They did not sleep on the way over.

Aldreia. Joe. Becenti. And Iandi, who they had to roll out of bed with threats that they would tell Nasir that he wasn't listening to them if he didn't get up. He was almost tearful, which made Joe feel bad.

But what made him feel worse was the look on Becenti's face. Ghastly. Emptied of the mirth he had enjoyed for the last few days after being here on New Ludaya. They walked out of Mt. Redress, waving to the guards at the front, avoiding their askance looks.

Someone was flying overhead. Joe looked up to see it was Fractal, fully in her gravity-controlling form, a blip of orange against the night sky. She was watching them, he realized, as they stole off the path and into the forest, towards the Worker's main town.

“How many Warriors are out?” Joe asked.

“Only a few,” Becenti said, “Luminary was keeping the fact that you disappeared with Lunus Oculus quiet.”

He glanced up at Fractal.

“No doubt word's gotten back to her,” the older metahuman continued, “About what happened at Amoeboy's ranch. I wouldn't be surprised if they're sending a contingent of Warriors there, now.”

“Then we've been made,” Joe said.

“Going to happen!” Iandi cried out.

Joe nearly jumped, shot a glare at the Mark Eta. Iandi shrugged.

“Going to happen,” he repeated, a bit quieter this time.

“He's right,” Becenti said, “You were very lucky, Cobalt Joe. Luminary wasn't using her full resources here. Now that more and more people are finding out, however, she'll use those loyal to the Council as her agents. Expect more versatility.”

“Should we expect violence?” Aldreia asked, and her fingers danced briefly with flame.

Becenti grimaced. He had regained control of himself. Pushed his grief down, but he still looked weak, still there was pain in his eyes.

“Perhaps,” he said, “Especially against the Oshya:de.”

Fractal wasn't trying anything. She was merely watching.

Joe hoped that was all she would do.

***

There was commotion in the Worker communes, particularly in the primary settlement. Fractal could see this as she drifted like a rogue meteor over the forests of New Ludaya. It was late at night, but a crowd was forming around a sandstone tower that rose in the Architects' Clearing. People were talking.

Fractal wasn't sure why. She had only been told to monitor Cobalt Joe, who had been spotted heading into Mt. Redress.

“Why Joe?” Fractal had asked Riah Truegale. The older metahuman had woken her up in the barracks late at night for her assignment.

Riah Truegale had shrugged.

“I'm not sure,” he said, “I believe he and a few of his guildmates disappeared recently with a few of the malcontents. He's just gotten back.”

“I can talk to him, perhaps,” Fractal said, “See why he decided to head out.”

“No,” Riah Truegale said, “This order comes directly from the Shadow of the Giant. Do not interact, unless he becomes hostile or aggressive to other New Ludayans. Only observe.”

Fractal nodded.

And thus she was here, watching as Cobalt Joe and his guildmates made their way to the sandstone tower. They pushed their way through the crowd, which was only growing.

Fractal kept watching. What had gotten people so agitated?

“Fractal,” a voice rang in her mind. Tele-phone, a metahuman Warrior with psychic abilities, “Report?”

“Yeah, it's a crowd,” Fractal said, “They aren't doing anything except whispering to each other. They're gathered around that sandstone tower.”

“...Tallneck's library,” Tele-phone said, “Alright. Keep an eye out.”

“Right,” Fractal said, “Will do.”

***

Myron Becenti was not the sort of man that Lunus Oculus had expected.

She had expected a war hero, the way that she had heard about him from Luminary's old speeches and writings. A man in spandex and red streamers. Yes, she had remembered seeing images of him. This man, who had fought with the High Federation against the Manticore during the war.

Yet the man in front of her, who now stood at the table with Cobalt Joe's guildmates, was different. He was around Joe's height and wore a three piece suit, even this late at night. His hair was tied back in a strict ponytail, and he carried himself as though a board were taped to his back.

Above all, however, there was a look in his eyes. Something sad there. Emptied out. No doubt he had taken the news about the Oshya:de poorly. His gaze kept flickering to Tekahentakwa and Rohahes, as though in disbelief they were there at all.

“Tekahentakwa,” Cobalt Joe said, “This is Becenti. He's the second-in-command of my guild.”

The Clan Mother nodded at him.

“Second-in-command?” she asked.

“Yes,” Becenti said, “I am not guildmaster, but I do many organizational duties of the guild, such as finalizing paperwork, putting together teams for the jobs we do, as well as go over contracts we have with clients.”

“These words mean little to me,” Tekahentakwa said, “But you are a leader.”

Becenti nodded.

“I am.”

“And these two others who came with Cobalt Joe, they are also of this... guild?” Tekahentakwa said.

“Yes,” Becenti said, “Aldreia Firedawn and Iandi.”

“Hello!” Iandi said, and he broke into a smile, “I like your hair.”

Tekahentakwa blinked.

“Thank you,” she said, and she absently tugged a braid, “Are you metahuman?”

“No, no, I am not,” Iandi said, “I am Mark Eta! That's what everyone tells me.”

“...A super soldier,” Becenti said, “From Zult.”

When Tekahentakwa looked at him again, the metahuman continued.

“Another plane of existence. Like this one. We're all from different planes.”

“I see,” Tekahentakwa said, “So many people now, in this land.”

“Indeed,” Becenti said.

They lapsed into a silence. Lunus Oculus was sitting at the table, looking from guild to native, native to guild. They both were similar in skin tone. In hair color. In other time, perhaps if Becenti were not a Child of Imagination, he might have blended in with the Oshya:de.

“Alright,” Becenti said, “Joe... he told me everything. I...”

He sighed.

“I don't know what to say,” he said.

“Are you coming here to personally apologize?” Tekahentakwa said, “Is that all?”

Becenti was quiet.

Tekahentakwa looked past him.

“Cobalt Joe,” she said, “Why did you bring this man here?”

“He wanted to see you,” Joe said, and his voice was apprehensive.

“For what reason?” Tekahentakwa asked.

“To see if you were real,” Becenti said.

The Clan Mother glared at him. Becenti shrugged.

“It is... the truth,” he said, “You have heard it from others. Your existence here puts the idea of New Ludaya into jeopardy.”

“Then perhaps it was not a good idea,” Tekahentakwa said.

“...Perhaps,” Becenti said.

“I have been told by others,” Tekahentakwa said, “About what is like for your people in your multiverse. That you are scourged. Hunted for sport. Sent into camps. Your bodies are put on display, or cut up to be used in jewelry.”

“That is correct,” Becenti said.

“And yet,” Tekahentakwa said, “You claim to find paradise here?”

“I don't know why she did it,” Becenti said.

“The woman in white.”

“Luminary,” Becenti said, “Yes.”

“...I have been wondering that as well,” Tallneck said. Becenti glanced up at him.

“Professor Tallneck, wasn't it?”

“Yes,” Tallneck said, “We had a... riveting discussion, shall we say.”

Becenti nodded.

“Well?” he said, “What is your hypothesis?”

Tallneck dipped his neck down, so he was level to the table.

“It's simple,” he said, “I do believe that New Ludaya being solely on this plane is temporary.”

Becenti's brow furrowed.

“Explain,” he said.

“If one was to build paradise, why do it in the High Federation's backyard?” Tallneck said.

“We've had this discussion,” Eksonis growled, “It's the last place the Federation would find us.”

“Is it?” Tallneck said, “There are known metahuman communes that exist in the far reaches of the multiverse, uncontacted planes that are out of forecast for thousands of years-”

(Cobalt Joe shivered at this.)

“-And where communities can build. Many of these planes are, specifically, not already inhabited by sapient populations.”

“Sapient?” Tekahentakwa asked.

“...Of a mind,” Tallneck said, “Thinking creatures.”

“All creatures think,” Tekahentakwa said, “I ask you, what is done to the other animals of the land?”

Tallneck pulled a face.

“Depends… Well, it depends on the community,” he said.

“Getting past that point,” Lunus Oculus said, “Tallneck, finish what you're saying.”

“Right,” Tallneck said, “I say this: why this plane, specifically? Why a plane with a Traveling Point directly to the Silver Eye, with one to an old Darwinist holdout, with an already established indigenous population?”

Becenti was quiet at this.

(He almost thought that he could not break anymore.)

“I have to talk to Luminary,” he said. And he rose.

But Cobalt Joe stopped him.

“Wait,” the younger metahuman said, “Myron, slow down.”

Becenti spun on him. His eyes became bloodshot and angry. He seemed to be about to start yelling.

(Yes, here is the Becenti I read about, was Lunus's thought.)

But then he simmered.

“If we reveal that we know everything, Luminary might try and do something drastic to silence us,” Joe said, “Wait until the truth comes out.”

“And will the truth come out?” Becenti asked, and he looked over at Lunus Oculus. She was younger than he expected, perhaps a few years older than Cobalt Joe himself. Her eyes were purple, though Joe had told him that they changed with the phases of the moon, which on New Ludaya were more subtle and slower than on other planes.

“It will,” Lunus Oculus said, “The Oshya:de will not wait long. They are free from the caves. They want their home back.”

“It's more complicated than that,” Eksonis said, “You know this. There are innocent people here-”

“How innocent will they be, when they learn they live on stolen land?” Tekahentakwa asked.

Becenti suppressed a wince. He had heard of these arguments before.

“It is precisely why we're telling people now,” Lunus Oculus said, “Glow's getting people together. They're going to tell them in the morning.”

“And then what?” Tekahentakwa asked.

“I don't know,” Lunus Oculus said, “But it's like they said: it's a box that cannot be re-closed.”

There was silence at that statement.

Tense and heavy. For they all knew what the future would bring, and it was not peace.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

***

They went to bed. Or, at least, tried to. A few Workers close to Lunus Oculus were brought into the fold, those with combat-related abilities that, for some reason or another, did not pass the test to become Warriors. Wavemaker was eighteen years old, hardly an adult, for he had only come of age last week. He was accompanied by one of his friends, a girl his age by the name of Uni, who had a single unicorn's horn on her forehead. She was from the Constellations, that endless war torn plane, and thus she carried herself as the soldier she had been raised as since a child. Not a Warrior, true, but with the training of one. Jolly Old Elder was there as well. A metahuman who, in truth, was only in his thirties, but with the experience and age of a man three times as old, for he absorbed ambient knowledge, as well as ambient age, from those around him.

Fourth to join them was Rainbowfish. The sole Warrior in a sea of Workers. One of the Giant Northern Termite Queen's flying termites had braved the journey to him, a signal that there was something up. He had made his way towards the Worker's town, noting the stares, the whispers, the crowd late at night.

He hadn't come alone.

“Pigmalion's watching above,” he said as he walked into the sandstone tower, “I see Fractal up there, too.”

Lunus Oculus helped him take off his jacket, revealing his shimmering, fishscaled arms.

“She followed Joe,” she said.

“Joe?” Rainbowfish asked, and his eyes fell on Cobalt Joe, who was at the entrance as well, leaning against a wall, “Ah. Name’s Rainbowfish.”

“Cobalt Joe.”

They shook hands.

“You don't think they'll try and get you, will they?” he asked.

“...There's a non-zero chance,” Rainbowfish replied, and he looked through a window. Pigmalion was flying on one of his marble constructs, what appeared to be a pegasus hewn from stone.

“They'll already know something's up,” Lunus Oculus said, “We just need you and the others in case things get...”

She bit her lip.

“Violent,” Rainbowfish finished for her.

“I wish it wouldn't come to that,” Lunus Oculus said.

Rainbowfish shook his head.

“What'd we find in the ruins?” he asked, “Better be something big.”

“...Come upstairs, and I'll show you.”

The two of them walked upstairs, leaving Joe alone. He could hear Wavemaker and Uni muttering to themselves down the hall.

“I don't know what to say,” Wavemaker said, “I just...”

“That's the world we're in,” Uni said, “No nation's perfect.”

“Pretty far from perfect, here,” Wavemaker grumbled, “You're taking this well.”

Uni was quiet at that.

(For she was not.)

Joe heard a shout from above. Rainbowfish. He was angry. For a moment, he wanted to go up and check things out, make sure that the Warrior wasn't getting violent. But he heard Thunderhead roar “Calm down, man!” and things simmered.

Aldreia came downstairs. She was smoking, Joe noted. A cigarette, though he did not know where she had gotten it from.

(Melitta's place.)

“He's agreed to help look after the tower overnight,” Aldreia said, “You should get some sleep.”

Indeed. He was feeling exhausted.

“Christ, what time is it?” he asked.

“Four in the morning,” Aldreia said, “Lunus Oculus put a message out to the other Workers. She'll be giving the news to them in the morning. Revealing the Oshya:de then.”

Joe nodded.

“Right,” he said, “I'll get to sleep.”

“Tallneck's got a few spare rooms three floors up,” Aldreia said, “Better than sleeping in that damn mountain, isn't it?”

She offered him a smile. Gone was the venom in her voice. The frustration, a few nights before. Then, whoever she had been spending the night with wasn't here.

Bereft of the usual poison of love, she was perfectly amiable.

He chose to return her smile, and went upstairs. The guest room reminded him of his room at Castle Belenus when he had first joined the guild. Barren but comfortable.

He was asleep in minutes.

***

It was Becenti who could not sleep.

He sat at the table, hands clasped together, his mind a swamp of thought and worry and anger.

Everyone else had gone to bed. Even Joe and Aldreia. Iandi's snores reverberated from downstairs, seeming to shake the floor itself. Only a few other New Ludayans were awake with him, and their job was to guard the tower. Wavemaker, more of a boy than anything, would periodically come upstairs and pace around, shaking out any nervous energy. Uni came over to hand Becenti some coffee. Rainbowfish kept to himself, coming downstairs from his perch on the roof to stretch and get something to eat.

Only one other person joined him at the table, late in the night, as dawn was drifting over the mountains.

Tekahentakwa.

Clan Mother. Becenti had heard of such terms before, at powwows on Prime. Looking at her, he imagined his life before his awakening. Before the metahuman powers and the spandex and the fighting supervillains. Before the war and the dreams and the nightmares. He could hear chants and dances in his ears, the rhythmic pounding of drums and voices, braids and beads bouncing in time to the music. His older brother, before he had taken his own life, had gotten quite into the competitive parts of the Gathering of Nations Powwow. Every morning, he would practice, stamping feet and music played on the old radio his father had, for he didn't have access to actual people and their voices save for perhaps once or twice a month, and even then.

But his brother was gone now.

(Everyone was gone now.)

Tekahentakwa noted Becenti staring at her. She moved, a hair uncomfortable.

“You look lost,” she said, after a time.

“...I am,” Becenti said, and he shifted in his seat, “I can't sleep.”

“Neither can I,” Tekahentakwa said, “To know that I will be forced to justify my existence tomorrow, our existence...”

“It feels insurmountable, at times,” Becenti said, “The frustration. The anger.”

“Yes,” Tekahentakwa said, “You know this.”

“All of my life,” Becenti said, “Even before I became metahuman.”

He sighed, rubbed his face.

“I know what I have to do,” he said, “I just don't want to do it.”

“What?” Tekahentakwa said, “Leave?”

“Reparation is a difficult thing for the colonizer to understand,” Becenti said, “To them, it feels like oppression. But we are metahumans. We are an oppressed people. You think we would know. You think we would understand. You think that... that we wouldn't become like them.”

He said this with such hatred in his voice, such shame, that Tekahentakwa almost flinched.

Becenti looked up at her. Leaned back in his chair.

“Tell me,” he said, “When... When Luminary tried to speak to you, did she try to buy this land?”

“From under our own feet,” Tekahentakwa said, “She showed us many pretty things. Jewels and polished beads. Silver sticks that she claimed were worth a fortune in your multiverse. She even offered other planes to us, places we could move to, so she could take this one.”

“But it was your home,” Becenti said, “So you refused.”

“How could we?” Tekahentakwa said, “It would be like selling our grandmothers.”

Becenti nodded at this.

For he had heard all of this before. He had even spoken almost the same words, when he was begging Olendris Valm to spare Old Ludaya.

“Many metahumans,” Becenti said, “Do not... They aren't aware of what's going on. What will happen to them?”

“That is to be determined,” Tekahentakwa said, “Many of my people believe that they should go. Back to your multiverse.”

“Back to the High Federation,” Becenti said, “Where once more, we would once more have to contend with genocide. With slavery.”

Tekahentakwa studied Becenti's face. The older man sighed.

“We have dealt with such things before, and survived,” Becenti said, “I can see it in your eyes. You do not believe me. What I say is true. You talk to any metahuman here, and they will tell you a story of lost children. Parents. Siblings. Grandfathers and grandmothers.”

“And I do care for this,” Tekahentakwa said, “I see it in your eyes. In the eyes of many people here. I saw it in the woman in white's eyes, too. You have survived desolation. But that does not make this right.”

She gestured to the room. To the world.

“You know that I must look after my own people,” she said.

And, despite the truth in her words, Becenti grimaced. He knew she was right. That for all of his people's agonies, all of their suffering, that they could not become like their oppressors. They could not turn around and repeat the same sins.

“We are not like them,” he whispered, more to himself than anything.

“Myron Becenti,” Tekahentakwa said, and she kneeled down, rifling through her bag. Becenti recognized what she pulled out. The beginnings of a wampum, “You say you are guild, yes? You have contracts.”

“In paper, not in bead,” Becenti replied.

“Then this will not suffice?” Tekahentakwa asked.

“...It depends on what you are requesting,” Becenti said.

“The coming days will be dangerous,” the Clan Mother said, “For myself. For my people. I believe that many metahumans here will see the truth. That they have become something they are not. But there are those who will join with Luminary.”

Becenti was quiet.

“They will attempt to attack us,” Tekahentakwa said, “They have done so before. We require more than just our own warriors.”

“...And the Amber Foundation will protect you,” Becenti said.

“A guild contract,” Tekahentakwa said, “You and yours will protect us. At least we will have a few allies from the multiverse. Even if we must pay.”

The sun was starting to rise. Becenti stood up. Paced around the room. It was almost time for the news.

“Please, Myron Becenti,” Tekahentakwa said, “Despite everything, we have few allies. The truth is not enough to save my people.”

“I know,” Becenti whispered.

And Tekahentakwa started to get flustered. For even speaking like this, all but begging to him, these justifications, were bringing back dark memories to her mind.

“Please,” she pleaded, and she was on the verge of tears, “I'm only trying to do what any mother does. I'm just... I'm trying to create a world for my children.”

At this, Becenti's eyes widened.

And he knew the path he would have to take.

“Alright,” he said, and he turned, “I will help you. Let's write up a contract. Get some beads. Start sewing.”

He took a shaking breath.

“And we'll see what tomorrow brings.”

***

Tomorrow brought the news.

Lunus Oculus stepped out to the crowd of Workers with the rising sun. Those metahumans who had decided to go home for the night, on the promise of the news, came out to see here. At first, there were only dozens. Curiosity over anything else was what brought them here, for news of Lunus Oculus and the group's arrival in the middle of the night, after apparently having gone AWOL, had spread through the town like wildfire.

Dozens became hundreds upon the appearance of Tekahentakwa. At her story. The young Clan Mother's voice rang through the crowd as she told her story. Again and again.

A constant justification to her existence.

Some of New Ludaya was apathetic. They returned to their work, and though there was some level of guilt, some measure of shame, they continued to plow on. For New Ludaya was their paradise.

And all nations required monstrosities to exist.

Others were horrified. Screams came from the town. The wretched were these. People who had survived genocide. Survived glassings. Survived the worst the High Federation, and others, ever had to offer. To see their nation do the same, to live on the legacy of such atrocity...

There were tears indeed, as paradise became hollow.

Still more were outraged. Vengeful. Against the High Federation. Against New Ludaya, whom in their eyes had become no better. These were already contacts to Lunus Oculus, who already had an idea of what the nation had done.

For all nations required monstrosities to exist.

...And news, from them, leaked to the Warriors. And action began there as well.

Through it all, Becenti stood with Cobalt Joe by Tekahentakwa's side. As did Rohahes, who stood closer and closer to Tekahentakwa during the initial proceedings.

And then, as news filtered through New Ludaya, as more people came to see if what was being said was true...

A messenger appeared.

Mister Meaning. Still holding an ice pack to the back of his head. Riding atop Gallimena, that raptor in the coat of a hen. She transformed back into her humanoid form as they arrived to the sandstone tower. Prehistoric wheeled about in the sky as a quetzalcoatlus, flying along Pigmalion and the still-floating Fractal.

(The last of whom Cobalt Joe watched with reservation. Given the chance, she could flatten all of the Workers with a flick of the finger.)

Tekahentakwa was inside the tower. She peered through a window at the arrival of the pair. Becenti, too, looked down at them, his eyes narrowing.

They had known.

Rainbowfish and Uni were outside, guarding the door. Though they were not alone, for many Workers who had learned the truth, and decided to do something about it, had set up camp in the clearing around the tower.

Mister Meaning cleared his throat.

“Rainbowfish,” he said.

The Warrior nodded, his arms crossed.

“What the hell do you want?” he asked.

“That's all you can say to me?” Mister Meaning asked, “My, my, Rainbowfish, I-”

“Cut the bullshit,” Rainbowfish said, “Speak your piece. Then get out.”

Mister Meaning opened his mouth, but then stopped, noting now that Workers were staring at him. He suppressed a shiver.

This was no situation to be flippant.

“Alright,” he said, “No games, then. We've heard the word. That some of these... 'Oshya:de,' are around. The Council wants to meet with them.”

“To do what, Meaning?” Rainbowfish asked.

“Negotiations, my good man,” Mister Meaning said, “Tell me, how many Oshya:de are there?”

“Not for me to tell,” Rainbowfish said. He looked at Mister Meaning and Gallimena. At the Warriors high above, “I'll let her know you dropped by.”

“Luminary herself wants to meet the Clan Mother,” Mister Meaning said, “She insists on it.”

Rainbowfish hesitated. Then looked to Uni.

“Go inside,” he said, “Tell the Clan Mother what they want.”

The horned metahuman nodded. Went inside. The tower was a flurry of motion and movement, of metahumans going up and down the stairs to meet with Tekahentakwa. The Clan Mother was at one of the tables on the fifth floor, talking to Lunus Oculus and Amoeboy, who had arrived a few hours before by Flying Carpet.

“Aye, they're on their way to the farm,” Amoeboy said, “A big stream o' folks.”

“Will there be food there?” Tekahentakwa asked.

“Well, they'll probably eat up our stockpile,” Amoeboy said, scratching his cheek, “But after that, it just depends on how much we can get from the other granaries. Might even be able to get some from Mt. Redress.”

Tekahentakwa nodded at this. Looked up at Uni.

“What do they want?” Tekahentakwa asked.

“Luminary wants to meet with you,” Uni replied, “They're waiting for an answer.”

The Clan Mother took a deep, steadying breath. To meet her people's butcher was no easy thing. Her hands shook as she smoothed over her dress.

“Right,” she said, “I thought this would come.”

Becenti crossed his arms.

“She won't hurt you,” he said.

“Are you so sure?” Tekahentakwa asked, “She has before.”

“She had the advantage then,” Becenti said, “Secrecy hides the greatest of shame. Now that people know, she will be careful.”

“So she will not hurt me in public, then,” Tekahentakwa said.

The old man grimaced.

“...Correct,” he said, “We will not leave your side. Joe or Aldreia will be with you at all times.”

“And what of you, Myron Becenti?” Tekahentakwa said.

Becenti was quiet for a moment.

“I have some of my own business to attend to,” he said, “They are for protecting the Oshya:de, of course. But you must allow me to make actions of my own. Luminary and I, we have unfinished business.”

“Of course,” Tekahentakwa said. She turned to Uni, “I will not meet with Mister Meaning outside. I remember him from before, and he is a serpent.”

“Mood,” Uni said.

“I will,” Tekahentakwa said, “Consider meeting with Luminary. But for now, I must attend to my people and their needs.”

“She's gonna want to talk at some point,” Amoeboy said, “Bad PR to not.”

“And,” Lunus Oculus said, “I worry that the longer we wait, the more she'll see more extreme methods as... tempting.”

Tekahentakwa looked at each of them.

“Immediate needs, first,” she said, “Amoeboy, will you take me back to your farm?”

“Aye,” Amoeboy said, “I'll get Flying Carpet to take you.”

“We'd better get you a retinue,” Becenti said, “Flying metahumans loyal to Luminary might try something drastic.”

Rohahes grimaced.

“Thunderhead, then,” Tekahentakwa said, at once, “Flying Carpet can carry Aldreia Firedawn. Cobalt Joe will join myself and Rohahes.”

“There are a few other winged metahumans we can ask for help, too,” Lunus Oculus said.

“You think they'll be able to help?” Becenti asked, “People are still recovering from the news.”

“I'll ask around,” Lunus Oculus said, “Reach out to a few people who I know who already were chafing.”

Tekahentakwa rose.

“Very well,” she said, “We should be off, then.”

***

It was by some miracle, Meaning supposed, that the Workers outside did not immediately tear his and Gallimena's heads off.

Perhaps it was the three Warriors flying overhead. Perhaps it was the shock of the news still making people reel. The only response to the pair's arrival, and subsequent departure, were stares. Whispers and stares. But they both were used to that, for such things are the common companions to metahumans in the multiverse.

“Well,” Mister Meaning said, “This isn't good.”

Gallimena was quiet.

Mister Meaning glanced down at her.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She had not yet transformed. It occurred to Mister Meaning just how young Gallimena was. Hardly in her twenties. She snorted derisively, looking away from him. Towards the Architects' Clearing. Those metahumans who had chosen to aid the Oshya:de were there. Dozens of them, though that number would grow.

“Gallimena,” Mister Meaning said, “I know what you must be feeling. Something akin to guilt, hmm?”

She shot him a glare.

“You were there,” Mister Meaning leaned down, “You chose not to have your memories stolen from that time.”

“Weren't their choice,” Gallimena tersed, “The others. Weren't their choice at all.”

“But it was for you,” Mister Meaning said, “Luminary offered that to you. Now, I know you must be feeling rather poor about the situation. But you cannot turn coat now, can you?”

Gallimena did not answer. Did not even glare at him, as she usually did. Mister Meaning stood back up, thin as a needle, tall as a tower.

“Now,” he said, “We have the news to report back to our great Founder. This all will pass in time, Gallimena. We've made our beds. We'll lie in them, and luxuriously so. Come along, now, and carry me to the mountain.”

He smirked at her. Gallimena shot a mutinous look at the other metahuman now, a return to form, for she disliked Mister Meaning immensely. But she did as she was told. Molted back into a raptor, allowed Mister Meaning to climb onto her back, and they made for Mt. Redress once more.