Airo made another command room meeting. Like the simulations predicted, the situation had become dire, and many tactical paradigms needed readjustment. He was even considering to replace the Order's whole warfare doctrine; they simply didn't have enough sapients-power to continue following their current strategy.

The meeting concluded, and Airo was about to retire to make some private revisions, when Magus approached him on the way out of the command room.

"Walk with me for a spell," the old Knight said.

Airo was irritated at this casual display of authority. Even so, he followed Magus silently. The two of them strolled along Ilsorin's vast hallways and took a cargo elevator to the uppermost levels. Here there was almost no traffic, as the area lacked residential amenities in general, and most sections were hangar space for fighter craft or repair bays. Airo was about to ask what was the point of this, when Magus said:

"I wanted to tell you something."

Airo bristled. "Is this another one of your talks, old man?"

"No. No 'talks' this time." Magus stopped before a cluster of aethertech megafluxers and looked him in the eyes. "I want to apologize."

Airo paused, frowning. "What?"

Magus sighed, an unusual gesture, and looked away. "I am sorry I did not prevent what happened to Zenassa," the old Knight said, making visible effort to meet Airo's gaze again. "I am sorry you had to endure such a tragedy."

Airo watched him silently. He was too shocked to form a reply.

"I never realized the extent of your suffering," Magus continued. "Or your ability to turn that suffering into such a terrible strength. If I had known sooner... I tried to help both of you – you and Ferrtau. In his case, I found a way to heal the guilt which ripped his soul apart. Yet for you... I failed to give you the means to ease your grief."

"So you decided instead to throw me into permanent cryostasis, where my soul could rot away?" Airo asked.

"My intention never was for you to stay imprisoned forever. The idea was... to put you away temporarily, until I could find a way to help you."

"It took you long enough."

"On the contrary," Magus objected, some of his reticence returning. "I found a way, and the world paid an abysmal price because of it. It was a discovery that had unforeseen consequences, consequences which imperiled everything. That is why I set my findings aside, and engaged with the pressing matters which had arisen. Yet in so doing, you were left alone and abandoned."

"It is too late to grow a conscience, old man," Airo snapped. He folded his arms. "And I never wanted your help, anyway."

"I am aware of both points," Magus said. His lips pursed, another unusual expression. "Yet the events of late... they reminded me some things. About forgotten truths and ignored signs. This is why I give you my apologies, even if they are seven centuries out of date. I am sorry, Airo."

He was taken aback at the sincere emotion in the old Knight's voice. "Is there anything else?" he asked, surprised he had to put effort to actually sound annoyed. Magus caught his hesitation.

"There is," the old Knight said. "It is something I realized when I saw you and Veralla at the funeral. You never needed my help, Airo. Your fate as the Dragonslayer was never set in stone. You needed compassion and love, not pity and sympathy. You needed acceptance." Magus continued softly, "So feel accepted, Airo. Even when you are alone, you still walk within the light of the Fire Eternal. Even when you follow a terrible path, you still do so among the stars of the Great Cosmos. Feel accepted, Airo, and you shall see the Way.

"And know this: I accept you. Everyone who follows you in this war accepts you. Veralla accepts you."

Magus Dei turned and walked away, leaving Airo to comprehend what he had just heard. He gazed after the withdrawing form of the old Knight, and he rubbed the back of his head with a gauntleted hand.

"Always the dramatics with this guy," he said, pensive.

***

Veralla moved through Ilsorin's halls with a purpose. She was determined to help Nightsong get better. The first step was to understand why Nightsong could not get better.

To learn that, she was going to see Magus Dei, who was very wise and very powerful, and ask him why he cannot cure Nightsong.

"Cloud, can you tell me where is Magus?" she asked out loud, stopping at a large intersection of hallways, grav-shaft clusters, and rampart exits. Ilsorin was vast, and without guidance she could wander for days before finding the old Knight, and she did not even know where he slept or liked to spend his time.

"I can, Veralla," Yeoman Cloud replied helpfully, the SAI's artificial voice sounding directly in her head. "However... is it necessary for you to see him now?"

She was confused by the question. "Well, I think so," she said tentatively. "I want to ask him about Nightsong. Is he busy at the moment?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. He's currently engaged in conversation."

"Conversation? With who? Perhaps I could join?"

"I don't think this would be a good idea, Veralla. Stellarr Dei is speaking with Stellana Mentoria."

"Oh, but I do want to know more about her! She is always so... strange. And distant. And unfriendly. Perhaps she is lonely? I can help Magus make her good company!"

"I... don't think that's exactly the case here, Veralla."

"Oh. Then what is it?"

"It's... well. Do you want to see for yourself?"

"Yes!"

"Okay. See that niche between the dragon sculpture and the grid-access terminal, by the farthest-most exit? Please go there, and I'll show on the screen the relevant video feeds."

She did as Yeoman Cloud asked. Few people passed along the high walkway here, as it led only to isolated parts on the mountain outside, and so the location was quite private. Veralla dodged a pair of delphinidae uplimals in mobile hydration suits, who were babbling merrily about the wealth of fish recipes Ilsorin's food makers could replicate. She nestled at the indicated spot, and the screen before her flickered to life.

The video feed displayed an image from the stronghold's lower levels. Magus and Mentoria were located in some sort of enormous laboratory, surrounded by workstations, fabricators, transparent holding tanks, high-energy zones, and other wondrous devices. Silvery hazes of nanoswarms hovered in various sections, performing or regulating some tasks which were unfamiliar to Veralla.

She was captivated by the sight, and decided to visit the laboratory as soon as she could, yet what suddenly got her attention was the desolate voice of Magus, and the grave, forbidding expression of the listening Mentoria.

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"Allow me to make amends, then."

"You should halt your attempts to change the past, my dear."

"You took my meaning too literally."

"You have always been very literal, my dear."

"You know I never stopped loving you."

"Do I? How do I know that? From where comes such knowledge?"

"It comes from your heart, Mentoria."

"My heart? The one you broke time and again? You abandoned me, Magus. We had each other for centuries, for millennia, for aeons long forgotten, and we shared something impossible to destroy, impossible to unmake. Then that overgrown lizard came along, and shattered our union."

"Aethernalis and his kin were special."

"Special!? What makes them so special! We have seen dragons before, Magus. Many times, in many forms, across many realities."

"Yet they have never been the same. And each iteration has given us new, unique perspectives. Also, we have kept the company of dragons in the past, Mentoria. We have even lived as such, and in many other forms. Why it had to be different this time?"

"Why indeed? Why did you devote so much attention to those who are lesser than us, Magus? Why did you fawn over your pet so much?"

"Aethernalis was never a pet. Mine or anyone's else. He was a dear friend who had a vision about the world. A vision far grander than any of us ever imagined. And Aethernalis held that vision not with implacable zeal, but with unconditional love. He was a messiah, Mentoria. He reminded me who I was in truth, and he showed me the Way."

"So your Way was to leave me. I see."

"I never left you, Mentoria!"

"You actions speak otherwise, Magus."

"What would you have liked for me to have done?"

"Love me. Have sex with me. Keep me in your arms, and have the two of us wander the stars together until the end of time, like we promised each other."

"And leave the legacy that caused the Cosmic Death unattended? Neglect the conflict we both spent ages fighting in? Ignore the Void and leave the universe to collapse?"

"Yes, Magus! That is exactly what I wanted! Everything comes to an end, sooner or later. We did our part, and it did not matter. We sacrificed enough. The least we could have done was to have a well-deserved rest. Even now, it will take aeons more before oblivion consumes us all. And we could have enjoyed them in full. No crusades. No grand quests. No dragons. No damned never-ending save-the-world journeys, so others can reap the rewards. I want my happy ending!"

"I wanted a happy ending, too. I thought we dedicated ourselves to our cause because of that. What happened to your compassion, Mentoria?"

"My compassion died with your love toward me, Magus."

"I never stopped loving you!"

"Then why did you not show me that?"

"...because I made a mistake. Forgive me, Mentoria."

"There is nothing to forgive. I have already moved on, Magus. Go spread your ideals and dreams in peace. Just do not bother me, or distract me from my work."

"Your work? Since when you have decided to continue Project Ascension?"

"I have to do something, my dear. I had no goals in my life for too long. I figured I might as well create some out of whole cloth."

"And you chose to bring from the ashes one of the greatest hubris this galaxy has ever tried to accomplish?"

"I am no mere mortal, Magus. And neither are you – or at least you used to be. We each have our perspectives which transcend those of lesser beings."

"So where does your perspective end, then? You know my aspirations; it is only fair you tell me yours."

"Power."

"Power?"

"Power. Plain and simple. Power to make my own destiny absolute."

"You know what happens when means become ends, Mentoria. Ferrtau is a proof to that."

"Spare me your lecture! Look at where your ends got you, and then dare challenge my aims. Ferrtau was your protege. He was completely indoctrinated in your beliefs and philosophies. Where that led him to? Like so many saviors before him, he lived long enough to see himself become the villain. It is the same fate that awaits you, Magus. If it has not already happened."

"Perhaps. Everything comes to an end – you said so yourself, Mentoria. Yet I fear your path will skip the heroic part and shape you straight into a malefactor. Perhaps... I should stop you before it is too late."

"Perhaps you should try."

"..."

"..."

"I came to apologize. To try and make things right. I never wanted to hurt you."

"On that, we can both agree. I, too, thought you never wanted to hurt me. Yet we were both wrong."

"So, no chance?"

"No chance."

"I see." Pause. "Answer me one question: Why the serefi?"

"As pedestrian as it sounds, the reason is non-corporeal life forms are often considered unimaginable, and left unexplored. Yet one who seeks knowledge takes all possibilities into account."

"Knowledge alone is not enough for one to Ascend."

"Who said I wanted to do that? I am content to stay in this reality indefinitely."

Veralla reached out and turned off the video feed. What she had heard made little sense to her, yet she was sure it was because she lacked proper context. And even without context, the information itself sounded very important – and vaguely unsettling. She felt at once confused, scared, and sad.

She needed Airo to make her feel better. As for Nightsong, she was not so certain anymore if Magus could help her; he seemed to have problems of his own, and they were much, much older than anything Veralla had ever known.

***

Everything threatened to come crashing down.

In the days following the devastating attack, Airo carefully monitored the morale among the Radiant Knights. He did not like the results. Nearly everybody had become dispirited, like when he had first arrived at the hidden base. In some cases it was worse; people had to be rotated out of active mission duty, lest their lowered combat readiness brought trouble to everyone. This put additional strain on the operational schedule, and the skyship started to spend more and more time grounded, because there was no available crew to safely fly it. Its damaged state didn't help matters, either.

As such, there was a drastic reduction of mission types. Vorzii could no longer stay afield for days on end and perform multiple objectives in one outing. Counterattacks on the Revenant were abandoned. The enemy was now actively on the hunt, and another ambush – or even a pitched battle – would be disastrous. Evacuation efforts were similarly downsized to the absolute minimum. People living in the hot zone had started leaving their settlements, making themselves harder targets for rescue missions and easier to be killed by the Revenant or the paraworld itself. Airo quietly told Cloud to focus operations on supply and recruitment of Consortium and Union field forces, hoping the soldiers would be able to save enough refugees and hold back the advancing Revenant on their own.

The weather had worsened. Warpstorms coming from the Shard were now a daily occurrence, and several times Airo had to cancel or relocate supply drop-zones because the chosen region abruptly became screwed in its very space-time continuum. Terra Para's intense turbulence also cost him a number of contacts, when the warpstorms inevitably reached Consortium and Union territory.

He persevered through all these hardships. He continued to slowly build rapport with the lower echelons of the stellar civilizations. He supplied resonance fields and veronite, evacuated people whenever he could, and led the Radiant Knights to the best of his ability.

Yet even he wasn't impervious to the low morale which permeated the Order's stronghold. The memory of the dead Knights hovered like a stark reminder of how absolute the stakes in this war were, but what truly disheartened everyone was the plight of the sick dragonet, Nightsong. The other dragons constantly asked about her, while the humans shook their heads and murmured in regret. Kiana, who looked after Nightsong, hadn't slept for days according to Cloud's report. In the wake of Zozzy's death Airo urgently needed an experienced main pilot for the skyship, yet he knew it was pointless to press Kiana with the issue.

"Cloud, who are Nightsong's parents?" he consulted the SAI one evening, thinking the answer to the hatchling's illness might be found in her genealogy.

"I don't know, Commander. That information had not been transferred to the local datalinks from the central archives at the Shard."

"What about the blood samples?"

"The tests came back negative, Commander. All present dragons are neither a parent, nor a sibling to Nightsong. Obtaining viable results was a challenge, as dragons' physicality is quite flexible on the quantum level, and their DNA-equivalent is a triple-tripartite nonary helix, which–"

"That would be all, Cloud."

In truth, while Airo never admitted it to anyone, he was worried for the hatchling too.

He didn't know what to think anymore. Too much had happened recently. The brutal Revenant ambush. His confrontation with Magus Dei. The respect he had earned from both the Radiant Knights and the refugees. Nightsong's hatching. The promise he had made to Veralla. The sparring match they had, and the spark which it had ignited.

Airo felt the grip on his psyche slip. The emptiness inside threatened to rise again, not to numb him, but to hurt him. His rage lunged and thrashed in his soul like a monster trapped in a cage. Anguish, shockingly fresh and clear for the first time in seven centuries, seared his being, putting forth a range of emotions he thought himself impossible to experience ever again.

During the day, he struggled to suppress this newfound vulnerability, focused on the war and his revenge on Ferrtau. Yet at night, he found solace from it in a place he never expected: Veralla's company. He enjoyed talking to her, and her very presence soothed him. She wanted to be close to him, and he did not mind – indeed he started to get used to the touch of her soft, smooth scales. At times, he even forgot she was a dragon. To him, she was Veralla, a bright, idealistic person and a dear friend; she was the one who stood by him, the one who accepted him as he was, the one who forgave him everything. Veralla gave him a reason to live: her.

And she did something more. She made him feel alive again.

The realization rocked Airo to his core. It gave the answer why he was so overwhelmed – why his grief for Zenassa had arisen anew, why he worried about Nightsong, why his demeanor had softened, why his senses were slipping. The newly-ignited spark of life once more had blessed him with vitality, giving all to him, both good and bad. He was no longer an empty shell, hardened and driven by a singular, hollow purpose; he was alive, and free to feel the pain and the joy that were part of the most holy of flames in existence.

And he was free to heal.