Let’s start a new chapter here, shall we? We’ll cover my time on Cinder from Earth-age twelve to eighteen. Sagan, what do you think of “A People, A Home” for the chapter name?

[SS]: He’s standing behind me, caressing my bare shoulders. I’m smiling at him as I inform him, “We are still two hundred and fifty words from reaching ten thousand.”

I’m not sure I can wait another syllable. Every time you adjust your glasses, you look so sweetly serious. And you crinkle your nose in delight when you hit the carriage return on that typewriter. It’s testing my restraint.

[SS]: The last he breathes against my ear, followed by the scent of peppermint—I’ll probably redact all of this, but I much prefer to write the real-time smut to relieve some of this—

I am more than prepared to relieve all of your tension, amos. Tell me. Have you typed enough nonsensical words to fill out our milestone?

[SS]: I’m gaping and gasping all at once. Rightfully offended. How did he know—Don’t chuckle while you peek at what I’m writing. It’s so—

Hot? Sexy? I can be such a handful at times, but right now all I want is a handful of your hips. Come on. You’ve reached ten thousand words.

[SS]: We hit the milestone. Korac dragged me away from my typewriter for a break. Now we’ve returned with far messier hair.

Mmm… we’ll have to hurry for twenty thousand.

[SS]: Oh, Elden save me. He’s smirking.

Onward to a considerable shift in my outlook on life. I’ve learned since these events that Primary Remorse delivered me to Umbra. They rendezvoused in the Valkyries’ wing within the Spire. The all-black rock put me in mind of Gait, but the smell of ash distinguished it from the odor of sweaty prisoners.

“Primary, the women will look after the boy. Amolot will train him for the garrison.”

With my eyes lowered, Umbra looked like a cenobite from the waist down. I realize this was well before Clive Barker’s time, but he would win a Hellraiser casting call. Hooks and gold piercings sprinkled all over his body and clothes. Rips and tears held together with buckles and straps. Yet in Remorse’s presence, he radiated weakness despite his ornate badassery.

Although I didn’t realize it was Remorse at the time, I recognized the orb belted on his robes. With a voice deeper than Tumu’s, I discerned he was a different Tritan that dressed similarly. He ordered further, “Do not subject him to harm or undue danger. Anything more than a scrape or a simple cut, and you will answer to me. Understand?”

“Understood, Primary.”

The Tritan pointed a long finger centimeters from Umbra’s nose. “No abuse from you, either. If I catch any of your signature aggression, I will erase you from the Probability Matrix.”

When Umbra kowtowed, I saw that his hair was long and wavy on one side and shaved on the other. Braids, feathers, and beads—It made for a fearsome impression until he kissed Remorse’s toeless foot.

I almost laughed, and reflecting on it, I appreciate the Primary’s attitude to some degree. Umbra was a pile of flaming drake shit, and the old Tritan treated him as such.

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“No passing on of his lineage. Do. Not. Sterilize him. We want him capable, but not successful until we deem it necessary.”

“Understood, Primary. The contaminant will not reproduce.”

The Primary swept toward the door. His robes whispered by me. “Good. I will return soon to check in on him. Now, where is Prince Nox today?”

Umbra straightened to his knees. “His chambers, preparing for an outing. Why do you ask?”

That was a mistake.

Remorse spun on him. “You never need to know ‘why’ from me unless you want a hole through your chest.”

The King of Cinder went back to kissing the floor. “Yes, Primary.”

Remorse left me alone with a humiliated Umbra. The man glared at me with his gray eyes cold as iron. “Amolot will inspect you. Contaminant.” He let all his bitter impotence seethe into that one word.

I was still unimpressed. Then the silhouette of an Olympic weight-lifter darkened the doorway.

Amolot.

What a piece of work.

With a grin, she said one ugly word, “Strip.”

She inspected me all right. Bitch tried to break me. Mentally, it took me back to the sixteen hours alone in that drone’s cell. Twice I think she attempted to burst through my sternum and take my nacre. Again Razor’s revelations make sense of long forgotten curiosities.

[SS]: Korac’s referring to the composition and hardness of his bones, considering his relation to the Aegis.

Unlike most of the prisoners from Monarch 3, L. Capra, Lukemore, etcetera—The Icari excelled at combat. I studied Amolot during the “inspection” and discovered no weaknesses to exploit to my advantage. After she exhausted her sadistic appetite for the evening, she silently left me in the Valkyries’ barracks.

“Shh, Para. Amolot left. For once, we can be alone together.”

A deep, husky voice opened my eyes where I lay curled in a ball so tight my spine ached from it. I discerned the unmistakable sound of kissing. And decided that just this once, I wouldn’t listen to someone have sex to my misery. I groaned loudly to announce myself.

One of the two people in the room yipped with a startle.

The other took a step closer, declaring, “The other Valkyrie are away on training. Who goes there?”

Her voice.

It was so rich and warm. She wasn’t alarmed. More like put-out that I ruined her date. Unsure which hurt more, the fetal position or my effort to reach into the scant light from the window. I cried out.

“A boy!” The other woman rushed to me and stopped. She turned her face into the taller woman’s breast at the sight of me.

The tall woman with a mohawk of all colors spat, “Elden, curse Amolot.” Softer, she asked, “Baby, can you hear me?” Her black and green eyes sparked with anger for her General.

Baby.

Karter.

My mother.

[SS]: Korac’s sitting again, staring at the floor. He has this smile on his face. I want to describe it, but I can’t find the words. It’s bittersweet and verging on tears. I think a hug is needed.

I loved Karter then; you see? She was—is—a genuinely warm person. Like Wiw. I’ve always loved my mother.

When she lifted me gingerly from the rock floor, she took care to prevent further injury. Baths were attached to the barracks. It hurt to sit in the hot water, but I knew she wanted to find all the wounds to patch them. It took two hours and their store of wraps.

All the while, Para and Karter sang to me. Brushed my hair. They didn’t ask my name or where I came from or what happened. I think they knew I would speak if I wanted. I didn’t. I only wanted to rest.

Para, always with short blue hair, cut a pair of her shorts and cinched them for me as pants. “Do you think he has any place to stay?”

Karter gave her partner an incredulous look. They both rolled their eyes. “Of course, not.” The taller woman already pushed two bunks together. “Would you like to sleep with us…” She paused, waiting for my name.

Finally, I gave it. “Korac.” Did I want to sleep in a bed with these two women I met a few hours ago? They tended to me and showed me kindness. But I learned not to trust it. I walked to the side of the bed and sat with my legs crossed beside it. “I can sleep here.”

Para looked between us. Her broken heart reflected in her black eyes. She crossed the room to her lover and smiled at her. “We will fetch some extra pillows and a blanket. Make you a proper pallet, Korac.”

Korac. Baby.

Not contaminant.

That night I slept to their gentle breathing. No unkind words. No attempts to molest me. Para talked in her sleep. She muttered sweet nothings to the woman she spent a lifetime admiring.

What a strange day.

Taken from Gait. Beaten within an inch of my life. And shown perfect kindness from two adults who’d yet to tell me their names.

This was paradoxical.

Welcome to Cinder.