The parade carried on through the open conduit, awesome in its mass and efficiency. Tameka watched from her vantage point on a mountain peak. A short woman of color from earth stuck out in a crowd of sun-bleached giants lacking melanin.

It had been seven days since Umbra’s Spire. Each of the last three days, Tameka climbed up this mountain and fantasized various scenarios of smuggling herself through the Seam. So far, none proved feasible.

Only two miles from the conduit, Nox’s castle stood sentinel to the migration. They must keep Rayne in there. Conduit-adjacent and fortified, it was the most sensible way to keep the invasion active and prevent a rescue attempt.

There’d been no contact from Tameka’s friends since the attack, and she assumed the worst.

Kyle dead.

Sagan and Rayne held captive by the Icarean masters.

And after the first twenty-four hours with no word from Xelan—

Tameka allowed herself only fifteen minutes a day to think about him. It wasn’t enough time, but it was more than she could spare. With her life likely prolonged by the nacre, she expected to mourn Xelan for the rest of it. She closed her eyes, the memory as vivid as it was invasive.

Xelan shifted into Atramentous with his beautiful midnight eyes and his majestic wings. When he shouted for them to get out, Tameka wanted none of it. His posture expressed a stern resolve. His manner betrayed his fear. Antithesis to his nature, resorting to wild desperation terrified Tameka. If he was about to do something stupid, she wanted to stand by his side and hold his hand through it. She took a step toward him.

For a brief moment, anguish twisted Xelan’s face, and sorrow softened his eyes. He gave a gentle shake of his head and glanced over. Tameka followed his gaze. Kyle and Sagan lugged a groaning, fainting Rayne over the window’s ledge. Their leader’s eyes were unfocused, yet she still tried to maintain a visual on the man who’d trained them and raised them to be strong.

When Tameka turned back, Xelan emanated a bright light. Beyond him, the garrison remained solid while Korac and Nox unfurled their wings to escape.

So soft and so kind. Xelan’s eyes asked so much of Tameka. ‘Be strong. Protect the family. Don’t worry, just go.’ She understood what he wanted. It meant scooping out her heart and leaving it there in that turret.

As a whistle pierced the air and the surrounding static increased, a tear escaped and fell on Tameka’s cheek. She mouthed her last word to him, “Later.”

Xelan rewarded her with a ghost of her favorite grin. Then he turned away.

Tameka opened her eyes to the oppressing sight and allowed herself a brief, selfish moment of despair. “Later” had promised a lifetime for them. A lifetime they would never share.

Unable to hold herself together another minute, Tameka doubled over and sobbed on a scalding inhale. As she released it on a broken cry, her arms cradled her abdomen as if that alone contained her insides. The tears, hot and salty, burned her cheeks. The usual flood of moments they’d shared and the ones that ‘should have been but never would be’ assaulted her tender heart.

With her voice fractured, Tameka yelled at the mountain, “I should have said it more. I should have told you every chance I got. ‘Not the right time’ be damned. No more ‘later.’ Right now. I love you—”

A female voice from behind interrupted Tameka’s grief. “All the Progeny love their maker. He was a good man, and he will be missed.”

This was the seventh day in Celindria’s company, and Tameka wanted to kill her.

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The first Progeny had found Tameka in a cave deep behind Umbra’s castle twelve hours after the jump. Hungry, wet, and alone, Tameka had accepted the older woman’s help with cautious gratitude. The haunted look on Xelan’s face at Celindria’s appearance in the tower had never left Tameka.

Any attempts to surmise information from Celindria fell flat. The first day, Tameka had asked, “What were you doing there?”

Out of hand, Celindria answered, “I wanted to share my accomplishments in father’s name: the Vittle, the nacre bond…”

Tameka had pressed, “But how did you know we were even there?”

“Happenstance, inheritor. I searched the tower every day since I sent my missive to your leader.”

Every sentence was a well-constructed half-truth. Tameka desired nothing more than to throat punch Celindria just once, but the woman’s semi-altruistic nature reminded her of Xelan.

Celindria had converted an entire continent’s worth of Icari from Nox’s blood-bond to her liege. Relieved of Nox’s tyrannical rule, the Icarean people demonstrated a love of culture, history, and cuisine. They educated their children on the multiple Icarean Verses, but also on every subject known and related to Enki. Their long life span had provided them with an inspiring perspective of communal accomplishment and aspiration.

There was no caste system here. Every member was equally intelligent and gifted. Like Elden, Celindria sacrificed shards of her nacre to manage it. It was a little overkill if blood transfusion worked just as well, but martyrs gotta mart.

And the Vittle crops.

Xelan and Tameka had spent several nights snuggled in their love nest as he described all his research to reclaim that plant to save his people from their appetites. She’d cherished his devotion to his race.

Celindria had succeeded. Fields and fields of Vittle surrounded her conglomerate city. They required regular hydro-treatments of Earth’s water, stored in massive silos amongst the fields. How had Celindria managed that? She’d answered with more half-truths, but it worked. She’d accomplished many grand feats.

Even given that, Tameka would still break the other woman’s jaw for interrupting her scant fifteen minutes of mourning. “I came here to be alone.”

The woman stepped closer to Tameka’s back. “Yes. You come up here everyday around this time.” So Celindria knew she was intruding. Then this ass-kicking was deserved.

Before Tameka turned around to cuss her out, a foreign blip sounded from behind. The scene of the migration whirled into a traveling circus, and Tameka cradled her head with a groan. So dizzy. Her stomach flopped end over end, and her knees knocked together ready to buckle.

Celindria’s hand gripped Tameka’s shoulder as she asked, “Are you ill? Is the baby making you sick? How may I help?”

Baby?!

Tameka sobbed and tried to shirk the woman off. The feel of her hand was an unwelcome, malicious weight. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Tameka spun and gripped Celindria by the throat. At first, the woman offered Tameka a patronizing smile. In seconds, the smile withered and melted into wide, angry eyes and bared fangs.

“Merit… possessed… no gifts.” The older woman’s voice squeezed tight with strain.

“I’m not Merit, bitch.” Tameka opened herself up to a power she’d hesitated to use until now.

“Tameka, you’re made of power.”

The pride, the encouragement, and the love in Xelan’s words—a voice never to speak again. On a strangled cry, Tameka willed the empty well inside herself to fill.

The other woman faltered, and whatever had afflicted Tameka dissipated. She grew more lucid, more firm in her grip. She held herself straight and tall. With an unfamiliar tug on her shoulder blades and a recurring pressure in her lower abdomen, a miraculous wonder occurred. Beautiful black wings unfolded from her back. Just like Xelan’s.

While Celindria’s deep skin drained of color, she collapsed to her knees.

A swirl of electricity crackled apart somewhere behind Tameka.

“I’m so glad I finally found you!”

The alleviating sound of Sagan’s voice broke Tameka’s concentration. She loosened her hold on the other woman just enough to open an opportunity for Celindria. She knocked away the hand at her throat and kicked up at Tameka. The younger woman dodged it, but not with any semblance of grace. The new wings required training.

Tameka stumbled into Sagan. Both girls recovered; unfortunately, not before Celindria had disappeared.

As if realizing she’d stepped into some kind of altercation, Sagan cried, “Was that Celindria?”

“It was.” Tameka turned and looked Sagan over. She was wearing baggy layers the same as Tameka. They both could use a proper shower and a girl day.

Tameka winced.

Rayne.

Survive now. Save her later.

Tameka said, “I’m so happy you’re all right!”

Seven days. For seven days Tameka had needed a hug and lived without one. Without preamble, Sagan enveloped her in a nacre-strong embrace. “I was so worried about you. It’s taken so much to find you.”

“Is the baby making you sick?”

Don’t think about it.

Although it was too soon to end the hug, Tameka pulled away to see the other girl’s face. She needed to know for sure. “Rayne? Kyle?”

A shadow cast over the blond girl’s pale complexion, and her lips tightened into a grim line. “I have so much to tell you.”

Tameka nodded. “But not here. We’re not safe.”

“If you’re willing to be patient with me, I think I can get us back to Earth.”

Tameka peered out at the gaping conduit with its endless caravan of pilgrims. “Good. But let’s make a stop or two along the way.”