She did not dream; she remembered.


    A distant now.


    The sky roared and, above Ismene, there was a growing light.


    Her senses told her astonishing things. There was a great path of fire in the west; a track, she amended. A ruined and twisted wake of destruction. At its head was the creature. Around her, there were tiny signs of panic, each a point of light, each fleeing with whatever aid she could give them using her artifice.


    She had broken many self-made rules, and she could not allow that in the future.


    Systemic shutdown within her boundaries would be unavoidable; once she opened up her reserves and laid out a greater fire upon her target, there would be very little that survived within her radius. The land would become dangerous to live in; she would be left alone. It was a small mercy to know that in the time she slept, perhaps the world would forget that she could cause such destruction. Ismene had no desire to encourage, or participate in, war.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The Voice was determined to stay until the last; Ismene knew that she would perish, and grieved. Within her, the Voice smiled grimly. It is well, she said. All will be well. I won’t leave you. We have to do this.


    West of Ismene, the giant creature seemed to know that something wished it harm. It stared across the open land at her, watching the growing star, the expanding aura of green and gold over the mountains.


    Ismene could feel her circuits opened up to their limit. She was uncertain that it would be enough. Any further, though, and she would be unable to control either the attack, or its effect on what landscape could still be preserved.


    She lashed out with her power—