Of the many things made cheap and ubiquitous by magic, Unity held the Crux’s shower systems above all in worth.

Built into the very superstructure of the building, they worked by collecting water from condensation of the city’s famous mists. Or, in less humid months, simply gathering rain.

The water would be funnelled through pipes, moved to a single great container and sterilised by the efforts of several mystics boiling it with their own powers. It would then condense again, move to another container and await release.

A grid of arcfire crystals would filter it just before reaching the showers themselves, releasing their magic imperfectly as heat and ensuring the fluid was warm as it met the bathers’ flesh.

Unity thought of the mechanism as he cleaned himself. Thought back to seeing it first announced just five years prior. He’d been amazed as all others, then. Only found out later that the design had been purchased from the luminar of Singulatiry, not coined by the Alliance themselves.

It had been a blow to his young self, who’d marvelled so much at the genius of Unixian science. But then he’d been naive enough to feel the sting of disappointment so often in those days.

Disappointment, but delight too.

When the pit did I become such a miserable bastard? He mused, running a hand through his hair.

Unity had been washing himself for nearly a quarter hour, leaving a bloody smear by his feet where the water mingled with detached gore. He tried not to look at it, found the sight churned his guts no matter how many times he did.

It was made worse by the fact that, though the drains were surely drinking in blood with every passing moment, it seemed to remain constant in size.

Something dislodged from Unity’s scalp, spongy and marble-sized. Stuck tight enough for him to feel the pull as it left.

Unable to help himself, he watched the gory chunk as it fell by his feet. Felt bile creep up from his belly at the sight of blood-sodden brain tissue.

Bim’s brain. Covered in Bim’s blood.

The thought was too big for his mind to hold, too heavy for his heart to bear. He released it quickly, turned his eyes upwards to the ceiling and continued scrubbing himself- scraping his skin to the point of pain.

It was another distraction from the mess lying at his feet, and Unity drank it in greedily.

Not greedily enough. His mind wandered again, moving through months and years. Heading, as it always did, towards the earliest moments of his life as the Eden child. The first mistakes he’d ever made.

Mistakes. Funny how I think of them like that, as if they were somehow accidental.

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Among the earliest of them had been some meeting with a Prince’s son. He could remember the boy clearly. Tall, with a pinched face and carefully messy hair. Brown eyes. The child had been just a year older than Unity. An arsehole, even at that age.

Unity had tried to get his approval, idiot that he was. Not understood at that tender age that some people simply made the choice to dislike others and couldn’t be dissuaded from it. Understood even less how peculiar his idea of fun had been.

The cat had deserved killing. It had been a vicious thing, cruel and mean as any he’d seen before or since. Even eight years later Unity wasn’t sorry. But he did regret it. Regreted doing so in front of that snooty, self-absorbed piece of shit child with his leaky rectum of a mouth, at least.

Rumours had spread, stories had flown. Testaments had been exaggerated and twisted by the thrill of a spotlight. Mere weeks after that Unity had noticed an altogether different sort of look reaching him from the staff and custodians employed for his care.

He’d not recognised it then, not realised it for the warning it was. Not had anyone willing to explain to him why what he did was wrong.

Of course he hadn’t, such measures weren’t the Alliance way. They’d covered his nature up, obfuscated and obscured it. Kept it hidden behind layers of false testimony and propaganda all without bothering to deal with the cause.

Another sickening clump detached from deep within his hair, giving Unity pause as he found himself wondering just how many had gotten stuck there. Perhaps he ought to have it cut.

It was a poor distraction from his recollection.

Despite all that had happened over the years, Unity realised he couldn’t blame the Alliance. They’d seen what few others would have. Looked past his wits and beautiful face, recognised a monster when they saw it.

Not fooled themselves into believing he was within the realm of salvation.

He washed for a while longer, skin tender by the time he was done, scratched raw and red even without the blood coating it. Unity barely noticed, finding his mind assailed by greater pain than his body.

Greater pain, and enough uncertainty that it was impossible to think of anything else.

***

Astra had had more to say.

She remembered that much, at least. Be it to continue convincing Crow or to bring up another point of contention entirely was beyond her recollection.

Her head swam like a whirlpool, thought far beyond her faculties in their distorted state. She’d barely noticed being moved from Deka’s room to her own, and even an hour later the dizziness was a fog before her mind.

It had cleared enough for the pain to be undiminished, though. Dull, steady. Like an athlete’s heartbeat. She could identify the worst of her injuries by feel alone even without lifting a finger.

Astra would have welcomed the pain as a distraction, were there anything that could keep her mind from the task at all. Bitterness rose in her like smoke from a fire. Thick, toxic. Choking.

It was easy.

The thought kept returning to the forefront of Astra’s mind, burning like only truth could. It left no room for comforting delusions.

Amelia had been an obstacle, in her eyes. That had been her greatest mistake. A wiser girl would have seen her as a dead end. A wiser one still would have kept from testing herself so desperately to begin with.

Pain lanced Astra’s side as she shifted slightly, sending a trembling cry to escape her lips. Stifled to a mewl just in time to keep it from sparking yet more torment.

She lay still and quiet. Wallowing in her misery, unable to do anything else.