No single ship in the colony fleet had ever been designed with any kind of style in mind, since there was never any need to provide creature-comfort to the unconscious cargo. That said, most of the place was built with largely raw, unpainted metal, and that made the large atrium that housed the warp core look rather dark and intimidating. The Fafnir had dropped flares around the perimeter of the room, giving it as much illumination as was humanly possible, but it did nothing to alleviate the depth of those shadows, or the way the flickering light made said shadows dance and writhe on the walls.


    Seth whined pitifully from behind Furion’s back, sheltering under those faintly-glowing wings, “This place has to be haunted. It has to be. There’s no way something like this is entirely dead.”


    Furion snorted a quiet laugh behind his visor, but he dared not pry his brother from his hiding place, “Maybe focus on what the Myrmidon are doing? Once upon a time, the Second Wing was supposed to be responsible for things like this. The incorporation and unity of Limitless power and technology. What they’re doing ought to be your jam.”


    “Their masks freak me out.” Seth whispered.


    “Then what are you going to do here?” The Captain wondered, arms crossed, though he twisted slightly to look at the teen cringing behind him, “The whole point was to give you a first-row seat to the cracking of the core.”


    “I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.” The teen answered, and tried to step out. The sight of the Myrmidon bent around the control console – and the terrifying way the fluttering lights bounced off of them – made them look like ghouls, and he immediately turned around with a squeak.


    Gabriel glanced over, and felt bad, but there wasn’t much for it. He turned his eyes instead to the sight of the Fafnir waiting for the core to open. Though he couldn’t see their faces through their visors, there was an obvious air of tension around the room. By all accounts, Rylen was the only one excited about what was going on, as the Eidolon watched with an anticipatory smile. Xanarken seemed entirely indifferent to the concept; perhaps he’d seen it all too many times. After all, there were some 15 SkyFortresses in the Council’s fleet, and there must have been a certain expectation with what would be happening.


    A temporary power-source would be used to unlock the core, the sealed door would be opened, three bodies would be removed, and the painstaking process of disassembling the sphere into more manageable pieces would begin. After three centuries, the sight of bodies probably didn’t bother the Fourth anymore, or he’d programmed himself to look stoic about it in spite of how he truly felt. Whatever the case, once they’d arrived in that atrium, the Eidolon had simply crossed his arms and watched quietly, unmoving.


    Gabriel’s eyes kept wandering over to Ren, but she seemed distracted by their surroundings, completely focused on her task. He couldn’t tell if – despite being assigned to protect him directly – she was avoiding him, or she thought she could do her job from anywhere in the room. When the control panel was suddenly snapped shut, and the loud bang it made caused everyone nearby to jump, all focus was on the Myrmidon, and the unnerving digitized voice they spoke with to hide their true sound.


    “We’re ready. The power supply is connected.”


    Rylen nodded, “Begin.”


    “Yessir.”


    The portable generator was turned on, and within seconds, the console lit-up as well.


    “Get in there, sport.” Rylen added, looking directly at Gabriel, “Time to earn your keep.”


    The mediator gawked for a moment, but shook his head and stepped forward; it was time to play his only role. Seth peeked around Furion’s crossed arms to watch him go, and his heart pounded in his chest. Wing Team Two idled closer to the mechanical sphere, all-but hovering over their Inquisitor charges. Wing Team One moved in closer to himself, and Ren began to walk over as well, restoring the solid-light panels of each of her massive red wings as she did so. They extended to their fullest span at first, then folded in behind her.


    Gabriel couldn’t help but think back on the moment she’d shielded him with them while they were under siege by the Warrior-Magistrate. He shook the memory away and blinked hard, pinching the bridge of his nose as he paused in place.


    “Closer.” Rylen commanded.


    The mediator looked over at him, and took another wary step towards the sphere.


    “Closer.”


    “…Any closer and I’ll have to buy it a drink.” Gabriel growled. It was a mild relief to hear at least some of the Fafnir chortle a laugh under their breath. He looked back up at the ominously large metallic orb, iron-clad and suspended on a short pedestal in the recessed floor, “I was 15 feet away from the void gate in Kitez when my eyes lit-up. I’m sure this is plenty close.”


    To Gabriel’s chagrin – after spending the last day and a half aboard the Fafnir’s home-ship without getting anywhere near any of them – he was suddenly surrounded rather closely on all sides. Ren had taken-point a few paces behind him, and both Ravan and Michelle had gotten to his sides. Between the three of them, they’d practically created a solid-light corral around him, spreading their wings out to shield him from any direction.


    Then, to his shock and surprise, he felt a hand against his back, “…Easy.”


    “…You say that like it’s possible.” He answered stiffly.


    “We’ll talk later.”


    That didn’t make him feel better at all.


    “We’re opening the warp core now.” The Myrmidon at the control-panel said, voice crackling in that monotone way.


    Hearts went into everyone’s throats. Rylen took an eager step closer. Xanarken stayed as he was, arms crossed, eyes intently ahead. Ren was the only one who had her finger on the proverbial trigger, keeping one hand on the hilt of a plasma-blade.


    The core hissed, and locks clicked. Everyone twitched to hear it…and all eyes went straight to Gabriel.


    .


    “…I…I can’t believe it.” Aamin commented, his one remaining eye looking at the hazy image of the Duchy. He recoiled into himself, and lifted an arm to cover what he knew quite-well was the horror of his visage, “I’m sorry you have to see me this way.”


    Far’nah swallowed a nervous lump, and steeled herself before she turned to approach on the man’s right side – the one that didn’t look like it had been irradiated and melted, “My dear friend, you’ve been through some harsh things recently.”


    “…Too many…” He lowered his gaze, staring at the reddened, exposed sight of his left arm, “I thought it was over when the Inquisitors finally agreed to take Iresha away, but…it was all a trick. They played me for a fool.”


    “Sargon is a lost cause, I’m afraid.” Far’nah said, and pulled the good hand into her own and onto her lap to stroke it softly, “You did everything you could. Your nephew’s predicament sealed their fate. It’s just us against the world, now.”


    “Take me to Oceanside…I beg of you…” Aamin pleaded, “Regulus has done everything he can for me here. I know I’m just a secret project though. No one knows I’m here. No one outside this room even has reason to believe I’m still alive.”


    “There are those who will always doubt.” Far’nah noted, the chimes on her antlered crown jingling quietly, “Without your body, they can never know for sure. For that reason, I’m afraid we can’t bring you to Oceanside yet.”The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Aamin looked utterly deflated, “…How much longer do I have to wait to restart my life?”


    “I don’t think it’ll be much longer.” She answered, thumb going slowly back and forth against the back of his hand, “The young Prince is on the eve of being sent to Agartha; your brother has apparently felt the pressure to agree to that, and…well, after what happened to Rani, he no longer had the will to resist. The Eidolon are taking advantage of his pain.”


    “…He’s sending away his wife’s murderer, more like.” Aamin stiffly corrected, “I wouldn’t be able to look at his face either.”


    “In either case, once the Prince has left, the pressure will be on for Iresha to join the Hadiran Accord. Everything we’ve worked for all these years…the prosperity, the independence, and all of our pride…will be split apart. There are pieces in play on this grand chess-board that I seek to move, to ensure Kitez remains self-sufficient in this world. We will be the last vestige of a land uncorrupted by the Eidolon.” Far’nah explained.”


    Aamin nodded sadly, “…The home I loved is gone… The people and places I knew, erased… All because of that fucking kid…” He shook his head angrily, but then looked squarely at the Duchess, “When is the Younger supposed to leave?”


    “In a few weeks, from what we’ve learned. Shortly before the Dawn of Ages celebration. Mardu’s shadow retains ties to Sargon and occasionally gives us pertinent information.” She explained, and nudged her head back towards her quiet husband, waiting by the door with the Magistrate, “I suppose it’s one reason to keep him around, if for any.”


    “…His shadow? You mean…that dissident?” Aamin asked skeptically, “The one who started the riot at the palace?”


    “The very same. You can understand my trepidation over keeping that one around.” Far’nah affirmed, and reached forward to push a few strands of that long, stiff black hair over the man’s right ear, “He’s kept a low profile though, thankfully, and he stays inside the Duchy’s main residence. And, I suppose, as long as he maintains his belief that the Council should stay out of Sargon, then the fact that his riot got away from him can be…overlooked.”


    “I…see…” Aamin lowered his gaze in understanding, “…Can I have the honor of being one of your pieces?”


    She smiled, “There is room yet for a trump-card on the board. For now, rest, recover, and regain your strength. You are far from ready to leave this place.”


    .


    In the sub-levels, far below the make-shift medical ward, Latheroux turned his eye towards the Limitless-user beside him, “Before I engage with it, what’s your report on the situation? What’s this thing that’s taken Sir Ianori?”


    Kourin narrowed her eyes slightly, “You promised me an update from Oceanside first. I’m adrift in this place…completely out of the loop. You and Tallus have been carrying on without me all this time. I made it possible for you to come here…now you owe me.”


    “My apologies for that, Kourin.” Latheroux reached out to stroke that pale hair, and slid a finger under her chin, “Your assessment is fair. …Oceanside is faltering, in essence.”


    Her expression changed, “They’re slipping? But…how? Between you and Tallus, this should’ve been a cake-walk…”


    “Far’nah is resisting Tallus’ influence.” The masked man answered, and turned again to look at Scyrexianori – dormant, or napping, he wasn’t sure which, “She so-desperately wants to attack the Council head-on that she’s breaking through his charm. Every time he revisits the domination he once had over her, she re-convinces herself of her noble path. Mardu refuses to grow a spine and take responsibility for his half of the Duchy, even with Tallus and I pulling his strings. They’re both…fanatical about the positions they’ve taken. Tallus worries his control will eventually lose effectiveness altogether. We are desperate for a solution.”


    “…Is that why you wanted to see this thing?” She wondered cautiously, “You were so keen on the destruction it caused…”


    “Not entirely. That was after I had already decided to find this Knight.” Latheroux shook his head, “This creature came straight out of a void gate.”


    That got Kourin’s interest, “A void gate…!? No one told me there was a void gate active!”


    “That’s because the late Magistrate Gavin Mallerd found it first, and summoned the First here to study it. There was nothing I could do…and no point in getting your hopes up. But…this…” He gestured at Scyrexian, “This changes everything.”


    “What are you thinking?”


    “I’ll show you.” He answered, and reached the invisible hand at his side towards the intercom, “Are you there? Sir Ianori.”


    With weeks to forge itself, Scyrexian had turned the former Fafnir into a weapon. Those pitiful stick-like bat-wings were now fully formed, and so large, their full extent could not be measured in the confines of the blasting box. The resin-like plating over his core and limbs was hardened and solid, with golden, jewel-like swellings across its chest, arms, and down its legs. Traces of that red-black miasma misted from those closed eyes, and at the sound of the voice, cracked open slightly, allowing a glut of it to escape, “…I am here. But I am not Ianori. I am…more.”


    “Fascinating… It’s just like you said.” Latheroux looked to Kourin, then back to the glass and re-clicked the comm-button, “You go by Scyrexianori now, isn’t that right?”


    “That is correct. What do you want?”


    “The devastation you caused on the Magistrate’s ship. Was that random or calculated?”


    “Nothing is random. Even chaos is structured, if you know how to read it.” Scyrexianori answered vaguely, “I seek the one with the sight. Those other things were in my way. That’s all.”


    “You let that one soldier go. I’m told you explained it away as being a trade. Is that roughly correct?”


    “All actions and intentions in balance. Favors for favors. I want to go back to where I’m supposed to be…the information that soldier gave me led me to the tool I sought after. For that, I spared him. It’s what he wanted, after all.”


    Latheroux pulled his hand back in consideration, a finger tapping his lip for a moment. He reached to click the button again, “So if I scratch your back, you’ll scratch mine.”


    “If what you can offer me will get me to the man with the sight…I am amenable to negotiation.” Scyreixanori answered, and pushed up from that seat it had been in. Those massive wings flexed a little, the membranes between its many fingers stretching and retracting again with each movement. Scyrexianori approached the glass – from its perspective, the glass was black - and put its hands upon it…then seemed to look through it, “I can’t see you from this side, but I can sense that you’re there…”


    Kourin took several steps backward, and the masked man lifted his finger, “…The last time it got close like that, it blasted a surge of force that sent me flying. I don’t want it to do it again. Don’t taunt it.”


    Latheorux let his finger hover, “Don’t worry.” He clicked again, “You can sense the affliction, even from inside, when you don’t know what’s outside.”


    “It’s faint. Not…adequate. But…enough.” It answered, moving around eerily, trying to sniff the power, “I could reach out, and use it to escape this place.”


    “Why haven’t you, then?”


    “…Something else has come up. I’ve been waiting. Developing this body slowly. It’s nearly ready to be of some use. I was soundly defeated by this host’s former colleagues. If I am to find the sight-bearer, I need more strength.”


    Kourin moved up one step, “It means Gabriel Lugios. For some reason, his affliction seems particularly tasty to it. He’s the one that was born afflicted, right? That must be the difference between him and I.”


    “Is that true? You want Gabriel?”


    Scyrexianori tilted its head slightly, then pulled back from the glass, “I believe that’s correct. That’s what this host’s memories confirm. Gabriel Lugios…” It said, burning the name into its own consciousness, “He has a power deeper and more powerful than even he is aware of, like a child wading into the ocean, but only so far as to get his toes wet. If I can get him to remove me from this body…I can use his power to open another gateway. So long as he is alive at the time.”


    Latheroux’s brow furrowed, “Would he live through that?”


    “What comes to me will leave the same way. The man you call Ianori all-but died when he fell through the rift. When I am able to get out of his body…he will surely complete that process. He does continue to cling by a very thin thread, however.”


    That one unmasked eye widened, “You said something else had come up. What is that?”


    “…I…have been discovered elsewhere.” It answered, as if distracted suddenly, “They come.”


    .


    The warp core’s single doorway slid out of the sphere’s surface like a dislodged puzzle-piece. Everyone’s attention was laser-focused. Finally…the seal was broken, and a visible shock-wave rippled out from under it. Half the Fafnir jumped to avoid it; the other half could do nothing but let it pass through them - harmlessly. Xanarken and Rylen, on the other hand, both saw the lower half of their mantles shatter into nanotech clumps. As they came back together again though, their eyes went to Ren, as she called out Gabriel’s name.


    The shockwave had knocked him out cold where he stood, eyes coalescing with a snaking trail of light. He fell to his knees, held up only by Ren’s quick reach forward.  Around him, the trio of Myrmidon collapsed as well.


    “Gabe! What happened!? Wake up!”


    “Everyone back up, now!” Furion yelled, grabbing Seth in a quick twist and took off for the nearby open hall.


    The Fafnir around him descended on their targets like a flock of crows, grabbing the three Myrmidon as they formed a defensive line for them to be taken behind. Rylen moved his mantle back as well, deforming and reforming 50ft away. Xanarken, however, held his ground, completely unmoved by the sights before him. Ren threaded her arms around Gabriel’s torso and flapped those wings to lift off, and joined the others in that wide hall.


    The sphere seemed calm again though. The inside was exposed; dark and foreboding in that flickering flare-light. Like a maggot revealed by a cut in the flesh of a fruit, however…a figure flopped out, landing with a crispy thud against the metal floor beneath the doorway. The mummified remains of one of the trio of Warp Magi lay there, broken and withered by 350 years of being lost and forgotten. Its face, a husk of its living self, retained the expression of terror from its last living moments.


    But that wasn’t the important part.


    There were three Warp Magi. That was one.


    The other two reached their hands forward from the dark, grasping at the edges of that now-open doorway…and bellowed the most ungodly groan-like shriek as their chitin-fused faces revealed themselves to the light.