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Nox experienced every moment of Rayne’s existence in depths he never imagined possible. Sensory. Thought. Emotion. All of it.

Yes, he cried. Rayne wept often in her brief life. And often because of his cruelty. Case in point, the image currently stilled on the screen. Nox’s hand crushed over her mouth in the observatory after their dance. While he grieved this moment in his own reflections, living it as her…

Rayne’s regret for trusting him destroyed her. And now him. He wanted her to see a monster, and he was quite thorough in his work.

Nox almost asked her to shut it off. The combination of her broken heart and his shame crippled him. But he needed to see this. He asked to know why he was wrong.

Elden, was he ever right?

Only a moment later, Rayne paused it and offered, “We should stop and recover for a while.” She set aside the considerable length of rope she fashioned whenever her hands were free.

Even with the interruptions, Nox caught up on Rayne’s life in only a few days. The brevity of it compared to his existence sorrowed him. For so much of it involved his torment of her.

“I need time to process this,” he heard himself request. The mixed association of the experience overwhelmed him.

Rayne walked over to the image of herself trapped between him and the bookshelf. The tears. The loss.

“I may not be six million, but looking at her… I feel ancient in comparison.”

She sounded so lost. Was. Was so lost. He felt it through their connection. He looked away and focused on anything else.

“The Progeny wonder when you’ll leave the Complex. Are you planning to assist them?” Nox stood slowly, conscious of keeping himself loosened and his hands somewhat distanced. Unarmed. Nonthreatening. This made her the most comfortable.

Rayne turned around to face him. Her skin glowed like moonlight in this space. Commanding, strong, she assured, “It’s not time yet. Someone is testing us. Strategically, they aim to weaken our weapons and medical research. It’s smart. But the facilities and backing are better prepared than Imminent expected.”

“Astute.”

Her gaze fell to the floor, and she chewed on her lip. After another moment, she muttered, “I worry about T.a.o. and Silence. About Jack.” The woman locked inside her own head looked to the ceiling and closed her eyes as if she basked in sunlight. “All I can do is worry.”

Rayne pulsed a blue the same color as her eyes. The same color as his blood. She dressed in flowy tunics lately. The jeweled tones complemented her pale skin and black hair. The carefree comfort of her clothing contrasted with her usual combat gear.

Gear she wore always in preparation to fight Nox.

“I never imagined… Pax. I wonder if I should tell Tameka about grandy Primary?” Rayne looked at him across the space and hugged herself. “You knew?”

Nox nodded. He recalled the exact instant he learned of the Progeny’s pregnancy. During the battle at the caldera, he momentarily captured his brother’s woman. Smelled the maternity in her scent. And immediately discarded her, unharmed.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Not a scenario enters my mind that would explain why she didn’t confess it to you before you entered the Complex.” He spread out his hands. “Sincerely, I didn’t know.”

Rayne concentrated momentarily, as if sensing the truth in his words. Satisfied, she asked, “What do you advise?” She swept up her hair and tied it back from her face.

He glanced away and considered her question. “She should know. But I’m not sure to what end. I doubt even Enki knows. Just those closest to that Primary. I understand he seeded many children without Enki’s knowledge.”

Rayne walked around the space until she stood in front of him. With her hair back, her cheekbones looked more prominent and drew attention to her nose. Her frown crinkled it as she asked, “But why? Why keep it a secret?”

“If Elden’s Prerogative was to act in betterment of the Icarean race, then the Tritan’s mission is to reproduce within their species. They’re dying. And they created us to observe their unmaking. To create outside of that, as the Primary has done, is to break that prerogative.”

Her eyes widened at that. “Primary Rem used almost those exact words when we met him.”

Absorbing this information, Rayne paced away. When she brought her thumbnail to her lips, a pang hit Nox in the heart. Startled, she looked up at him. Conscious now of her adopting Xelan’s habit—the recognition of it—her pain almost doubled Nox over.

He winced and rubbed his temples. She rubbed her chest, almost gasping.

Grief hurt. His time with Rayne convinced Nox that he never experienced true loss until now. He hated it. For him and for her. He tried to imagine his life up to this point with emotions this potent. No. He’d perish already. Not because of the weapon. To feel as Rayne felt meant suicide for Nox.

The rejection of his parents. The divide with his brother. Celindria’s betrayal. And the death of his unborn child. Just… no.

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“You’re capable of so much more than I imagined. And you’re so much more than ever I could hope to be…” The words choked him.

Rayne stood only steps from him. Caution narrowed her gaze. Curiosity brightened her eyes.

Nox wanted nothing more than to convey a significance to her without in any way obligating her in return. He didn’t want or deserve her forgiveness. But to let her know…

Regret. Remorse.

She gasped in a shaky breath and stared at him in disbelief.

He fought not to wince at her shock.

“No.” Gravely, Rayne shook her head. “Not yet. We’ll have that discussion. But you’ve yet to earn it. Not until we’ve been through everything together. Every. Last. Moment.”

Nox hated the gravity in her voice, but he understood. And she was right. “Agreed. Is it time then?”

“No. I’m not ready. Are you?”

He looked away, ashamed of his fear. “Not as such.” After a long moment, he cleared his throat and tried for more appropriate conversation, “Why do you want Caedes here?”

“I’m unsure, but Tameka has to feed, right?”

Nox nodded, understanding now.

“Right. So if Caedes leaves with the embargo active, she has no one to feed from. And I can’t…” She sat down on the couch near Nox, rope in hand. She looked up at him and continued, “I can’t shake this feeling. Have you ever felt this way? Like you’re on a familiar course?”

Her eyes sparkled electric blue up at him. She was so tiny from this angle. It dizzied him. He sat down on the other end of the couch. Better. “Yes. The Valkyrie. Almost every event with them seemed not necessarily predictable so much as if it already occurred. I could see those moments from far away, but they also felt inevitable.”

“Right.” She drew closer, scanning his gaze. Eager in her quest for his knowledge. “Do you think the Probabilities are like that with everyone or…” Her words trailed off in a spiral of curious assumptions.

“I’m afraid, your majesty, that I wouldn’t know. You’re the first person I’ve shared this eerie perception with.”

She blushed at his use of her title.

Nox stood abruptly and took a few steps away. Rayne’s proximity affected him, disembodied or not. And any reaction to her felt inappropriate given their circumstances. To think, only two years ago, he couldn’t care less about appropriate.

Now? Inside her conscience?

Rayne shared his thoughts and emotions with him. Everything with him. After watching her survive so much with a grace and strength he could never hope to match…

Nox loved Rayne more than ever.

Through living most of her life with her, he recognized the impossibility of it. The incorrectness of it. He always knew he was never quite right, of course. But he had thought he grasped the basics of caring for another.

He was wrong. Elden, was he wrong. Leave her the story of his life and disappear without ever facing her. That was the plan. The only one that made sense at the time.

Nox turned to find Rayne looking up at him, expectant. As always, she surprised him. She waited for him to answer.

“I believe the more events coalesce around us, the stronger the perception.”

She stood as he spoke, still looking up at him from chest-height. Fearless. Without reason to fear. Rayne found peace.

Well, more or less. A pretty blush crept on her cheeks as she quipped, “Let’s hope this perception doesn’t include anymore of my friends coalescing in the pit.”

Nox laughed abruptly, recalling her face as the soldier and the Valkyrie went at it.

“Again?!” she cried.

He tried to hide his amusement, aware of the strained gulf between them on the subject.

But since she bridged the chasm first… “The moment you showed me the installation of cozy couches and palettes, I knew. And I knew it would be two Icari.”

“Why’s that?” She tilted her head to the side and folded her arms. Her long ponytail swayed with her movements.

Nox waved dismissively. “Humans waste time. I’m surprised it took two years for my people to take advantage of the quiet venue.”

At the generalization of her kind, Rayne’s eyes hardened into ice. “Maybe humans are more respectful of the space.”

No, no fierce warrior. He wouldn’t tolerate that kind of talk. “Do you think for one second Para and Bones feel anything less than the utmost respect for you?”

Love for her people melted that icy stare. She shifted uncomfortably before letting her arms fall to her side.

Nox continued to defend them, “They simply didn’t know, Rayne. And the moment you let them know, they stole away to somewhere more private for your modesty. Because I assure you they don’t have any.”

“Why not?” With curiosity in her voice, she idly snatched up the rope and continued manifesting it. As if her hands sought it out when otherwise unoccupied.

“Why don’t they have the modesty of humans?” He phrased the question to better understand what she wanted for an answer.

At her nod, he contemplated the least insulting way to explain it. Funny that. He spent most of his time since death carefully considering his words for her. Well, everything about his time with her. Not only his words.

“Religion repressed your people. Icari couldn’t afford repression. They lived in semi-public dwellings with mandatory demonstrations of consummation. It was necessary. Repopulate. Thrive. I can’t speak for the entire Vast Collective, of course. But humans are the most repressed beings I’ve encountered thus far.”

Leveling with his gaze, Rayne’s voice softened as if she feared her next question, “Does that include you?”

What did she want from him? He survived by suppressing his urges for millions of years. Denied himself. But… “I am no longer the man you read about in that Verse. I haven’t been for thousands of years.”

“No. That man was incapable of what you did to me.”

Nox clenched his jaw shut.

“He was a man worth knowing.” Rope in hand, she turned her back on him and took a few steps away.

Nox chuffed bitterly. If only. Meeting Rayne before the invasion plans. Before the madness.

Once upon a time…

“Why the rope?” He couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer.

As she spoke, Rayne kept her eyes on the knots. “Rope can make a bridge, a net, or a noose. Where you see a way to strangle someone, I see a way to connect.”

“To what end?” The ongoing mystery of her would forever puzzle him.

“A rope is what you make of it. With more knots it can be something with purpose.” Rayne tossed him the end. “Replicate the knots. I could use your help. It takes a lot out of me to work on this construct. I’m afraid I won’t finish in time.”

Ignoring the foreboding in her words, Nox grazed his fingers along the smooth material. The filaments. They were—

“Glass? Rayne, is this—”

“It’s made of me. From my nacre,” she offered this explanation as if it weren’t completely impossible.

Nox refrained from gaping and sat with his end. He admitted, “I trust your instincts.”

After another quiet moment, he stared down the rope at her. She concentrated until a little furrow creased her brow. Nacre glass formed at her fingertips, drawn from her chest and woven immediately into the rope.

“Rayne, use my nacre.” He raised a hand to stifle her argument. “Don’t waste yours.”

They both turned and gazed across the mindscape. After a stretch, the tiled floor transitioned into sand. The sand into surf. The surf into an ocean.

And on the horizon, clouds gathered across that ocean. The storm so vast and broad it never ended. It spanned the waters with bolts of lightning. From here, in the screening room, they heard the thunder in the distance. Salty water misted on the occasional breeze, stronger now than two years ago.

With her voice hushed in awe, Rayne asked, “Will I finish in time?”

“Yes.” Nox knew for certain. Because he knew what she’d yet to understand.

Rayne was the storm.