Korsha raced around the sanctuary of her master’s command room. Unlike the rest of the apartment which had a minimalistic design, to the point of austerity, the command room was cramped with his command chair placed in the middle of the rooms. Even with the dozens upon dozens of snaking wires, she couldn’t help but smile at their orderliness. If only he could run the Dominion. The Goddess’s empire wouldn’t suffer under its own weight. She ignored the chair, not wishing to drop into the network but instead focused on the console. Pushing the thought aside, she continued her frantic dance of plugging, unplugging and tapping commands.

The cool lights of the screen flashed, lightning turned bloody. Their illuminations stained her and threw long long shadows that loomed behind and eyed her. Her mind was a storm, a jumbled kaleidoscope of creeping fears and bending but unbreakable determination. Her steady hands trembled and she hated herself for it. A soft chirp signaled the deed’s completion. She reached out, fingers poised to grasp hold of the newly minted codices and authenticators.

It was already damning enough she was going to Grimnar but the risk wouldn't be worth it if she was locked out by some simple console. She could almost taste the sharp bite of adrenaline on her tongue, could feel it prickling at her skin, adding a surreal edge to a reality she had never considered. Her fingers ran along the edges of the box that held her keys. She clasped them and pulled. They came free with a hushed click that sealed her fate should the wrong people find her carrying such valuable information.

I have to find Deidra. I have to bring her back to our master. He will understand why I'm doing this. Korsha set the box into her pouch and marched to the door and stopped. Her eyes narrowed. She'd heard something. A icy realization shot through her as her hand shot down to her pistol. That had been the soft sigh of the entry door. Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears like a war drum. Her fingers curled tighter around the chilling grip of her pistol as she lifted it up.

The unwelcome interruption that plunged her into a sea of heightened alertness, each nerve straining, each sense tuned to this potential threat. She was all the more aware of the small weight she'd just added.

Yet, even as she prepared for the worst, Korsha fought to keep her mounting fears in check, her resolve solidifying like ice in the pit of her stomach. Had the assassin returned? What if it was Deidra? With her free hand she clasped the door handle and counted down in her head.

As the countdown drained to its final echoes, Korsha wrenched the door open, her pistol upraised in a two-handed grip. She stared down the barrel, her eyes hard, finger eager. Then she saw the acrena. The familiar outline of his chromatic shell glinted beneath the pale light of the living room. A shuddered breath drew itself from her lips as she loosened the vise grip of fear around her pistol. The threat she had braced for was not an assassin nor a faceless adversary.

"Thatcher?"

"Korsha, it is good to see you." Thatcher said, his synthetic voice drifting across the room as he turned in a jolted graceful motion only the fusion between a living soul and a metallic shell could do. "Is something wrong?"

Korsha slid the pistol back into its holster. A withering fatigue washed over her, reminding her of how long she'd gone without sleep. Yet seeing Thatcher brought a kindly warmth, like the glowing embers of a hearth during a blizzard. She'd never met Thatcher before his body had died, only knowing him through his metallic body and voice. Yet there was a kindliness to him. A gentleness and wisdom that she saw the truly old carry, those who'd given up on living and instead focused the remnant of their life on those who'd still remain after their inevitable passing.

His golden eyes glowed, adding a richness to the otherwise gray room. In those eyes swirled an essence that Death truly must have been eager to take. Crossing the room, Korsha couldn't hold herself back as she threw her arms around Thatcher. Her face pinched, screwing up as the cork of her emotions finally popped. Crystalline tears dripped off her face, a suppressed rainstorm that had surpassed the mountainous defense's of emotionless stoicism. The trickled down her cheeks, rivers bringing life back to a part of her she'd neglected. An abandoned forest, haunted by the ghosts of her past, that had withered up and died. No not died. Only remained dormant. Their seeds had been waiting. Germinating. They'd been patient and eager to return.

How naïve she'd been.

His presence brought with it the same comforting nostalgia of a well-worn story, told by candlelight. In a world that shifted and swirled with uncertainty, Thatcher was a sturdy boulder, an anchoring presence. For Korsha, he was a soothing balm, a wave of warmth that melted away the glaciers within her.

"Korsha. I was activated after I received word of the attempt."

Korsha pulled away, turning her face away from him as she swiped the tears away.

"Any updates?"

"They are working to stabilize him but that's not why I'm here."

The phrase was simple, its meaning far from it. She knew without needing to be told - eyes had turned towards her. She couldn't blame them. Daughter of the Betrayer. A wretched thing whose birth was born from ungratefulness. He master understood that those were not the attitudes that rested within the throne of her mind. Azaelah's corruption and avarice did not dwell in her but the others wouldn't know.

She was a dangling thread in a complex tapestry of interwoven parts, a threat that might mar its grand design. They'd hunt her. Take her and bind her. Force her into a submission she already gave them. Yet they'd see it as false. A needing for purification. This assassination was far more thoughtful than she'd initially anticipated. She was now the hunted, the prey in a game she had never agreed to play.

But in the face of this revelation, Korsha’s resolve hardened. This was not the end. This was the beginning of her race against time. She couldn't let herself be captured. Not when her master's life was hanging by a thread, not when Deidra was still out there.

"You need to leave now. Do you have everything that is necessary?"

Korsha nodded.

"Go. Bring this assassin to face the Goddess's wrath."

Korsha hardened her face. Could she do that? Could she capture and subjugate Deidra to such treatment. Like you already haven't... She spun on her heel. She could make this work. She could have her sister and serve her master too.

Glancing back at Thatcher one last time, she strode across the apartment and went to the door. It slid open. The hall was covered in thick cloying shadows. No that wasn't right...

A clawed hand shot out.

It struck her, sending her tumbling backwards. The shadow stepped into the doorway, a tower of judgement that loomed over her. The inky blackness was pealed away to show the reptillian features of a krisharnikar. Korsha knew right away this was no assassin. It wasn't the technology imbedded into his dull lackluster scales nor was it the amber essence that singed the edges of his eyes as they twisted into the air like incense. It wasn't the dark cloak nor the obfuscation of his features, safe for his elongated jaw, with serrated teeth peering out. It was the chemical stench of krush that solidified the title. He was active. The drug coursing through him.

She felt it in the way the air draped itself around her like a soggy cloak. It smothered her magic's senses. Something she was never truly aware of until it was being actively suppressed.

"And where might Anadrov's faithful servant be going?"

"Ina."

The name rushed out of her unbidden. Fear clawed at her, howling and growling as it tried to flee. Yet she remained fixed. Immobile as the heavy figure of the renowned technomancer stepped forward. Each bootstep was a gavel's fall, slapping against the floor. The claws of his feet exposed and scraping against the soft vulnerable carpet. The deep wrinkles around his eyes darkened, shadows digging in as he eyed her with a hardened suspicion. His eyes glinted, no longer those gifted to him by the goddess but had instead been replaced. A vestige of his former humanity. He was an old friend of her master.

She'd met him before, though he'd been entirely different. Calmer, more calculating but now he was cold and fierce like an avalanche. Before she could utter another word or perhaps defense, his gloved hand shot out, pushing her back into the depths of the living room. His force-field powered glove meeting the material of her jacket created a soft electric hum, a phantom echo of their former camaraderie. She stumbled and fell back into one of the chairs.

“We will have words, you and I." he said, his voice was hard, distant - a chilling contrast to the jovial tone of her memory.

He walked across the room with a predatory eagerness. He stood before her, lingered, eyed her, his hand dropped to his side but then he lowered himself into his chair. A judge seated upon his bench. Even sitting, the aura of his presence asserted itself within the room, demanding all attention remained solely focused upon him and his inescapability. Everything seemed smaller, tighter, more compact. Even the air was denser.

Suffocating.

"You will explain yourself."

"We were attacked."

"By who?"

"An assassin."

"By who!"

His words were sharp and struck her like projectiles, aimed with unerring precision. Korsha pushed herself back yet the chair did not yield, instead forcing her to face Ina. Korsha's fear waned, bleeding away into a crimson rage.

"I watched my master burn because I was weak. If you're going to accuse me, then get on with it or else other matters to attend to."

Ina's lips curved up, lines drawn to reveal his bleached fangs. They were sharp. On the contrary they were worn from use.

"What matters would that be?"

Korsha cursed herself, her birth and everything that had led her to this moment. There was nothing she was going to say or do that would exonerate her in the eyes of a technomancer.

"I'm going to find the assassin."

"And join her."

Korsha froze. Her. He'd said 'her'. How much did the others know already? Had her master been awake long enough to give them a testimony? Wouldn't he have given her answers?

"I would never betray my master."

"That's what your kind said about the Imperial Goddess. May her reign be eternal."

"May her reign be eternal." Korsha echoed, closing her eyes as she lifted her face. Following the instructions the technomancer's had imprinted into her mind.

"Your kind don't understand loyalty. Betrayal runs in your veins."

"I was born of two parents who were loyal to the Goddess. They await me in the temple of her radiance."

Ina nodded and then let out a low growl. "They may have crafted your body but your soul was woven by Azaelah."

Korsha could feel the invisible noose tightening around her, the cold walls of the apartment closing in. She had to figure a way out of this, yet there was no other way, save through Ina. She regarded the old lizard. He was weathered, world-weary and yet there was a steadfastness to him. Like a boulder placed in rushing waters, the world seemed to bend around him.

Without her powers there was no way she was going to be able to escape him. Even with her powers, she wasn't sure she could take him. His species was stronger, faster and more resilient than her own. Even with his apparent age, she didn't know how that equation balanced out. Nor did she fully understand the effects of krush upon a technomancer's system.

"Korsha," Thatcher's voice burst through the room and created a safety net between she and Ina, "I require your assistance."

Korsha slid her head to the side, but not so much she couldn't keep an eye on Ina.

"Go attend to Thatcher. I will be waiting."

Korsha blinked as she bit her lip. Her thoughts were sluggish as confusion sloshed through her mind. Doing what came naturally, she rose and obeyed the command. She ventured into the back bedroom where Thatcher's voice had come from. She entered the room and found Thatcher standing by an open window. He held a hand to his smooth molded face. With the other he gestured towards the window.

Korsha glanced back but saw that Ina had no line of sight on her. Wordlessly, she approached, hugged Thatcher one last time and climbed out the window and dropped down into the dark abyss below.