The day wore on, and Aldreia Firedawn found herself spending all of it with Melitta Dorucanthos. The youngest daughter of the Dorucanthos family laughed easily, and there was a spring in her step that made Aldreia's heart shiver. Above all things, Melitta Dorucanthos was alive, and there was joy in her. Something Aldreia hadn't felt, truly felt, for a long time.

“Tell me, Aldreia,” she said, “How long have you been with your guild?”

The two of them were in the Dorucanthos Family's personal apartments, a square manor that overlooked the lake, the Warriors settlement on the other side. Aldreia was looking through one of the mounted spyglasses on the railing, and she could see, even now, Iandi with his newfound friends, splashing and playing in the water.

“Oh, five years, give or take,” Aldreia said, “Nasty lot, most of them. But a few are alright.”

She smiled at the Dorucanthos. Dinner was being laid out in the other room by one of Melitta's nail soldiers. The two of them moved out over to the dining room, sitting down and eating. The table itself was clean and almost empty. There were very few dishes in here.

“Usually,” Melitta said, “My father insists that everyone eats at his place. It's only a few floors up. The entire family, my siblings and my niece. Though I got special permission to eat here tonight.”

She gave Aldreia a wink.

“I know that feeling,” Aldreia said, “Usually I'm eating at the guild's mess hall. There's always at least a few people in there. I've often found that eating alone isn't the best for me.”

“I understand that,” Melitta said, “But... it can get dull, I guess. Eating with the same people. Eating the same meal.”

She gestured at her plate, a mix of mashed potatoes and corn. Some replicated meat.

“Sorry about the steak,” she said, “We haven't had a chance to really import any real livestock onto the plane yet. But we've got a few deals going. For now, I hope you don't mind the aftertaste.”

“It's fine,” Aldreia said, taking a bite, “Better replicated than not at all. The wonders it would do to the multiverse.”

Their conversation lapsed for a few minutes as they ate. Melitta, despite her effort to be polite, ate quickly, as though the act of eating were a detriment to herself. When she finished, she watched Aldreia. Marveled at the guildfolk's beauty. As though her every movement was divine, from the way she spoke to the way she held her fork to the way that she held herself up, stern as a rod, at the table. The cleric's training, there.

Melitta gave her a lopsided grin.

“In truth, I envy you,” she said.

“Envy me?” Aldreia said, “Why ever would you?”

“Because you travel the multiverse,” Melitta said, “Because you're in a guild. The adventures you've seen. The wonders.”

Aldreia gave her a sad smile.

“Yes,” she said, “It does have that. But it's not always sunshine and rainbows.”

“Don't have to tell me twice,” Melitta said, “Every time I venture out on my ship, I have to be careful. The High Federation's always watching.”

“Do you like being here?” Aldreia said, “Surely, there must be something that keeps you from flying the coop.”

“Oh, I do,” Melitta said, “I like being around my family. I'm around for my niece. But...”

She shook her head. And when she looked at Aldreia, her eyes were wide and full of dreaming.

“I don't like being in one place for too long. I want to explore. I want to travel. I want my home to be the multiverse, and nowhere else. But… my family needs me, right now. I have to put them first.”

Aldreia nodded at that. Opened her mouth to reply, when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Melitta's brow furrowed.

“I told the old man,” she said, “I didn't want to be disturbed tonight.”

She got up from her seat and went to the entrance, opening the door. The visitor was Kehaulani, her niece's babysitter. Along with a trio that she didn't recognize.

“Kehaulani,” Melitta said, “Everyone else is eating dinner upstairs.”

“I didn't come for Aima,” Kehaulani said, “Rather, I heard that one of the guildfolk visitors was here. These are her guildmates.”

She gestured. One was a professor. One was a man swaddled in old survival gear, his head wrapped in a turban. One was wearing a blue jacket and had electric blue eyes. He smiled easily, though there was anger to it.

“Right,” Melitta said, and she turned her head, “Aldreia, you've got guests.”

The cleric got up. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of her guildmates as she joined Melitta at the door.

“Joseph,” she said, her voice controlled, “Nasir. Evancar. What do you want?”

“G-Good evening, Aldreia,” the professor said.

“What do you want?” Aldreia asked, annoyed.

“We want you to come with us,” Evancar answered, “There's been a bit of an investigation that's come up, and I was hoping for extra muscle.”

Aldreia glared at him.

“No,” she said.

“It'll be a nice trip,” Joseph said, “Trust me, you'll want to be there.”

There was a tone in his voice, one that Melitta didn't recognize. One that Aldreia did, however, as her eyes narrowed.

“Did Becenti put you up to this?” she said, “I'm not looking after Evancar, and so now you're roping me back in?”

“Nothing like that,” Joseph said.

“Then what, then?” Aldreia said, “I'm busy.”

Her guildmate's eyes flickered between her and Melitta. Then widened.

“O-Oh,” he said.

“If you need muscle, then get Iandi,” Aldreia said, and she wheeled on Nasir, “Where is he, anyway?”

“We asked him already,” Nasir, the man in the turban, said, “He didn't want to go. He'd... rather be with his new friends right now.”

“And I want to be with my new friend, right now,” Aldreia all but spat, “Get it?”

“Yeah,” Joseph said, hastily, “I get it.”

Nasir nodded. Shrugged.

“I don't get it,” Evancar said, “You'd rather be with this metahuman, then investigating some old-”

But Joseph was already moving off. As was Nasir, who patted the archaeologist on the back, guiding him away.

Kehaulani gave Melitta a short bow.

“Sorry to disturb you, miss,” she said.

“It's fine,” Melitta said, “Really.”

Then Kehaulani, too, left. Melitta exchanged a look with Aldreia, before the two of them returned to their meal. She tried to start up their conversation again, though it took the cleric a while to open up again. There was a bitter note in her voice. As though the mere presence of her guild had ruined her mood.

***

Let us speak of Aima Dorucanthos. Thirteen years old, she was reaching that age where she was struggling against her father's rules, as all children eventually do. Her grandfather was Nomatrius Dorucanthos, and her father was Jaskaios. Her mother, like her grandmother, had been killed by the High Federation, a cycle that Jaskaios dared to hope would be broken by the time Aima became an adult.

She lived, along with the rest of the Dorucanthos family, at the estate overlooking the lake. She had never liked living here, in truth. The manor was more of a square block, plopped down by metahuman power when the Dorucanthos family had arrived on New Ludaya. It was almost a blight on the landscape, foreign to the rest of the plane. A piece of Fedtek granite, in the middle of nature.

But she knew that her father would hear nothing of her complaints.

“It is safe,” he said, in his concise way, “It is home.”

And the rest of her family, save for perhaps Aunt Melitta, would agree. But Aunt Melitta wasn't there at dinner tonight, so dinner was filled with nothing but talk of business. For all of the children of the Dorucanthos family were involved in the company's affairs.

Like her aunt, Aima ate quickly. To the point that her time at the dinner table while her family talked, an empty plate in front of her, the chorus of boring drawls around her.

Eventually, her grandfather took note of this.

“You're excused, Aima,” he said.

“Father,” Jaskaios said, “Not all of us are done yet.”

“It's fine, Jaskaios,” her grandfather said, “Kids her age should have as much freedom as they can. Go on, Aima, you're free to go. Say hi to your friends for me.”

Her father shook his head. There was a way his ears flickered, like a bothered fox’s, and Aima knew he was annoyed. They often twitched when she was talking back to him. He turned to her.

“You wish to leave?” he said.

Aima swallowed, then gave a curt nod.

“You may go, then,” Jaskaios said, “Be careful. It is getting dark out.”

“I will, father,” Aima said, “Thank you.”

She hated the way that Jaskaios nodded to her. Hated the way that his gaze followed her as she walked out of the room. If he could, he would have followed her, to keep an eye on her. She knew that he would probably arrange for a messenger bird to tail her, wherever she went. It was his way.

(His wife's death had made him an anxious man, when it came to the matter of family.)

She merely went downstairs to her room. The apartment she shared with her father was a bare place, for neither of them really stayed in there for long. There was a couch. A fireplace. A table. A picture of her late mother, Summersong, watched her from across the room. Always warm and smiling, that photo was.

Aima all but glared at it.

She stepped onto the balcony, the warm night air washing over her. By now, the sun was almost completely set, and the sky crawled with New Ludayan stars.

Then, bored, she climbed over the railing. Slid down its side, her fingers catching at the balcony's bottom. As she'd practiced many times before. She shimmied over to the wall, holding onto a few latches in the brickwork, dug her shoes into makeshift footholds. She climbed down to the first floor of the estate, dropping at the last three feet and into the brush of bushes that nestled against the manor.

She pushed her way out of the bushes, picking away a few stray leaves and twigs from her clothes, her hair. Her father had never appreciated her going out at night like this, so she had made it a point to sneak out.

And yet, he knew what she would be doing. She would return home late at night, and he would still be up, reading a book by the fireplace. Their eyes would meet. He would return to reading. She would go into her room, and go to bed.

A dance they had done many times before. They had argued about it when they had first arrived to New Ludaya. But they had just lost Mom, and there was a bitter edge to their words. Her grandfather had told her father to leave her be.

“We all process it differently,” Nomatrius Dorucanthos had said, “Let her have her space. Besides, it is safe on New Ludaya. For us all.”

And so Jaskaios had let her have this nightly freedom. He was strict in everything else save for this.

By the main road leading up to the estate, she could see a group of people. She stopped, watching them, squinting in the torchlight and the ending light of dusk.

“Kehaulani,” she whispered.

She drew closer, and as she did so she picked at a scab on her arm to the point of bleeding, small little red droplets that blobbed on the back of her hand.

And, in doing this, she could use her ability. Wherever her blood was exposed to the open air, she could perform illusions. This one was not so difficult, a mere wall of air, an aura of invisibility, as she drew closer.

She could Kehaulani talk to one of the people. Now she could see that her caretaker, who usually 'looked after' her on the days off from classes (though she usually let Aima do what she wished) was accompanied by three others, and she was approaching the fifth member. He was tall and muscular, with red hair and a red goatee. He smelled of motor oil.

Oh, gods, it was Thunderhead. Hot as hell. The subject of Aima's dreams. All her friends talked about him. The way he almost seemed to shine, even in the moonlight.

She could hear Kehaulani now, as she got closer. So far, none of them seemed to notice her, though one of them, a man in a white, shabby turban, was looking around. Perhaps he was just the suspicious sort.

“...She said no,” Kehaulani was saying.

“Not surprised,” one of her companions, a man with glowing blue eyes, said, “She's on a date.”

“That was a date?” another one, a man with glasses and a bit of a nervous air, said, “O-Oh, dear, I feel quite bad now.”

“Yeah, really dropped the ball there,” the man with the glowing blue eyes said, “It's not a big deal.”

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Thunderhead shrugged.

“If we get into trouble, it might be,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” the man with the blue eyes said, “The plane's safe, right?”

“The settled parts are,” Kehaulani said, “But it's a big place. We still haven't chronicled all of the wildlife out here yet. There could be predators.”

She sounded nervous. She had none of Aima’s grandfather's confidence about this place.

“Trust me,” the man with the blue eyes said, “I'm more than enough for anything out here.”

Thunderhead barked out a laugh.

“I can see why Fractal likes you!” he said, “Cobalt Joe, more than a match for anything.”

Cobalt Joe shook his head, but smiled.

“Yeah,” he said, “Something like that.”

“We should head out, then,” Kehaulani said, “I'm sorry I won't be able to join you.”

“It's quite alright,” the man with the glasses said, “You have a family to look after. It's getting late.”

“Yes,” Kehaulani said, “I'll make my own way home from here. The rest of you should head out and pick up Lunus.”

Lunus. As in Lunus Oculus. Aima hadn't realized that she and Kehaulani knew each other. Her grandfather talked about her quite a bit, especially nowadays.

None of it was good.

“Nonsense,” Thunderhead said, “It’s not even a detour. I’ll get you home.”

The man in the white cloth was looking around again. He had a bit of an accent as he spoke.

“Either way, we should leave,” he said, “We're wasting moonlight.”

They nodded, a few muttered assent.

“I'm sorry for the trouble,” Kehaulani said.

“No trouble at all,” Thunderhead said, “I'll drop you off at your place, pick up Lune on the way over. Be careful. Remember the cover story.”

“Yes,” Kehaulani said.

Aima wanted to creep closer. But couldn't. The man in white was truly looking around now, and there was a way his eyes seemed to land on her for just a millisecond before he continued surveying that made Aima stop. As though he could see her.

As though he was warning her.

Thunderhead took a deep breath, and then began to expand. Flesh became metal. Arms became tires. His eyes turned into the front windshield, his eyelashes into wipers. He was a sports car, blood red like sunrise, and his engine purred low like a lion as the party clambered on in.

In a moment, he was gone, peeling away, dirt flying beneath his wheels as he drove off. Aima cursed.

She should have snuck aboard, somehow.

***

“There was someone out there,” Nasir said.

He was up against the window, Joseph in the middle, Evancar on the other side. Kehaulani was in the passenger's seat. The driver's was empty, though the steering wheel turned of its own accord as Thunderhead took them to Kehaulani's house.

“You think?” Joseph asked.

“I could hear them,” Nasir said, “They were hiding well. Perhaps someone with power of invisibility.”

“I can't think of anyone,” Thunderhead's voice came from the radio, a bit scratched and garbled, “Kehaulani?”

The other metahuman shook her head.

“I know that Luminary has her own little spy network out here,” she said, “To keep an eye on people.”

Joseph's eyes narrowed.

“Really?” he said.

“She's the head of state,” Kehaulani said, “What else would she have? Take it slow around this bend, Thunderhead.”

“I'm good at driving, Kehaulani,” Thunderhead said, “Relax.”

She grimaced.

“Right. Sorry.”

Her hands were steepled together, bone-white from the pressure. And more and more, as Nasir glared out the window, as Thunderhead made for a secret path through the woods, as Kehaulani's breathing became a bit quickened, Joseph realized that they were heading somewhere they truly were not supposed to go.

***

“Ah, Aima,” Memoire said, “Good evening.”

Aima had found the Seat of Rituals and Secrets out on a walk by the lake. It rippled and shimmered now, as a few metahumans were flying over the surface and shining like twin moons. Sisters, both of them, with the power to glow when close to one another. They danced in the air and made the surface as polished glass.

“Good evening, Memoire,” Aima said, giving a bow.

The older metahuman laughed lightly.

“I've told you before, there's no need to be so formal,” she said, “I never did like this. The...”

“Ritual of it all?” Aima asked.

“Yes. Now, don't get me wrong,” Memoire said, as Aima opened her mouth, “There's a difference between the rituals we keep and the rituals of my station. I uphold the former. I detest the latter.”

Aima snorted. She sat down in the grass, watching as, even now after dinner, a few people were playing in the water, splashing and jeering.

“I can relate to that,” she said, “Give it a few years, and I'll bet you my grandfather will want me wearing a tiara.”

“And a crown for him,” Memoire said, and as she chuckled the symbols on her form shook, “I don't believe your grandfather is quite so... forthcoming.”

“He's not the guy who'll rule from the shadows,” Aima said.

“He's not the sort who would rule at all,” Memoire said, “You don't know your grandfather as I do. He is a good soul. Even when he's blustering.”

Aima thought about the first few days after Mom died. The way Nomatrius's voice was so kind, so gentle. Her grandmother had been killed in much the same way, hadn't she?

“Maybe,” she said, at length. The begrudging response of a teenager.

“When the time comes,” Memoire said, “Your grandfather will be a good man.”

She said this so surely. So assured. Aima looked up at her. But Memoire was looking out at the lake, lost in her own thoughts, her own world.

“When the time comes,” Aima said.

How she hated those words.

***

They dropped Kehaulani off at her home, which was just on the edge of the farmlands. Several other buildings surrounded it, homes and apartments all.

“We're lucky we got a house to ourselves,” Kehaulani mentioned, “We'll need to move back into the shared apartments, once Makaio gets old enough.”

“A whole house, dedicated to childbirth?” Evancar said.

“It's a start,” Kehaulani said, “According to the Council, much of the space around here will be dedicated to farmland. I wouldn't be surprised if the entire Worker class gets moved again.”

Indeed, what was a small town was growing, bit by bit, into the beginnings of a city. The way was lit by kerosene lanterns and small bonfires and glowing metahumans. Parents watched from the windows of square brick buildings as Thunderhead pulled in. Children were playing ball on the streets, the ball itself untwisting himself into a boy of around eight. They watched the red hot sports car drive towards the house.

Kehaulani's husband was waiting outside the door. He was a reptilian man, and he gave the group a nod as Thunderhead parked in front of the house. He was holding a baby in his arms, though Joseph couldn't make out the kid's details, for he was completely swaddled in a patterned blanket.

“When we dream again,” Kehaulani whispered, and she stepped out of the car.

“See you around,” Joseph said.

“N-Nice meeting you,” Evancar mumbled.

Kehaulani embraced her husband. The two of them whispered to each other, her husband looking at the car one final time before closing the door.

It was only then that Thunderhead pulled away. He drove on, out of the town.

Nasir cleared his throat as they left the town behind. Towards a distant granary.

“You sure we won't be followed?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Thunderhead said, “We might be. Maybe Mister Meaning. Maybe Gallimena.”

“You're a bit obvious,” Joseph said.

“We're all a bit obvious, Cobalt Joe,” Thunderhead said, “That just comes with the metagene. I think Lunus Oculus paid some people off to look the other way, but we'll need to outpace them. Don't worry-”

If the car could wink, he would.

“I'm fast.”

***

“'When the time comes,'” Aima said, “And for what?”

A massive man was lumbering into the water now. He was chortling as a metahuman with control over waves carried him further from shore. He was pushing against the metahuman's power, taking step after titanic step. A gaggle of teenagers were laughing at his effort, before the man caught up to the metahuman and pushed his head beneath the surface.

(But only for a split second, for Iandi was always careful not to go too far, as Nasir had told him.)

“The Federation will find us,” Memoire said. A rehearsed line. Aima snorted.

“Of course they'll find us,” she said, “We're in their backyard.”

Memoire did not answer this. She instead stared out at the water.

(With guilt.)

“I just don't like it,” Aima said, continuing, “I don't want the Federation to come. I don't want...”

Mom flashed in her mind. Summersong's smile.

Summersong's empty eyes, a hole burned in her chest.

“I don't want it to happen all over again,” Aima said, “I don't.”

“There is no choice,” Memoire said, her voice tight, “They hate us. They will never stop until we are all exterminated.”

“Why?” Aima said, “Why us, and not anyone else? Why not, I don't know, elves. Or baselines.”

Memoire sighed.

“Because hate is irrational,” she said, “Though, to structure the illogical…”

She paused. Thought.

“We represent the multiverse.”

“Everyone does,” Aima replied, “We're nothing special.”

“To them, we do,” Memoire stated, “And they hate the multiverse. They can't understand it. They'd rather it not exist at all.”

And now Memoire was pulling her knees to her chest.

“But you are right,” she said, “In the grand scheme of things, we are nothing special. Nor should we be.”

***

Lunus Oculus was waiting near the long, metal tower that was the granary. She climbed into the car, turning around and flashing Joseph a brilliant smile, her crimson eyes shining in the darkness.

“Cobalt Joe, now, yes?” she said, “You chose a name.”

Joseph shook her hand.

“Trying it out,” he said, “Giving it a test run.”

“I like it,” Lunus Oculus said, “I'm sorry that we're roping you into all this.”

Joseph shrugged.

“It's fine,” he said, “I'm just happy to see you again.”

Thunderhead went off again. Pulled into the dark. By now the moon was fully overhead, the sun having gone to rest. The only lights came from the sports car's high beams.

“Is there a road?” Evancar asked.

“'Fraid not,” Thunderhead said, “It's going to get bumpy.”

“Quite alright,” Evancar said. The nervous energy that was coiled up inside him was starting to dissipate. He was going into work mode, and he looked out the window at the night with a smile on his face.

Soon he would be in his element.

“So,” Lunus Oculus said, “What happened to you after St. Malendia's?”

“A lot,” Joseph said, “I decided to stick around the guild.”

Lunus Oculus nodded.

“Good choice,” she said, “You have your people there. I could tell with your friend, the Deep One.”

“Phineas,” Joseph said, “He's a good egg.”

“Ha!” Lunus Oculus said, “A good egg. Indeed, Cobalt Joe. Indeed.”

Thunderhead drove on.

***

It was not long before Thunderhead spoke up again. They were driving parallel to the forest, curving around its edge, hugging the line between grassplain and woodlands. The ride, as the sports car had promised, was jittery. Joseph found himself getting bounced to and fro.

“Yeah, Lunus,” Thunderhead said, “Gallimena's following us.”

“I see her,” Nasir said.

Joseph's soul overtook his head, and he looked out the window with sharpened vision. Indeed, Gallimena was keeping pace with them, on the grass plains, a shock of white on the pitch-black horizon line. She wasn't getting closer.

Nor was she getting further.

“She's hemming us in,” Joseph said, “Keeping us pinned against the forest.”

“She's smart,” Thunderhead murmured, “Forest's too crowded for me to drive safely.”

“Maybe transform into a helicopter?” Lunus Oculus said.

“That'd look too suspicious,” Thunderhead said, “That'd look like I'm trying to get away.”

“You already are,” Nasir muttered, “What happens when we stop?”

“She comes forward. Asks her questions,” Lunus Oculus's voice was tight with apprehension, “Then she ‘orders’ us to go home, on authority of the Seat of War.”

“There isn't a war, though,” Joseph said.

“That doesn't matter,” Lunus Oculus said, “The Seat of War calls the shots, in matters pertaining to secrets of the state.”

“'Secrets of the state'?” Joseph asked.

Crimson eyes flickered to Cobalt Joe, then back outside.

“They are ruins in the promised land,” Lunus Oculus said, “Something that isn't supposed to be.”

“I could transform back,” Thunderhead said, “We cut through the woods.”

“Would she catch us?” Joseph asked.

“Gallimena's fast. But I know a few spells,” Lunus Oculus said.

“We could cripple her,” Nasir noted, “Break her legs. Perhaps her back.”

Lunus Oculus fixed him with a slightly horrified look. The tracker shrugged.

“It's an option,” he said.

“I'll weave a spell,” Lunus Oculus said, “I've used it against her before, and she hasn't realized it yet. Thunderhead, get as deep into the forest as you can.”

“On it,” Thunderhead swerved, wheels going over dirt and upraised roots. His four passengers jostled and jumped as he struggled into the forest. Branches lashed against the windows. At one point, a wheel got stuck, and he had to hit the gas to power through. Nasir looked out the back window, his eyes glittering in the darkness.

“Better cast your spell,” he said, “She's coming.”

Lunus Oculus was chanting under her breath, quickened, melodious words in a language that Joseph only half-knew. She glanced up.

“Thunderhead, transform,” she said.

The car doors opened. The four of them jumped out of the car as it twisted and pretzeled back into a human shape. Thunderhead hunkered down behind a tree, sidling up beside Joseph. Evancar and Nasir were opposite them. Lunus Oculus was in the spot where Thunderhead had stopped, kneeling and finishing her spell.

“Ehrenfaixen drapose,” she hissed.

The air took on a cold gale.

Gallimena ran right beside her, so close that feathers brushed against Lunus Oculus's cheek. But the spell worked. Gallimena blew past her, sprinting out into the wood. She looked one way, then another, beady eyes searching for her quarry. Lunus Oculus had played this game with Luminary's hunter before.

Yet she still held her breath. Her heart still thudded in her chest. Joseph and the others hunkered down. Nasir prepared his hunting knife, slowly drawing it from its leather sheath.

Then, Gallimena moved off. Out of the forest. Back onto the grass plains. Without another word the metahuman loped off, perhaps to return to Luminary. Perhaps to watch the road again, to wait for Thunderhead's return.

For Lunus Oculus's party had never gone out so far, at least as far as Luminary's agents knew.

“You're good to come out now,” Lunus Oculus said.

They pulled themselves up. Lunus Oculus's eyes found the knife in Nasir's hand, and she squinted in disapproval as Nasir held it still, listening, his head turning like an owl's.

“What now?” Joseph asked.

“For now, we go on foot,” Lunus Oculus said, “Eventually, Thunderhead will be able to transform again, and carry us.”

“That's me,” her friend muttered, “Thunderhead, the living wagon.”

“Sports car,” Lunus Oculus smirked, “Again, thank you for doing this.”

Thunderhead shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “Just buy me a drink when we're done. The good stuff.”

“Only the best,” Lunus Oculus said, and she jerked her head, “Now come on.”

***

“Tell me,” Memoire said, “What do you want to do with your life, Aima?”

The question came after a silence, of the two of them just staring out at the stars. Aima shrugged.

“I don't know,” she said, “Maybe explore the multiverse. Be like Aunt Melitta, and ship cargo. That would be fun. I could be in the family business, but get to go out a lot.”

“My father was a cargo hauler,” Memoire said, “I have several memories in here-”

She tapped the side of her head.

“-Of his long days on the Ka'ishi Belt. It is not a glamorous life. But you do see many sights.”

“What happened to him?” Aima asked.

“He... died of a stroke,” Memoire said, her voice soft, “It was many years ago.”

“Oh,” Aima said, “I'm sorry.”

“It is fine,” Memoire replied, “Everyone has to die, at some point.”

She faltered.

“But,” the Seat of Rituals said, “We were talking about you. Tell me, what do you want to do?”

“A cargo hauler,” Aima said, “Or a businesswoman. Or a Far Traveler. I've heard stories of one of them, the legendary Fēngbào. Gods, the things she must have seen.”

Her eyes became dreamy.

“I think,” she said, “Out of everything, I want to get out there. I want to be in the multiverse. I want to see everything. I...”

The reality of New Ludaya came down on her.

“I don't want war,” she said, “I don't want the time to come. I hope the Federation never finds us. Or maybe they will. If... If they do, I just want them to leave us alone.”

“Yes,” Memoire said, “We can only hope. And pray.”

The conversation quieted down. Eventually, Aima knew that she was staying out too late. That even her grandfather's patience had limits, that her leash only drew so long. So she bade her goodbye to Memoire, and went on her way.

Memoire stayed alone at the beach. Even as everyone went home. Went to sleep.

(As five people, two metahumans and three outlanders, half-knowingly walked and sneaked and drove across New Ludaya, to the place of her greatest guilt.)

God, she could hardly stand it. Her chest felt about to burst. She could hear the hope in Aima Dorucanthos's voice. The quiet pleading. The innocence, despite everything that had happened to her.

And Memoire could feel nothing but that she had betrayed her young friend. Even in silence, she deceived her.

Memoire bit back tears. Her entire form rippled.

But the Seat of Secrets rose. And she too, walked home. And felt ten thousand eyes staring down at her.

But they were just the stars.