. This only fed into her rage more, which made her perform worse.


    Enter: Vator. He arrived nearly at the same time as his sister departed. Already, the Greatling name had regained some prominence, but alas, mother’s actions and Jhred’s weakness left a stench that was hard to cleanse fully. But unlike his sister, Vator was a different kind of person—and created to be a bit better of a human.


    The tactics that worked on her were but amusements to him, and among his classmates, he felt a like a visitor at a zoo. Except, rather than being a person peering through the cages at animals, he felt like a higher being standing inside the metaphorical cage with the people. Their behaviors were so predictable; the way they acted betrayed by their biology—he didn’t even need access to their minds.


    Matter and mind are more closely entwined than most understand—than even Vator could understand. But he saw enough. And what he saw allowed him to play with his prey and learn from them. Learn, assimilate, replicate, and create art. Expression was the greatest thing that separated creature and man and beings that were more.


    And right now, the expression on the faces of the people he passed by, of the defensive thaumic fortifications established to defend Axtraxis from all manner of assault, of the billions of mechs, bioforms, and drones; the millions of golems and Regulars; the thousands of Godclads was loss.


    Utter loss.


    They were directionless. Unsure of themselves. Unsure of the path ahead. Unsure and adrift. So true was the taste that even his Portrait remarked upon them. “Their bodies are as worn as their features. These are a strong people without direction, awaiting demise.”


    Vator’s “escorts” led him through checkpoint after checkpoint, with defensive drones and soldiers stationed all over Orientation Hall. The massive columns here sculpted with martyrs who died in the line of duty and champions lionized through triumph and bloodshed were chipped and marred. Shrapnel. And pieces of tissue lodged within the wounds left upon the supports. A battle had been fought here. Or an explosive was smuggled aboard the station. Whatever the case, it told enough of Highflame’s dire straits.


    “Please hold, Instrument Greatling.”


    Vator eyed his escort and offered a polite smirk. She was a tall girl. Taller than he by far, with a good amount of enhancements to her musculature. But he could tell her age from the lack of plague in her brain—young. Too young to be a full Instrument. Fifteen, if he were to wager a guess. Ah. Another sign: they were promoting students and using them for reserve duties.


    Space condensed around his escort, and he saw a swirl of oscillating lights pulse out from her body. A traveling vibration tumbled across the surrounding matter and slipped through the massive gold-lacquered gates smelted from duranium. Beyond which, the first level of Axtraxis lurked. The level for the louts. A stage Vator skipped with ease thanks to his high academic and practical scores. Above the gate where the words Steel is From Fire Born carved.


    A proud and declarative statement. It, too, was stained with splattered gristle and blood.


    +Well. Ain’t been part of the Guild for a while but… the Gold’s have seen better days.+ Draus’ thoughtcast snaked out a shard of glass clutched within Vator’s chest. He had taken to moving her around and hiding her in nearby bodies via subtle miracles as he passed through the scanners. She sounded mostly displeased about the state of her former Guild as well. As she should. Though they were foes now, Guard-Captain Jelene Draus had once been one of the High Seraph’s finest hunting dogs.


    That was, until Vator’s mother, Lorea—


    Vator blinked. He staggered as he clutched his head. A surge of vertigo passed through him. For a moment, he thought his blood pressure was shifting against his will, but no, this was purely mental. He was remembering something that had been missing for so long—no, not missing, hidden.


    He could… he could see her. A flash of her long, crimson hair. Her imposing stature. Her hand pressed against the glass of his vat as he drifted and grew and slowly became…Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    A hiss sounded from the gates. The path beyond Orientation Hall into Axtraxis proper opened with a rush of cold air. Beyond stood three figures. Vator was already familiar with the first among their number as his Portrait brushed the man’s biology.


    Santando Mondelles. Instructor and Instrument. A man who had little love for Vator or most scions of the Great Houses—a loathing one tended to develop should their cadre be abandoned to Stormtree forces by their more “high-blooded” allies. As the door opened fully, Vator took in his former instructor and found his dishevelment fitting. He looked ragged, well beyond exhaustion. Dark stubble marked his face and contrasted with his bloodshot eyes. Patches of hair were missing from his scalp as patches of burn wounds slowly healed.


    “Instrument Mondelles,” Vator greeted with a wide grin. Mondelles frowned in return, clearly no more fond of Vator after all the time they spent apart.


    “Acting Authority now,” Mondelles replied. “I am glad to see that you are well, Instrument Greatling. We managed to secure your father earlier—he’s current recuperating. Your sister remains missing in action.”


    “I see,” Vator breathed. The part about his father he knew, but acting Authority… For Mondelles to become Acting Authority so suddenly, a great many things needed to be going wrong indeed. A thoughtcast from Draus echoing the words: +Acting Authority? Shit’s fucked,+ put Vator and the Regular in rare accord.


    “You will be cleared to reunite with him after a final evaluation,” Mondelles said. He swallowed slightly as he looked Vator up and down, narrowing his gaze. “So far, you and your father are among an extremely select few that have managed to escape the Substance. This marks you as a person of interest. You know the procedure.”


    “Indeed I do,” Vator nodded. He doubted Mondelles was trying to perform some manner of deception, but the man’s paranoia was clearly high. And as for father… well, Vator couldn’t be sure about his state either. Though Ignorance stole Vator away from the Seraph’s plans, did the same apply to his father, his sister?


    Oh, dear. It took very little time to see why Mondelles was so paranoid. “Lead the way, then, Authority Mondelles. Let us be efficient about things.”


    Vator tried on his best smile and Mondelles shot in a final stare before turning, and leading him in. As Vatior passed through into the first level of the academy, he found quick-fabbed installations dotting the expanse of a planar wilderness. These temporary structures housed equipment, soldiers, technicians, and more. A row of temporary barracks extended as far as Vator could see, and all around him were bodies—sheathes of all morphs and implants and clades.


    “They are scattered,” his Portrait whispered. “Speaking among themselves. Isolated. Most of them do not know the others nearby. Most are suspicious. Most are lost. Lost.”


    Over the horizon, Vator saw a platform installed upon a chrome pillar descending from above, passing through a canopy made from dense foliage. He sensed more bodies on the platform. Godclads all, but so far he realized he didn’t truly know anyone here either. It was then that a realization slowly dawned on Vator: the separation of entire warhosts have effectively rendered Highflame a confused force. With how the Great Houses used different strategies and methods—were organized in their own unique fashion as well.


    This among many things made Highflame formidable. They were effective armies within armies, and no two warhost were entirely the same on the battlefield. But now, with warriors and specialists mixed together from myriad armies, their effectiveness was diluted, and aside from basic procedures, they would likely need to acclimate to each other. While there was a war going on.


    +Look at these sad fuckin’ half-strands,+ Draus scoffed. Her scorn for their disarray was clear, and thus far, he noticed one thing—he hadn’t actually seen any Regulars truly stationed here.+Like lambs. Lost sheep without a master. Ain’t seen a Guard-Captain around here either. Not even a Dragoon. Regs are trained to fight together. We share a common baseline. Now’s the time to use us as a structure. Now’s the time, but I don’t see no Reg.+


    +I suspect this is a den for—+ Vator’s mind stopped.


    +What? Actual Golds? Not the meat you just sacrifice and waste?+


    Her bitterness was justified but unhelpful. +Perhaps they are one another level?+


    +You think an Instrument of the Great Houses is gonna put up with a Reg living above him? That’s a hell of a statement, juv.+


    Truly. Hell of a statement it was. Just then, he felt Draus’ shard radiate with a sudden surge of activity.


    +Huh,+ Draus said.


    +Huh, what?+ Vator asked.


    She didn’t reply, instead he felt a reflection nearby sudden flash and then dim. The youngest Greatling frowned. For though he tried to be a genuine accomplice, the Regular was determined to treat him like something akin to a pest or a burden. It would be maddening if she wasn’t so childish about it. The rancor was understandable, but still it was—


    +I think I sense another shard nearby. And there’s something else… someone else…+ Draus’ thoughtcast silenced Vator as Mondelles led him in the direction of the platform that was vanishing behind a wall of green. +Keep with Mondelles. See if you can get him alone at some point. I’m gonna wanna have a chat with him soon.+


    +And what will you be doing right now?+ Vator asked. Draus was clearly up to something, and he wanted to know what.


    The Regular replied with a low grunt. +Consang of a consang whispered in my year. There’s someone in the bottom of this place I gotta find.+


    It was like not getting any answer at all. Vator closed his eyes and let out a near-groan. Mondelles turned his head and regarded the Instrument. The Greatling hid his frustration with a yawn. “Long day.”


    Mondelles studied him a moment longer. “It’s not done yet. Not for any of us. Not even close.”


    ***


    —[Draus]—


    He is here… him and her as well…


    Ignorance returned to Draus unbidden like an old memory, as she jumped from reflection to reflection, building her Liminal Paracosm within Axtraxis. The Regular remembered the Definement the moment she became aware of him, and her cog-feed blinked as pointed highlighted one accretion among the millions packed into Axtraxis Academy.


    Too many… strain… Her gaze is total… Chambers… Love…Majority…


    His voice trailed off to a choking whisper, and though Ignorance continued speaking, it wasn’t anything Draus could understand.


    +Avo?+ Draus asked, almost concerned about Ignorance’s condition. Where the Definement was silent, Mercy materialized in his stead.


    +You are to proceed to the levels below,+ Mercy proclaimed. +The Dreamer has sensed a member of his cadre entrapped within a metaphysical cage. You are to make contact and retrieve from him what information you can. Free him if possible.+


    +Who?+ Draus shot back, annoyed. Ignorance, she’d listen to, but Mercy? That half-strand was still a Low Master. Don’t matter that belonged to Avo now—if you could perform a betrayal once, you could do it again.


    +Ignorance is over-taxed. He works to deny the Seraph’s awareness many of his assets.+


    +That wasn’t—+


    +Shotin Kazahara.+


    That captured Draus’ attention. +Shotin? Shotin is here?+


    +Not only he,+ Mercy said. +But a few Paladins as well. His niece among them… A shard. Two shards… Uthred Greatling as well… Two more Flame Anchors. The task is clear, Regular Draus. Seek your Soul-Kin. Unite the fragments. Restore the wholeness of the Dreamer’s form.+


    Another set of markers appeared above her, and Draus intuitively knew that to ascend was to discover Uthred Greatling, while to delve deeper was to come upon Shotin Kazahara. She considered her choices momentarily before heading down. Shotin was a friendly. Well, was one before, anyway. Avo claimed his mind and he was part of the gestalt. If he was being housed here, though? Chances are he was a prisoner of war. The less likely possibility was him lurking in the dark somewhere, hiding.


    Traveling through beams of luminosity, Draus extended her reach through polished armors, reflective optical implants, and passing drones to arrive carry her toward the platform in the distance.


    In a while, Vator would be reunited with his father after Mondelles was finished with him. She would intercept Mondelles and Uthred one after another when that happened. Preferably after using Ignorance to clear Mondelles first—if the Definement was up to it. She could use an ally here, and though Mondelles was a Gold through and through, he offered her his favor once upon a time, and now some part of her felt beholden to do the same.


    Before all that, Shotin and the Paladins. If they were trapped here, she was going to see them freed and primed for combat. But as she continued down, squeezing through the crevice between the platform and the maintenance level below, Draus let out an internal groan. Of course Avo had her sneaking through a Highflame facility to save an Ori Seeker. Rotlick loved his unexpected situations.