Upon her return to the clinic, Blye locked herself away in seclusion, refusing all contact and eschewing anything besides the bare necessities of life. Despite their best efforts, Prash, Amar and Velsa couldn't coax any response from her, other than to help repair her fellow Knight’s shoulder. Once the surgery was completed, she walled herself off once more. The others soldiered on as best they could, but without her guidance and leadership, they were doing little more than treading water.

Outside the clinic, a crowd had gathered, sitting in vigil as they awaited the return of their spiritual leader. Individuals came and went, cycling through, but the throng itself remained, all of them hoping for a sign, for some significant portent to guide them. They pressed the others for details whenever they emerged, only to be told again and again there was no change. The group had all the earmarks of a newly formed religion, praying for deliverance as the End of Days loomed near.

Several days later, a small squadron of ships arrived, settling in orbit over the planet of Taing’zem. The KHS Malta, leading the flotilla, communicated with the other Knights and was apprised of the situation, sending down a shuttle as the crowd watched with anticipation. Terrans and a handful of other species appeared as the hatch opened, the delegation immediately greeted by Amar and Prash as they brought the new arrivals up to speed. Once fully briefed, the two men led the delegation to the clinic, with all but one of them remaining outside as their companion stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

Sitting in her chair, staring at nothing, Blye heard approaching footsteps. She ignored it, as she had all the others, until a familiar voice spoke.

“Hello, Blye,” Grand Master Makar said gently, taking a seat nearby.

“Grand Master,” she answered, bowing her head. “When I sent that message, I didn’t expect you to come here yourself.”

“After reading your report, how could I not? When we first lost contact with you, we feared the worst. When the Bamidh supply ships reported an Aggaaddub battlecruiser parked in high orbit, warning off all other vessels… well, as I said, we feared the worst.” He took a moment to look her over, taking special notice of the device grafted onto her skull. “Are you in any pain?”

“Not physically, no,” she answered. He waited for her to expand on that, but nothing followed.

With a heavy sigh, he asked, “Blye, just what exactly are you expecting from me?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “This is all new to me. Demotion, at the very least. Possibly even dismissal from the Clan.” She turned away from him. “I failed you, Grand Master,” she said in a small voice. “I failed the Clan. And most damning of all, I failed those I swore to save.”

“... Bullshit.”

Her head snapped back around in shock. “What?”

“You heard me.” His tone was light, but firm. “After reading your report, and speaking to your fellow Knights, there are several words I might use to describe what took place here… but failure isn’t one of them.”

“Tell that to them,” she said pointedly. “Tell the families of the dead I’m not a disgrace to the Clan. Tell Prash and Amar.” She paused for a moment, and then whispered, “Tell Spata Zhai.” Tears filled her eyes as the pain gripped her heart once more. “They all know the truth. If I’d done my job the right way, those people would still be alive.”

“I have spoken to them, in fact,” he informed her. “Chevaliers Dibra and Svoboda are perhaps your fiercest advocates. They both sent reports of their own, it may surprise you to learn, and while some of what they detailed may be… well, cause for concern, overall what they communicated can only be characterized as a remarkable achievement, in the face of overwhelming odds.”

“They’re just trying to protect me,” she snapped, dismissing his words. “They’re good men, good Knights, and they don't deserve to be tarred with the same brush as me.”

The Grand Master sighed once more, shaking his head. “Are you that intent on falling on your sword?” he asked her. “Blye, I gave you an impossible task. We were stretched thin… still are, in fact… but the need was so great I had no other choice. That you accomplished as much as you did is nothing short of miraculous, and I’m certain that anyone in this camp would say the same.”

“I was supposed to protect them!” she screamed, her sudden vehemence startling the Clan leader. “I watched and did nothing when Kaihautu Yugha ordered his guards to gun down the Qi-Tam, just to make a point. Terra alone knows how many I led to their deaths when we stormed the Aggaaddub ship… and the only reason they came is because I played on their emotions like a goddamn violin, manipulating them because I needed them.” She jumped to her feet, her nostrils flaring with seething anger. “I betrayed them in the name of expediency, the very people I was supposed to keep safe, and nothing I do will ever make that right.” She clenched her hands in tight fists as her body trembled with rage, until without warning the fight went out of her, dropping her back into her chair like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut.

“... nothing will ever make it right,” she whispered, sitting back down as tears filled her eyes, “and nothing will ever expunge the guilt.”

“And there it is,” the Grand Master nodded. “I had a feeling that’s what this was all about. Your guilt. You want to be punished, to atone in some small way for the crimes you’re certain you’ve committed.” Blye buried her face in her hands and wept as he silently regarded her until speaking up once more. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. I’m not about to make an example out of you, or break you, or imprison you or excommunicate you, or whatever other sanctions you think you deserve. Did you cross a line? Yes, you did… but not the one you think you’re guilty of.”

“And which one is that?” she demanded, though it lacked the fire of her previous outburst.

“Blye, first and foremost, the Knights are healers. We have other functions, of course, but the medical arts have always been at our core, stretching back to old Terra itself. Individuals and governments of all species come to us because they know we will do our very best to heal their wounds and ailments. Our efforts might not always be successful, but not for lack of trying. They trust us, because we have always hewn to the Hippocratic Oath.” He leaned in close, invading her space. “But the instant they suspect we’re substituting arsenic for ampicillin, we lose all credibility. A healer can never be a poisoner, because once trust is gone, it is gone forever.” He paused for a moment and then shook his head. “Not to mention that with our knowledge and skills, we’d be very good at it. That’s a causal link we can never let them make.”

“Oh God,” she said, horrified, as a fresh wave of shame washed over her. “What have I done?”

He gave her a minute to let that sink in, before finally relenting. “Thankfully, in this case, I believe the potential damage to our reputation has been contained. To be perfectly blunt… all your victims are dead. No records exist of those incidents, except our own, which you can safely assume are being expunged. And as far as any witnesses may be concerned, I’m certain we can rely on their discretion.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said helplessly. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“That’s not true,” he countered. “You had other choices. They were just all bad ones.”

She hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, her cheeks glowing red.

“Yes, well, consider yourself reprimanded,” he said lightly. “I know you won’t do it again.” There was another pause. “You won’t do it again, will you?”

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“No, of course not,” she vowed, shaking her head. “My word as a Knight.”

“I intend to hold you to that,” he said sternly, though Blye couldn't see the small smile playing around the corner of his mouth. “Now, with that out of the way… let’s talk about that other matter.”

“Which matter is that sir?” she asked him.

“Your visions, not to mention that little cult you’ve got going outside,” he informed her. “Just what exactly am I to make of all that?”

“... you think I’m crazy, don't you?’ she said bitterly.

“I didn’t say that,” he countered. “Being completely candid, I haven’t formed an opinion one way or the other. Chevaliers Dibra and Svoboda have their own theories on the subject, but neither of them are the head of this clan. Ultimately, it’s my decision that matters, not anyone else's.” He settled himself in his chair, getting comfortable. “So, tell me about them. Your visions, I mean.”

“Are you asking as my Clan leader, as a Terran, or as a psychologist?” she countered.

“Yes,” he riposted.

His honesty took the wind out of her sails. “I know all the arguments against what I experienced,” she said slowly, feeling her way. “The surgery, the meningitis, delayed-stress disorder brought on by Kaihautu Yugha and his threats, interfacing with Aleph… I know how it looks. As a physician, I would likely diagnose psychosis, possibly stemming from cerebral trauma, if someone presented me with the same facts.”

“But?” he prompted her.

It took her a moment to respond. “I wish I could share with you what I’ve witnessed, let you experience it the same way I did,” she said at last. “The things the Ancient showed me, they were the most beautiful images I have ever seen. Threshold… it’s a place of wonder. Of miracles.” An ethereal expression came over her as she relived those moments once more. “And the Ancient herself; Grand Master, she was mesmerizing and exotic and wise and gentle and…” Blye abruptly cut herself off, blushing furiously. “She was everything we humans wish we could be.” Her sightless gaze met his. “She was an angel. No other word does her justice.”

“Assuming for a moment she’s real,” the Grand Master said after a moment’s reflection, “it begs the question, why now? Why here? And why did she choose you as her herald?”

“I can’t answer that,” she sighed. “Maybe it has something to do with Aleph, his presence here on Taing’zem. Maybe linking with him acted as some sort of conduit to the Precursors. That’s the only thing I can think of,” she shrugged.

“Mmm, yes, Aleph. Its destruction is a great tragedy,” he mused. “Just think what it could have taught us.”

“It’s for the best,” she said quietly, her voice filled with regret. “Its mere existence drove Kaihautu Yugha to madness, fueling his murderous rampage. Had the rest of the Troika learned of his existence, they would have turned this world into a war zone, one that would make Sonoitii Prime pale in comparison.” Blye shook her head, though her obvious reluctance of her admission was impossible to miss. “He deserved better, but… maybe someday. When we’re ready.”

“Well, you’ve unearthed… if you’ll pardon the expression… some very interesting questions,” he responded, tabling the previous topic. “Not the least of which being our hitherto unknown connection to the Precursors. It explains how a lowly Terran scout breached their homeworld’s defenses, a feat no other race has ever accomplished. It may also explain some of the actions the Troika have taken over the years. If they were aware of our relationship with the Ancients…”

“... it might explain why they’ve taken such a keen interest in our affairs over the last two centuries,” she finished. “If that’s true, if they knew all along we were their descendants, then it makes sense they’d want to keep us hobbled, yet still use us as their stalking horse to locate Threshold. It might also account for their often-schizophrenic behavior towards us; hunting us like beasts one minute and then ignoring us completely the next.” Her features suddenly darkened. “And then there’s the Protean connection. That… thing the Kaihautu used to try to interface with Aleph. What if that was their game all along? To learn as much as they could about Terran physiology and genetics, so they could create a hybrid that would get them past Threshold’s guardian?”

The Grand Master grimaced. “Now there’s a disturbing thought,” he said uncomfortably. “I’d love to take it up with their clan leader, but at the moment, I don’t know who that might be. Your friend Samara did a rather thorough job of leaving their hierarchy in shreds.”

“I wouldn’t call us ‘friends’, sir,” she said awkwardly.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid that leaves us with the big question still unanswered.” He leaned forward, folding his hands together. “Where do we go from here?”

“I’m… not sure I follow,” Blye stammered.

“Then I’ll be blunt. Just what exactly am I to do with you?” he said pointedly. “I’m not going to punish you, frankly you’re doing a bang-up job of that all by yourself. But there’s still the camp to consider, not to mention how the Troika is going to react when they learn you destroyed one of their vessels. On top of all that, there’s your, well, current disability. We need to schedule you for surgery with our best Primaires, so they can remove that abomination from your skull. We need time to give you a complete physiological and neurological workup… and we can’t do that here.” He pulled out his tablet and opened a file. “But based on the preliminary data I’ve received from Chevaliers Dibra and Svoboda regarding your case, there are… concerns.”

“Concerns? What kind of concerns?” she said in sudden panic.

The Grand Master’s tone and posture shifted as he leaned forward, taking her hand in his. Blye recognized it immediately, as it was one she had adopted herself many times over the years; the kindly doctor who’s forced to deliver bad news to their patient. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for what was coming.

“Prash and Amar did the best job they could, given the circumstances,” he explained, “but as they themselves pointed out, they were woefully unqualified for surgery this invasive. That you survived at all is nothing short of miraculous, but there is a chance your condition could be… permanent.”

Blye nodded slowly, taking that in. “What sort of chance?” she asked quietly.

“I can’t answer that yet, not without a much more thorough examination,” he informed her, “but I give you my word, we will do everything in our power to help you. You’ll get the best Primaire in their field as your personal physician, and as much time as you require for your recovery. That I swear.”

It took her a moment to work up enough courage to ask the question that had been plaguing her since she’d lost her sight. “And if I never recover?” she said in a small voice. “What happens to me then?”

The Grand Master sighed. “Blye, we’re not there yet. Let’s hold off on discussing that until we know for sure. After all, the whole thing…”

“... No,” she snapped, interrupting him. “I need to know now, Grand Master. If my blindness truly is permanent, where do I go? What place is there for me among the clan?”

He sighed once more. “I swear, doctors truly make the worst patients. All right, since you insist on having this conversation now, no matter what happens, there will always be a place for you. My word as your clan leader.”

“What place?” she insisted, not letting up.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he said unhappily. “There are many positions you’d be well suited for. For example, I think you would make an excellent instructor. Someone needs to teach the younger Chevaliers what it takes to be a good doctor.” His posture grew more formal, more rigid. “But it is safe to say that should your condition prove untreatable, your days of fieldwork would be over.”

Blye doubled over at his words, almost as if he’d punched her in the stomach. “I can still do the job,” she swore to him. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t take this away from me.”

“I’m sorry Blye,” he said, his words filled with sympathy, “but I won’t put a blind woman in the field. And if you can look at the situation dispassionately, you’ll understand why. What you accomplished without your sight beggars the imagination, but the risks are simply too high. I won’t stand by and let you play Russian Roulette, not on my watch.”

Tears filled her eyes as she watched it all disappear, everything she’d spent her whole life working for. “There is, however,” he continued, “another option.”

Her head snapped back up. “What option, sir?” she asked with renewed hope.

“Well, it has to do with your visions. I don’t think you’re crazy, in fact, after all you’ve been through, I find you to be remarkably sane. But what you’re talking about, Blye, it’s not science. It’s faith.”

“Yes sir,” she agreed softly, “it is.”

“Well, a friend of mine might just be able to help you with that. It will be some time while we examine your case, this isn’t something we want to rush. I see no reason why we can’t detach you temporarily while you explore those questions. She’s a Priestess of Terra, and not a bad amateur psychologist in her own right. Her work takes her throughout the various clans… for example, last Rendezvous, she led the Remembrance Day service on Freya.”

“Wait… tall, dark hair, regal bearing?” Blye said in shock.

“I thought you might remember her,” he smiled. “If you’d like, I could make a call.”

“But what about my duties?” she asked.

“Even doctors have been known to take sabbaticals,” he chuckled, before growing serious once more. “Blye, if these visions are truly important to you, and what’s more, if you think there might be some connection between them and the Precursor homeworld, then I would be remiss in my duties, not only as your Clan leader, but as a Terran, if I didn’t give you the opportunity to examine them more fully. Something like this takes time; time to reflect, time to search your feelings, and time to discuss them with someone who has been asking those same questions for years. Interested?”

“I think… maybe I am,” Blye said after a moment, much to her own surprise.