I am not the monster you once thought me to be. But I’m not sure I qualify as a man. I have always been lesser, and my gravest fear is that the ones I love most will one day see me for what I am.

A slave without a people. A slave without a home.

Rayne, your majesty, wherever you are, if you can hear this—I hope you recognize the unmistakable charm and magnificence in my voice. This is my Verse.

[Sagan Sterling]: It’s me, babe. I’m laughing, and Korac is glaring at me with that quirked brow and a smirk.

At this rate, we’ll find ourselves in Eternity before finishing.

[SS]: I wish you were here to see it. To see… everything.

Sagan is kindly taking my dictation with a surprising air of professionalism. I intend to test the limits of her focus while we work. Don’t be jealous. I don’t stand between you two. But you’re already aware of that, sprite, are you not?

You impress me, and you earned my respect some time ago. Not for killing Nox. It was before that. When you visited the desert fortress for the dance. You sent my garrison to its knees with a glance at your back.

I’ll never forget the mixture of vulnerability and confidence in your eyes. Yes, I knew it then. We were in for a fight.

Now you and I fight on the same side. In the name of righteousness and all that huggy shit the Shadow stands for. I’m mostly here to rid the Vast Collective of legitimate monsters. Men like Razor and Abresson.

The Shadow wait, you see? And as we wait, a certain blond Seamswalker asked me to fulfill my commitment to the past. In doing so, we might catch you up to our present. This will broadcast across the entire Vast Collective. Redacted—possibly. But let my voice reach you, sprite, as I tell you my story.

Of one titanic warrior, lover, and leader. Of a lost boy. And of a man only now finding his identity and purpose, nearly three million years after his auspicious making.

As I wasn’t present for said event, I’ll call on my father to tell the story. And I pray to Elden this controlled environment affords me some experience with this new ability. Sagan?

[SS]: Korac sits on the bed, hands resting on his knees, and meditates. I’m quiet so as not to disturb him. After a few minutes, he opens not his eyes, but another’s. Zero’s eyes are colorless with a hollow black ring for a pupil.

I’m staring into them now. I can’t express what this feels like. Looking at the man I love, but at someone else smiling with his lips.

Seamswalker. Lovely to see you again. I understand my son wants my account of his conception. An unusual request, but I am happy to acquiesce. Under one condition.

[SS]: He holds up Korac’s finger, and I fight not to shiver. I blink a few times at him, pondering potential requests. “What’s that?”

May I have something to eat?

[SS]: Of course, I fed him and ate something, myself. As is proper. Afterward, Zero is ready.

The siege of our catacombs on Thailea—our last bastion of refuge—reduced us to strategize our end. How best to end, I should say. As a last resort, the Aegis court unanimously agreed to enact the Atheneum stratagem. A terrifying, desperate risk. And with our women dissolved by Inanis, we improvised. To our good fortune, the solution fell from the sky.

Three Two Four, Razor—whichever moniker you choose—heralded an army of figures from the Probability Matrix to fight alongside the Icarean forces. They outnumbered our dwindling race three hundred thousand-to-one. Not impossible odds, but we were committed to prevent further loss of life than necessary. Ours and the Icari. Tritan puppets. Many Icari were unhappy with the arrangement. Two such women plummeted from the atmosphere and crashed into a cave system adjacent to the tombs.

I risked everything to meet them, and what fortune awaited me.

“Para, please open your eyes.” The Icarean female with spiked hair kissed the knuckles of the smaller, blue-haired woman.

I lingered outside the ice cavern she secured with traps in the short time since falling. Blue blood pooled in the scrapes on her exposed back. The unconscious one bled from her eyes and ears.

As I watched the taller one examine her companion, the warrior abruptly and coldly asked, “Will you not attack me from behind? Or are you honorable and waiting for me to turn? You waste your time. Nothing will make me turn from her.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Her voice was deep and husky. Despite the ice in her tone, the words warmed me through. And saddened me.

I lingered in the opening, unwilling to agitate her further with increased proximity. “I wish no harm on the Icari.”

She chuffed at the unlikeliness of my reassurance, but went about tending the unconscious woman as if no longer threatened.

I leaned back in the archway and looked at the hole made from their landing. “If I could only convince you. This battle is not what it seems. The Tritans use you as pawns. You fight and die for them, but we have no quarrel with you. I know you understand we face extinction.”

“Yes.” Direct and terse, but also a little sad.

The hint of softness in her voice gave me hope. “Have you any reason to wish this on us?”

“No. I know nothing of the Ancients or any motivations for our participation in this theater. Only that our King forces us. Well, I care nothing for him. Or his General. I care for my soldiers. And for Para. Please. Leave us without harm.”

She faced me. Eyes half black and half green. Unusual, even for her kind. Her feminine cheeks and lips and expressive brows softened sharp features. Her gear exposed much of her deep gray skin and the corded muscle beneath.

I found her beautiful.

Far more strong and fierce than any Aegis woman. The Icari breed warriors capable of mighty destruction. We breed scientists and explorers. For the first time since our arrival in this universe, I found myself curious of destruction.

Leaving my arms loose, I bargained, “I can help her, if you will spare me enough of your time to explain this siege. To explain what I understand of Tritan motivation. And well… to ask for your aid.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and her exotic eyes widened. The intelligence behind them moved quickly, and she agreed.

I told her the briefest version of the events that led to this campaign. Then I told her of our only means for salvation.

“A library of bones?” Karter offered me some rations.

By this point, we relaxed onto the cold cave floor. It seeped through my coat that I laid out for our conversation. Para slept soundly, digesting Aegis blood through her nacre. Eventually, it would sicken her and require siphoning, but only after it treated her terrible concussions. Her skull was cracked so thoroughly that her hard tissue repair system malfunctioned. My blood would revive it in time.

Until then, Karter kindly listened with that underutilized intellect and a tendency to smile freely. Often. She seemed almost excited to learn this information without yet understanding the extent of its burden.

I laid on my side with my back to the fire, staring intently into her eyes. I wanted her to understand. “Yes. The Atheneum. But we cannot manifest it into our existing skeletal structures. It begins at conception.”

Karter sat with her legs crossed, facing the flames. She looked down, gave an incredulous shake of her head and gazed at me once more. “My help?” The brave woman already guessed.

Brilliant and amenable. She impressed me greatly, so I said as much. “I must say, I am so fortunate you were the Icarus to crash into our tombs.”

“Ask.”

The moment felt monumental. Significant. I sat up to meet her on equal footing and searched her face for the answer before I even asked the question. “Will you honor us with such an appointment? The savior of our people. The Icarean saint.”

“I want to raise the child.” Karter glanced over at Para. “We obviously cannot reproduce together, but I know Para. She would rear the baby as her own.”

Since I knew not my future for the next few months, I saw no harm in this. This front was no place to raise a child. But… “You understand you may not survive the delivery?”

She shook her head at my lack of faith. “Pfft. You never before this day met a Valkyrie. I am warrior enough to move worlds. I can manage birthing.”

For the first time in a hundred thousand years, I smiled, but the thought of another condition wiped the expression away. “One day, I must claim him or her for their intended purpose, but I will never take them from you. Yes. Your terms are agreeable.”

Once Karter beamed that beautiful smile at me, I at least knew my future for the next few days. We both enjoyed it thoroughly.

[SS]: My future father-in-law just winked at me. Actually winked at me.

Three days I spent with her while we tended to her unconscious partner. The experience enticed a curiosity for races outside the Aegis that I never fathomed before Karter. I liked her. I hoped she would survive to raise our baby to be like her.

By the end, we held one another while we watched Para slowly recover. It was during one of these quiet moments that I sensed the change in her. And another Aegis breathing nearby. “You conceived a boy, and there is no more time. I must return to my people. I regret I cannot stay.”

Karter showed no signs of distress, only mild apprehension. “Our son, what do you want me to call him?”

Three Two Five hardly seemed viable in Icarean society, and the Tritans might recognize “the Atheneum.” For the first time in three hundred and twenty-five healthy conceptions, I gifted a son with a name. Possibly for less kind reasons. I knew the naming would upset Three Two Four, who I suspected lurked within the caves. Because of this, I also wanted to separate this new child from our lost existence. We could never go back. My youngest son was a symbol of that.

“Call him Korac.”

I understand Three Two Four manipulated Karter’s recollection of our time together and of the delivery she survived. I mourn for her. I am grateful for this opportunity to reach her with the truth. For three days, I knew her and felt for her ever since.

When I told Three Two Four of Korac’s name, I knew he would ensure the baby kept it. As a reminder of Three Two Four’s spite for a brother with such an important future. To feed the seething resentment and feelings of ineptitude. So symbolic of his own self-perceived failures, I regret the anguish Korac suffered because of it. But I don’t regret naming my son—one born to a universe without his kind.

My leave comes. Korac wishes to return. Thank you again, Seamswalker. Thank you for looking after him.

[SS]: I smile for Zero even after his eyes close. For when they open, my love returns to me. Shaken. He heard every word and admits to feeling something close to his father’s emotions. We took a recess and return with snacks. He’s eating an apple. Sexily, of course. I’m drinking from a juice box. We continue.

I searched my entire life for a people. For a home. Because from where my recollection of the story begins, I am damned from the start.