The transport rumbled, treads crunching ice, kicking up a flurried haze behind it. The sound wore on Korsha, casting her mind into the inky stillness beneath the icy wastes. She allowed her mind to linger there. Better in the dark waters than upon the dark shadows they drew ever closer to.

Grimnar.

Korsha's eyes rose, drawn up by her supposed mother. Her curiosity had taken hold of her, driving her to question the bamnarstat about why he'd say such a thing.

"We are born of mothers but created by places." Was all he did to elucidate his people's custom.

Her eyes narrowed becoming slits that plunged all into blackness, save for the faintest edge of the horizon. She didn't do this to protect herself from the wind that slashed at her cheeks and grasped at her hood, fingers racing in and trying to grab at her white braid. No, she'd done it to barricade herself against the memories that were now laying siege to her.

She ground her teeth and forced herself to look. Grimnar was a black scar upon the land -jagged tumorous metal that had crawled into the lake and laid down its poisonous foundations. Yet as she eyed its broken ruined appearance, its half body slumped into the murky waters, a deep sense of connection knotted itself in the pit of her stomach before being cast out, lashing itself to the structure. There was a deep bond between them. One shared by only broken things.

Minutes later the transport ground to a halt, its growling gasping engine filling the silence that hung around this place. Korsha paid the bamnarstat his due and gave him instructions for her pickup. She stood as withered ashen snowflakes fell around her. The bamnarstat was gone within minutes leaving her alone to face the ghosts of her past.

Turning she eyed the colossal gaping hole in the ice. The frigid waters were sluggish, seeming to be barely affected by the winds. Dropping her hood, she gaze in contempt at the old dilapidated building. As her eyes scanned snapped titanium beams and crumpled walls, she caught sight of a door. That's where she'd start.

Grabbing the seeker from her pouch, Korsha lifted it up and spoken the sacred words. The orb glinted in the pale sickly sunlight. Tethering herself up to it, she allowed herself to be pulled along. The seeker shot out, racing along the ground. Then jutting up. Korsha's boot slapping against a pillar as she ascended. Clearing, it arced through the air. Korsha followed, the gusts of wind seizing at her cloak. She scream, part from thrill, part terror, as her flew over the water abyss.

She landed, rolled to bleed off her momentum and jumped to her feet. A grin pressed up against her cheeks as she glanced back at the waters. A shiver raced down her spine and she turned away. Now facing the door, she stepped forward. Grabbing the box from her pack she slid the codices into her omnivice. She was pleased to when the door split a moment later. It groaned aside, the burden of its exposure grinding it to a halt and leaving only a gap just big enough for her.

Stepping inside, she motioned to the seeker who followed. Grabbing the orb once more she gave it instructions. This time envisioning the one place she'd hated above all others: her room. The seeker bobbed through the air before taking off. Korsha, tethered once more, sprinted behind it its wake.

They made their way down gray halls adorned with the images of imperial effigies. Hard angled statues whose grim demeanor was a dour reminder of the calloused heartless tyrants who'd once ran this place. Once upon a time, Korsha would have been terrified to sprint down the halls. Even in the emptiness, with only the seeker and her echoed footsteps as her companions, that old familiar dread coiled tightly in her chest within her. Part of her eyed every corner, waiting for a technomancer to step out and berate her.

Yet there was no one.

They turned down halls, entered the old cafeteria who's white featureless interior had become marred by dirt and rust. Each hall and room wore on Korsha's mind. She'd promised herself she'd never look back. The day her master had called her to his side, to join him in his quest to establish his house amongst those who were considered the greatest, had been the best day of her life. She blinked. Second best...

The seeker veered around a corner, jarring her from her thoughts. Her brow furrowed. This wasn't the right way. Unless a shortcut had been created by the explosions. Trusting the seeker, she allowed it to continued to lead her. The seeker bobbed and weaved down corridors. Korsha's mental map wasn't lining up with their progress. They'd backtracked several times only to set upon the right path again and again. It was as though the seeker was conflicted but she'd never experienced that before.

Korsha released her hold and allowed the momentum to bleed off as she came to a stop. She called the seeker back to her. Grabbing the shell she cracked it open. Once more the whirlwind of azure moths beat their wings against the air in a hushed cacophony of whispers.

"I give you..." Korsha trailed off as all the moths tumbled down the hall like a flood. Their small bodies poured into the lone door at the middle of the hall. "What in the nine?"

Taking a moment, Korsha examined her surroundings. She noted the fine red carpet with angular golden borders on the floor. Torches, their stubs burned to cinders, adorned the walls. Taking a step back, Korsha's eyes widened as she realized she was standing in the hall before the altar room. It was in that room that the moths and poured into.

Taking a deep breath, she inched forward. The altar room had been the her second least favorite place within the Academy. It was here that she'd learned to acknowledge her damnation and aspire for atonement. It was here that the technomancer's words bit the deepest like fangs puncturing one's soul. It was here that they taught her what it meant to be broken with nothing else but her ability to rest upon her knees and repent to the imperial goddess.

Every morning.

Every evening.

Sun up.

Sun down.

Year and year.

Approaching the doorway, Korsha reached out a trembling hand and clasped its frame. She lingered there, eyes closed as she gathered the courage within her. It was scarce. A commodity easily used up and expended. She chose indignation instead. It's heat singed the numbness, bringing out the pain she'd endured. From this humiliation, the constant questioning of her loyalty and servitude, Korsha drew upon that ancient elixir and drank her fill.

She burst through the entryway, marching down the center aisle between prayer benches. The indignation drained out of her as though she were a sieve, instead replaced by the thick miasma of horror. On the opposite wall stood a life-sized effigy of the imperial goddess, her strong facial features illuminated by an ethereal beauty that filled the entire hall with a golden glow. The walls of the room were crafted from highly polished marble, and a brilliantly colored frieze depicting one of her legendary adventures shone brightly in the reflection of her light. There, situated on the lower portion of the Goddess's body was a person. Their emaciated arms were splayed out as they were bound to the effigy by chains of power that crackled and spat as though made from tamed fire. Their body dangled from the chains, slumping towards the ground.

Morbid curiosity clung to her as she now inched forward. Each step light and eager to retreat. Her throat was dry, parchment paper ready to tear at a moment's notice. The figure was nearly three times her size. Their skin was like that of fine ash that flowed across their wasted and ruined body. Was this the spirit of Grimnar? Korsha's mind thought back to the spirit in the store house she'd sensed in Urst-Bajin. That didn't make sense.

What was stranger still was the large mask that adorned the being's face. Its shape was like that of an upside down triangle, but every detail had been intricately carved from fine oak and lacquered a dark red to resemble sinews and bone. Small bells hung from strings about it and tinkled slightly as they moved. Just as the shaman's had been a long strip of cloth fell from beneath it. An avian face adorned its features; wicked feathers dotted the upper portion of the mask, curling downward toward a great protruding beak-like nose so artfully formed that it might almost have been real skin.

"Vel'korsha'rahnan."

Korsha froze, the chained figure shifted. The mask rising.

"How do you know my full name?"

"Such things are not hidden from beings like us."

"You're an aspect."

The moths burst forth swarming around the being in a maelstrom. Korsha came forward. This must have been one of the yaejik's gods. The reason the world was still classified as a crusader world. As she approached, Korsha realized that the god had been impaled with several spears. One in each hand and another in his feet. Their black oily surface writhed like trapped smog.

"What happened?"

"A shadow came to claim something. I, as well as many others, failed to stop it."

A tremble coursed through Korsha's gut.

"Did the shadow have crimson hair?"

"No. The shadow isn't the one you seek."

Curiosity overcame her.

"What did the shadow do?"

"It stole from the Imperial Goddess her dishonored children."

"That's why they enacted the asset denial protocol."

"Your tech mages tried bringing this place down around them but I intervened." The god's head dropped, "I know what it is like to be reviled. To be ill used and hated. Death shouldn't be their fate. This was not their choice."

"You saved the children?"

"Only in one sense. They were taken, disappearing into the eternal sea above. They lived but I do not know if I truly saved them."

"They punished you for saving their lives?"

"Your godslayers punished me for interfering. For allowing... assets to be stolen."

Nausea rose up in Korsha. Her choked her, threatening to bring her to her knees.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I was lonely. I wanted to see another and know that the universe has not yet been settled. I wouldn't want to be a lingering thought, discarded and cast a drift on an eternal mind whose purpose has already been chosen."

Korsha blinked not understand.

"I apologize. These are not things that should concern your kind. I just wanted to see another's face. You may go and finish your heart's searching."

The moths broke away, they rushed passed her in a unfelt flurry. Korsha lingered, not knowing what to do but sensing there was nothing else for her here, she turned and left. The image of the chained god was burned into her mind. It hovered there, etching itself upon her heart. Who was this shadow? What had happened to the children? She shook the questions off. Now wasn't the time for such things. She'd report them to her master once she'd finished this nasty business.

She followed her moths down the halls of the academy, each worn gray step and imperial saint a memory. She slowed to a crawl as though moving through water. Korsha came to a stop when she reached one she recognized.

This was it.