I do not want this burden.

But for them, I will take it.

-Arath Dralei, circa 2,896 Post Fall of Meridian

A grin sprouted on Arrus’ face immediately after Perelor spoke. Ithrey, though, leaned forward, lips pursed.

“And how serious are you about this, Captain?”

“Very.”

“Would you travel to Torment itself? For this may require your life. Your life, and more.”

I’ve already given my life to her, Perelor thought. But he just gave Ithrey a curt nod. At some point, she’d simply have to believe that he meant what he said.

And, though she stared at him for several seconds with that critical gaze of hers, she did eventually nod back to him. “Good enough. Given the circumstances, I will work with whatever I am given.” She gestured for him to sit beside Arrus. Perelor bristled — Okron, he’d gotten more used to giving orders than he’d thought — but knelt on the cot by his friend.

“I was just telling Arrus,” Ithrey said, “that we need a plan. I’ve been too focused on surviving to make one, but I can’t stall any longer.”

Perelor frowned. “You don’t have a plan?”

“Not yet,” Ithrey said. “But I will soon. What I need most from you is information. I’ve been here only a few hours, but you’ve been here years. How do we escape? And what are the obstacles?”

Perelor shivered, instinctively looking about to see if any guards had noticed. There were some nearby, though they all seemed preoccupied.

You’re going to have to get over that fear. Escape is necessary, if you’re going to find her. It was something he’d known for a long time, but he still felt his heart race. The last time had gone so horribly wrong…

“There’s kind of a lot of them,” Arrus said, interrupting Perelor’s thoughts. “I mean, I don’t know of any way we could get through the wormhole.”

“The wormhole is secondary,” Ithrey said. “First we need to reach my brother, on the north pole of the planet. Once we’ve found him, he’ll help us get the rest of the way. I’m sure of it.”

Perelor frowned. “If he knows a way out, why hasn’t he taken it already?”

Ithrey opened her mouth to respond, then shut it. “I… don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t know a way out.” She frowned. “But I know we’ll be in a far better position if we can get to him. We might not need to escape at all, actually. If we can get a signal out to him, he can rescue us.”

“He can take down the entire Talar army?” Perelor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s a memory burner,” Ithrey said. She continued on as if that explained everything. “Those cameras we’re given, can they send a signal?”

“They’re encoded,” Arrus interjected, frowning. “I can’t send a signal anywhere but the Talar comms center. Everything runs through that. It’s heavily guarded, and I can’t even access the database there without a security key.” He folded his arms. “I wonder, though, if I disassembled a camera…”

“They’d know,” Perelor said. “We can’t hide a half-broken camera.”

“No,” Ithrey agreed. “Not easily, at least.” She seemed significantly less annoyed now. Still tense, but focused. “Could we somehow get into the comms room?”

Perelor glanced toward Arrus. “You’re the expert on that.”

Arrus shrugged. “Maybe? It’s heavily guarded, that’s for sure. We’d need to deal with those guards somehow. If you could get me close, I might be able to access the comms, then send out a signal. But the moment I do that, they’ll know. I’d have to fry the entire system after using it to cover our tracks, and even that will only buy us a little time while their comms are down.” His expression grew solemn. “If we failed, we’d die. And I can’t even guarantee it would work.”

“We’d need better than that,” Ithrey said. “I can’t risk failing. Too much depends on it. If we can for certain get the signal out, I’m willing to try it; Alaran can save us. But I need to be certain that we can succeed before I do anything like that.” She turned to Perelor. “The guards. Where are the weaknesses?”

“Weaknesses? Well, you’re going to be searing disappointed if you think the Talar are just going to let us walk out,” Perelor said. The words came out just a little too angry. Get used to the idea of escape. “The guards are far better equipped than we are. There’s at least three Surgewielders on duty at all times, especially around me and Arrus. And two dozen other soldiers, all with rifles and armor. They’ve put trackers in your blood, too, they would’ve done that when you got your Surge. If we get through all of that, there’s still Cyrla to deal with.” He frowned. “I can’t see any way we could fight through all of that. Not… well, not unless we got the rest of the camp to fight with us.”

Flames.

Blood.

Screams.

Rubble.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

Ithrey blinked. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Anyway, I don’t see any way to slip out unnoticed. Certainly no guaranteed way.”

Ithrey leaned back, biting her lip, tapping her finger against her knee. “This is too much,” she said, low enough Perelor was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. “I can’t do this.” She shook her head. “The guards at the tower. How many are there?”

“At least a dozen,” Arrus said. “Not to mention an entire army around them if they find out what we’re doing.”

“We can distract a dozen,” Ithrey muttered. “Wouldn’t be easy, but I think I could cause enough of a disturbance for that.” She met Arrus’ eyes. “Is there any way you can guarantee that signal goes through? The galaxy may well depend on it.”

Arrus’ brow creased for a moment. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened. “Ryla,” he whispered.

“Who?”

“Ryla. The memory burner girl. She’s my cousin.”

Perelor whirled to face Arrus. “Your cousin?”

“Long story.” He paused. “I… doubt she’d be willing to help us directly, honestly.” He frowned, though that frown quickly turned to an impish grin. “Her credentials will work on the comms tower, though. I’m sure of that. All I need is to get her passcode out of her.”

“How hard would that be?” Ithrey asked.

Arrus snorted. “Easy. Ryla is gullible.”

“We’re going to trust a Talar noble to help us?” Perelor asked. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“None of this is a good idea,” Ithrey noted. “It’s just our only chance.” Her frown deepened.

“She’d only indirectly help us,” Arrus pressed. “She won’t even know she is, probably. She trusts me way too much.”

“She’s still part of Larsh’s memory burner cohort,” Perelor said. “Arrus, if Larsh reads her and finds out I’m planning something — anything — we’re all dead. Larsh is the only reason Cyrla can’t just execute us here and now.”

“I know. I’ll be careful. Trust me.”

Trust me, Crelang had said. We just need a good enough plan.

Perelor swallowed. “Be careful. Please.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I will.”

Ithrey cleared her throat. “So you’re saying the option to contact Alaran is more viable now?”

“I think so. I’ll need a few days to get that passkey. But after that, we can certainly try it.”

“We’ll need to do more than try,” Ithrey said. “We’ll need to plan, and then succeed. But a delay gives me time to scout out the camp. It should be fine.” She straightened. “We’ll plan on that, then. And go from there.”

Perelor folded his arms. “And the Voidling? It’s not gone, you know. The memory burner — Ryla — only took out one of its two Surges.”

A hush fell over the camp. “I don’t know if there’s any way we can deal with that,” Arrus finally said.

“It could kill us all,” Perelor said. “Cyrla can’t kill us directly, but she can have the Voidling do it. The moment it’s back to full strength, we’re dead.”

“That’ll take a while,” Ithrey said. “Weeks, probably.”

How do you know that? Perelor thought. But she seemed sure, and honestly, a part of him didn’t want to know.

“Still,” he said. “What do we do if it tries to kill us? Or if Cyrla tries to? Torment, if Larsh tries to?”

Silence, again. Then Ithrey spoke.

“We die.”

“And can you accept that?” Perelor asked. “This plan is all we have, but it’s not a foolproof one.”

Ithrey shivered, eyes drifting to the ground. “We won’t take any unnecessary risks,” she said.

“There will still be risks,” Perelor said. “Risks that could end with all of us laying limp in pools of blood. Risks that would mean the end of not just us, but hope itself.”

“Perelor,” Arrus interrupted. “We don’t have to discuss all the gritty…”

Perelor raised a hand. “I need her to understand,” he said. “I need you both to understand. I’ve tried this before. It failed. It failed so spectacularly that a part of me still wishes I’d killed myself rather than face the consequences. So, Valeo, do you understand the cost if this doesn’t work?”

Ithrey hesitated, her eyes lingering on the ground a moment longer. Then she met Perelor’s gaze.

“Yes. I’ll do what I have to.”

Perelor studied her for a moment, then turned to Arrus. “And you?”

Arrus shrugged. “What choice do we have?”

“None,” Perelor said. “Which is why we all have to agree.” He sighed, relaxing. “I don’t know of any better plan. This seems foolhardy, but anything we try will be, and this at least has a chance.”

“It’s settled then,” Ithrey said. She stood, stretching. “I’m going to go talk to the other men. I’m not familiar with all of them, but I think there are some whom we can trust.”

Perelor twitched uncomfortably. “People sell out easily here. How confident are you they won’t rat us out?”

“They are Miradorans. We will be fine.”

“People break here,” Perelor said. “Are you sure?”

“Sure enough,” Ithrey said coolly. “And that should be enough for you, Captain. You said you would follow me to Torment itself, did you not? Well, then you need to trust me with this.”

Perelor tensed, but forced himself to nod. “Alright. Fine.” He looked away. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to sleep.” He doubted he actually would, but he wanted this conversation to be over.

Ithrey nodded, though Perelor could see her staring at him as he turned away, eyes ever analytical. Eventually she nodded. “Good enough,” he thought he heard her mutter. “It will have to be good enough.” She gave a quick wave to Arrus, then walked away.

“Searing woman,” Perelor said when she was away.

Arrus frowned. “I think she’s alright.”

“That’s the problem,” Perelor said. “I want to hate her, but I can’t. She’s an ally. She’s just an annoying one.” He shook his head. “So much chaos… I’m wondering if I should’ve just killed her at the start.”

Arrus winced, falling silent. Perelor closed his eyes, weariness setting in even more than it had after the fight with the Voidling. He hadn’t slept for what? Forty-eight hours? And he’d been fighting most of that time.

Despite his physical exhaustion, his mind still raced. Why hadn’t he killed Ithrey? He hadn’t known she would have information about his sister. He didn’t even like the woman.

Yet those tears on her face… she acted strong now, but he’d seen her, on the verge of death. When the facade had all come falling down.

She’d looked just like his sister had. Young and afraid.

“Do you think we can do this?”

Perelor turned back to Arrus. He’d lain down on his cot, and he was staring up at the smoky sky, tapping a finger against his chest. He paused.

“Hopefully,” he replied.

“I mean, I hope we can, too. But do you think we’ll actually succeed?”

There was a long silence. “Yes,” Perelor said finally. It was a lie, but he said it. “I mean, she’s prophesied to save humankind, right? So it makes sense that we’ll win. Fate is on our side.”

As if that’s ever made a difference before. Yet for Arrus, he could lie.

“I hope you’re right,” Arrus said. He yawned. “You were right about sleep, at least. I’m going to try to get some. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Arrus rolled over, and Perelor began settling into his own cot. A few moments later, though, Arrus turned back over.

“Thank you for caring,” he said, voice soft. “I know you try not to care, and with the others you do a pretty good job of it. But thank you for caring about me, at least. It’s made more of a difference than you could know.”

“If anything I should thank you,” Perelor said. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

That, too, was a lie. He knew exactly where he’d be: Torment. He closed his eyes. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah.” Arrus rolled back over. Perelor, though, reopened his eyes. Stared at the smoke, blocking out the stars.

“I wish I could believe you weren’t doing this to hurt me,” he whispered. “Every other chance I’ve been given has gone wrong.” He let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “But I will try. One more time. Only one more, but I will try.”

Keep your sister safe, son.

One last try.

He closed his eyes. Despite everything, sleep came.

***

“Where do you think it came from?”

The question came from the soldier sitting beside Ithrey, a man with a scraggly beard and haunted eyes. Terenat, was his name. He was a good man; Ithrey had known him back when she was merely captain of the Miradoran Palace Guard.

Silence swept over the others. There were only a few left, and though Ithrey knew those missing would be replaced the next day, she was still disturbed by how few remained. If she asked any of these men to help her, would they even be alive by the time Arrus got that code?

For that matter, how many could she let die before she couldn’t take it any longer? She wouldn’t let Larsh know anything about Aiedra’s plans, but there was always suicide, if it meant more of her men would live.

The Endowed, she reminded herself. Besides, it’s Larsh’s fault they’re dying, not yours.

“I don’t know,” one of the others said finally. A man with close-cut brown hair, holding a thin, crumpled picture of his wife. Irivan. Ithrey didn’t know how he’d smuggled the picture in, nobody else she’d seen had any of their possessions. He turned to meet Ithrey’s eyes. “I’m not sure it matters. The real question is how we get out of here. What’s your plan, General?”

Ithrey hesitated. Are you sure? Perelor’s voice echoed in her ears. “I don’t have one yet,” she lied.

Irivan waved a hand. “It doesn’t have to be all done, General. But we just saw you talking with the Captain. We know you’re planning something.”

“The Captain and I were only discussing command structure,” Ithrey said. “He has agreed that, though he will remain a figurehead to the Talar, I am in command.”

Irivan frowned. “That’s good, I guess. We need to escape, though.” He swept his eyes over the soldiers. “We all agree on that much, right?”

Ithrey hesitated. If these men tried a mutiny, it could ruin everything she and Perelor had just planned. She cleared her throat.

“We are not going to try anything just yet. I need more data on these camps before I can make an informed decision on our course of action. Understood?”

The men nodded, though Irivan seemed hesitant. Maybe I’ll have to talk to him later, Ithrey thought.

Except, she hardly knew the man. She’d fought with him a few times, but not enough to trust him with something like this. In fact, as she looked over her men, she realized that was true for all of them.

She knew their names. Knew their faces. But she did not know them. She restrained a sigh.

The life of a Seeker is a lonely one.

She rose from her seat, bidding the men goodnight. She probably should’ve stayed longer, but today had been unimaginably tiring, even with the added strength her Purity gave her.

Idly she reached back, fingering the jewel now embedded into the back of her neck. She’d wielded Purity Surges before, but never had one surgically implanted. It felt strange, uncomfortable. But then, so did slavery.

Her mind raced, trying to patch the holes in their plan. It was possible it would work. But only possible.

She needed better than possible. She needed guarantees.

Behind her, the men were talking about their families, back home. Calmly pretending as if they were fine. Acting as if they hadn’t just walked into a death trap. Yet they would die all the same. Okron, she was beginning to understand Perelor’s worry.

She sat down on her designated cot, trembling. She stared down at her feet, trying not to see the insectoid helms of the Talar guards, gleaming in the light of the cook fires. In the distance, though, she could hear plasma fire. Never-ending shrieks. Just like on Mirador, during the invasion there. How long had it been since Ithrey had had a moment of quiet?

Too long. She placed her head in her hands, rubbing her face, pulling herself together. Now, of all times, she could not afford to be weak.

“Hope conquers fear,” she whispered. “Hope conquers fear. The Endowed will come. The prophecy will be fulfilled.

“Hope conquers fear.”

The words granted her enough calm that, finally, sleep came.