{Gait}

Korac wasted no time. “Tumu. Come on. Let’s go.”

The Tritan stopped mid-reach for another shelf full of capsules. “How… how did you know I was in here?”

The Icarus rolled his eyes and spread his arms to indicate the vault. “After your ‘overthrow the Emperor’ speech, I followed you here. I was astounded you let the Lyriks run by while you cowered in the shadows like Remorse. But then again, you are a Tritan Primary. Now. Come. On.”

Tumu returned to his task of collecting the memories of others. “I’m in the middle of important work, and I assigned watch to you and Pehton—”

A female voice shrieked through the Emporium.

Korac let the urgency into his voice. “She’s holding them back with everything in her. I need in the prison, and you’re the only person who can grant me access.”

Tumu’s black voids shimmered and his voice boomed, “Right.” The Tritan hurried by the Icarus to the stairs.

Not fast enough.

Korac rushed on his wings to lift the thirteen-foot alien who rewarded him with a not so Tritan yelp of surprise. Carrying the blue alien, they busted through all the tarping that covered the eyesore in the glass ceiling. Courtesy of Tameka. The ziggurat loomed only a block away. Beyond a minefield of conduits.

Sagan.

“What do we need from the prison?” Tumu’s tone implied he already guessed the answer.

The Icarus dodged a swift Overseer while soaring through signs projected on the sky. “We’re freeing Nox. He has experience in subduing Lyriki uprisings.”

The Tritan fell silent and didn’t say a word when they alighted. He marched over to the blood seal and—

“Wait just a damned minute.”

Tameka.

Shit.

The striking young woman alighted, with her fiery hair blazing in the sunrise. Korac sincerely approved of the yellow dress and envied her tawny skin tone to pull it off.

The Sovereign Ambassador glared at him with those stained glass eyes. Korac respected Tameka’s reservations about his relationship with Sagan. The girls were close and meant the worlds to each other. It reminded him of a certain friendship. Which was why the General needed to free his King. Her feelings about Korac paled compared to the pure acrimony she felt for Nox. Rightfully so.

That wouldn’t stop Korac from freeing the Icarus.

Tameka’s voice dripped with scorn. “You’re waking Nox, aren’t you?”

Korac cursed. There was no time for this.

While engaging the seal, Tumu vouched over his shoulder, “Peaches, we need his help.”

She strode regally across the street to the prison’s entrance. “I know. That’s why I’m here. If this nacre contains a version of him from before his little epiphany about choosing the wrong side, then I’ll drain him on the spot.” The door opened ahead of her, but she turned to give Korac her full attention. “Are we clear?”

“On Elden, if I can’t sway him, I won’t stand in your way.” Korac retracted his wings and pulled strands of his hair from his face. She turned away, but he stopped her. “Sovereign Ambassador? May I borrow an item of convenience?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Tumu coughed, but he couldn’t hide the tight chuckle in it from the General’s keen ears.

“Nice, Tumu.” Apparently not from hers either. Tameka held out a pen. “This is all I’ve got.”

Korac took it with a grateful nod and twisted it in his hair.

The young woman’s glare hardened more, if that were possible. “I think… I think I hate you.”

The Tritan already waited at the lift. “Pehton. In danger. No time to waste. Etcetera.”

“Stop by my cell, I need to grab clothes.” He smirked ever so faintly at the Sovereign Ambassador. “I’m sure he’ll be naked.”

She rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue.

“Although, I’ve little confidence I own anything that will fit him.”

Tumu chuffed. “We always wondered why Nox’s size enhanced so much more than his people.”

Tameka looked away. Korac kept his face neutral. They both knew from Nox’s Verse that Primary Rem performed experiments on him from childhood. Possibly birth. Was there a chance Tumu really didn’t know that?

The Tritan in question announced, “Infernus Block. Next stop, the big cell. Don’t take your time.”

Korac rushed off the lift to his cell. Once through the nacre deterring barrier, a proverbial brick wall smacked him in the face. The space smelled of Sagan.

“If I can’t have you, I’ll settle for ruining you.”

Razor.

Korac prayed to Elden that the Pain Curator failed, but then he remembered her screams in the Seam. So much loss and terror—

Submitting to this kind of thinking endangered their mission. He shook away the horrors in his mind and rummaged through the racks and trunks. He sought the most stretchy materials. A kilt might do. Wait. This was the exact kilt Korac wore the two years prior to his incarceration. How the fuck was Lucas—

“I don’t mean to pry into your intimate business, but you’re important to my sister. I want to understand you.” Tameka apparently followed him.

Unnerved by the wardrobe mystery, Korac shoved his concerns, the kilt, and a few other articles in one of Sagan’s bags. Grabbing the sheet as a last resort, he spared her a glance. “Yes?”

In that glance, he witnessed the most enviable blush on her dark freckled cheeks. Tameka spit the words out all at once, “Is it true that you always ask for her consent before sex?”

“Yes.” Korac hid his amused smirk that Sagan evidently shared details of their sex life with one of her closest friends. “Any other specifics you want to hear from me?” He walked straight through the barrier she stood outside and waited for her to follow him.

Tameka stood firm for the next one. Her eyes saw straight through him. “Do you love her?” She twirled her pendant anxiously.

Was this really an appropriate time for this conversation? The Shadow involved their feelings in professional matters far too often, but something in her tender young features beseeched Korac. His answer mattered. How best to give it? He went with the Icarean expression. “I kissed over her nacre.”

Her eyes widened. So. Xelan taught Tameka the significance of that gesture. Interesting. Not important right now. “The Executive Warden waits.”

This time, Tameka ran alongside Korac to the lift. Tumu disabled the nacre barrier on the lowest floor, and they entered the big cell. Korac hoped for the last time.

The Tritan approached the resurrection casket first. “You think it’s my blood, yes?”

Korac nodded to it. “The blood of a Primary at least.”

Tameka kept her distance from the device, but her sharp gaze never left it. “Ready when you are.”

“Right.” Tumu rolled up the sleeve on his robes and pressed his palm to the seal. It pricked his blue skin.

They held their breath.

Nothing happened for several heartbeats.

The Tritan shook his head and stepped back. “Sorry. It’s not mine. Then, whose?”

Korac hovered his hand on the seal. “Mine. As the Sovereign Ambassador declared earlier, I am the most likely candidate to reinstate him. And they confined me in here with him for a reason.”

Pressed. Pricked. Bled.

Nothing.

Tameka put a hand on her hip, clicked her tongue, and sighed. While twirling her pendant, she assured, “Well, I am quite certain it won’t be me. But I’m willing—”

“The answer is so obvious. How could it allude me for this long?”

“What?”

Tumu also caught on. He held out his hand for Tameka. “Peaches, I need your chain.”

Korac explained, “Your pendant. The key is Rayne’s blood.”

The young woman clutched the pendant with a frown. “Why?” Suspicion hardened her voice to match the glare.

He took a deep, calming breath. There wasn’t time for this, but he refused to provide ammunition for her hesitation. “Like in the nacre chamber, Celindria’s blood freed T.a.o. from that resurrection casket. Yet Rayne’s blood sufficed. Here, Rayne is the least feasible person to free Nox. But Celindria might.”

Reticent, Tameka kissed the pendant before giving it away to them. “Be careful with that. It’s a one-use only situation.”

“Of course.” Cautiously, the Tritan poured every drop on the seal and stepped back once more.

This time, there was no wait.

The amber nacre in the casket spun. They held their breath and watched with trepidation. Tameka, at the ready to drain Nox dry. Tumu, out of curiosity. And Korac, atoning for a sin that weighed heavily on his allegiance.

To repay Nox for never realizing the full breadth of the burden his King carried for six million years.

Tameka whispered, “Let’s hope the kilt fits.”

Indeed.