Ilsorin, the Radiant Knight's hidden base, Terra Para

Nightsong was still as weak and shivering as when Veralla saw her last.

After returning from the H'raal fleet, the first thing she did was to go to Ilsorin's medical level. Nightsong's room was the same, lacking any furniture save for the nanofabricator. The sick dragonet lay in the healing pool, her wan visage looking almost translucent under the clear midday light streaming from the wall-window. Kiana sprawled beside the healing pool, a simple bedroll placed beneath her. Her face seemed drained of all color, and Veralla could sense she was almost as ill as Nightsong.

"Hey... whipp... kiddo," Kiana greeted, her tongue slurring. She had forsaken clothes completely, and her neon tatoos pulsed in muted, anemic manner.

"Ah... cold..." Nightsong moaned. Kiana reached with a hand and petted her on the head.

"Kiana, is there something I can do to help?" Veralla asked, lashing her tail anxiously. She worried every time she came to visit, fearing either Nightsong or Kiana will not be alive anymore.

"Thanks... for the... offer... but... this is out of... your league, wh... kiddo..."

"But you are so very tired! You should rest and sleep!"

"I'm fine..." Kiana waved feebly. "Sleep's not... a problem... 'cause I'm... a tr... transhuman... you know?..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Trouble... comes... from giving my... life essence... to... to Nightsong..."

Nightsong moaned again, and shuddered. Kiana hauled herself on her knees and embraced the small dragonet.

"Shh... shh... everything's going to be okay, Nightsong," Kiana told her. Her arms trembled and her blue hair hung limply from her head, yet her lavender eyes were bright and filled with love.

"I'm hungry..."

"Okay, I'll get you a snack right away... Veralla... could you please fetch a thing from the 'fabber?..."

She murmured in affirmation and went to the nanofabricator in the corner. Her twin hearts were heavy with misery as she selected a nutrition-rich meal from the interface.

"Cloud, can you not do something to heal Nightsong?" she quietly asked, glancing toward the forlorn pair of soulkin.

A reply blinked on the nanofabricator's HHI screen. "The Æther-restoration fields are working at maximum capacity, and the healing pool is kept at peak efficiency at all times. Anything else is beyond my capabilities. I'm sorry, Veralla."

"What about... Kiana? Can you not make her less tired? If you can help her, she would be better able to help Nightsong."

"Kiana's also under the influence of the restoration fields. If that wasn't the case, she would've been dead by now."

She stared at the screen in mute shock.

"Veralla..."

"Oh, c-coming!"

She took the meal tray in her foreclaws and carefully walked toward the healing pool, still somewhat unaccustomed to holding items even after so much practice. She put the tray on the healing pool's rim, and Kiana took a piece and offered it to Nightsong. Nightsong nibbled at the food, yet her teeth slipped and she cut Kiana's finger.

"Oh!... S-s-sorry!..."

"It's okay, Nightsong... Don't worry..." Kiana took another piece without bothering to tend her wound, still embracing the sick dragonet with her other arm. "You just eat... You can even drink my blood, if you like it... ha-ha..."

"R-really?... I can do that?..."

"It was a joke... but sure, I don't mind it..."

They lay so for a long time, Kiana hugging and feeding Nightsong, while the dragonet enveloped her with frail wings and tail, shivering incessantly. Veralla watched them, the misery and sadness inside her growing.

"Kiana, I do not want you to die!" she said in desperation.

"Me neither... whipper... snapper..." Kiana smiled weakly. "I intend... to live."

"I do not want Nightsong to die, too. But... if she... if she cannot be saved... I..." Veralla could not finish.

"Ahh, hush now!... No such talk!... Me and Nightsong will pull through..."

"But..."

"No 'buts', kiddo... I won't let us give up so easily..."

"Kiana..." Nightsong murmured.

"Yes, my dear?..."

The dragonet shuddered more strongly as she struggled to speak. "If you can't... keep the cold away... anymore... I will understand... and..."

"No-no-no... don't finish that sentence... You and me, Nightsong, we will make it... we will make it, I promise..." Kiana's aura flared, and energy crackled around her body as she began to unleash her Æther powers.

"No, do not push yourself anymore, Kiana!" Veralla pleaded, her vision blurring as the tears came unbidden.

"I will... save Nightsong... 'cause it ain't right... leaving her... alone... leaving anyone... alone..."

One of the walls variformed away. A large group of Radiant Knights, both humans and dragons, stood in the spacious hall outside, their expressions determined. The Knights, all of them armorless, were led by Lylana. The hulking Scorchlander stepped forth and kneeled before the healing pool, her voice gentle and warm. "You have done enough, Kiana. Let go now, and rest."

Kiana's eyes lit up defiantly. "Like... void... I'd do... that..." she said, her crackling nimbus intensifying. "If you came... to force me... to rest... you can... go fuck..."

Lylana shook her head, lifting one hand in a placating gesture. "You misunderstand me. You have done enough. You have tirelessly dedicated yourself – and even given parts of your very life – to save another. Even in the face of certain failure, you persevered and held your faith strong. You refused to let tragedy come to pass, and were willing to sacrifice your own flame to keep the light going. For that, we deem you a true Radiant Knight, Kiana. And we are here to share your burden."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"You... you are... going to help... me?..." Kiana asked, her exhausted features twisting in amazement.

"We are," Lylana nodded solemnly. She gestured at the waiting Radiant Knights. "We all are. All Awakened among us volunteered to come. We are going to help by giving part of our own life essences."

"Yeah, we're gonna help Nightsong get her might back in her wings!" Tehalix called from among the gathered Knights. "Me and Lung, and all the dudes here will trade shifts until she's healthy or until we become dust. Because this is the duty of the Knights. You reminded us, Kiana, that no matter the problem, big or small, no matter the chances, certain or none, we must always aid everyone along the Way."

"But... but... what about... the war?... If you spend... your strength... helping me... then..."

"To the void with the war," Lylana snapped with passion. "This is a far greater battle, one which our hearts and souls depend upon. We won't make the same mistake and abandon Nightsong again. Or you, for that matter." Lylana raised her hands and they glowed with golden light. "Now rest, Kiana. Let us share your burden."

Kiana's lip trembled. A lone tear streaked down her cheek. She lowered her gaze at the shivering Nightsong, who looked at her with heartfelt affection.

"Whaddya say... whipper... snapper? D'you wanna... have some tinglies... from... someone else?"

The sick dragonet nodded her small head fervently. "Yes... yes, Kiana... if it means... you can rest... then yes..."

"Alright..." Kiana sagged, and the crackling nimbus of energy around her abruptly vanished. "I'll... nap for a bit..." She slumped backward, leaning on the wall next to the healing pool, and became dead to the world.

Yet she never let go of Nightsong, embracing the dragonet even as she lost consciousness, who hugged her in turn with equal amounts of boundless love.

***

"And then Lylana gave from her life essence to Nightsong!" Veralla explained excitedly, her tail bouncing left and right. "And Tehalix gave some of hers to Kiana, because Kiana was very tired! I am sure Nightsong will live, because there are so many people now who care for her!"

"Yes, those are encouraging news," Airo said, smiling at her enthusiasm. They were both on the bed, he propped on his elbow, and Veralla lying down next to him.

"Right? And it is even better, because we persuaded the H'raal to help us, and now we can save everyone! We can save even Ferrtau!"

"Now, now..." Airo was momentarily flustered. "Let us... do things one step at a time. We still have a lot of work ahead of us."

"Yes, that is right. But I think we will be able to do a lot more at once very soon." Veralla yawned, showing her sharp fangs. She then flicked her forked tongue. "Time to sleep, yes?"

"Just so," he nodded.

"It is strange, though. I feel less and less the need to sleep, even when I am tired. Is something wrong with me?"

"No, dragons sleep less as they grow up, until they lose the need to do it altogether."

"But I like to sleep! I have dreams when I do so, and many of those are very nice and beautiful!"

"You can still sleep afterward, if you want to. The only difference would be you chose to sleep, without requiring to do so periodically."

"Oh." She evidently was intrigued by the idea. "So I will be free to sleep whenever I want to?"

"Yes," Airo said, and reached to pull up the blanket. He realized how acutely he missed this ancient, ingrained feeling of security, sleeping on a soft surface and covered with a warm fabric. Veralla snuggled beside him and yawned again.

"But what about you?" she asked.

"What about me?" he echoed, confused.

"Do you not feel... frustrated, that you must sleep whether you want to or not?"

He shrugged, thinking. "It is how we humans are made. I have had... problems with this condition, yet in the end, this is how things are. 'Pray to have the strength to overcome those challenges which you can, and pray to accept those challenges which you cannot' – so goes one of the proverbs of the Ancients."

"Oh, oh, I remember that one! It is called the Serenity Prayer, written by an Ancient priest: 'God, grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to always know the difference.'"

"Yeah, that was the one. Though I consider accessing the Viirt for quotes to be cheating."

"I did not access the Viirt! I did not cheat!"

"Just let us sleep, Veralla."

"Okay."

The lights in the chamber went out. Airo lay in the dark, watching the moonless sky of Terra Para through the window. He waited until Veralla's breathing became quiet and even. He then waited some more, just in case. Finally, he carefully separated from her, and rose silently. His mind tingled. He froze, casting a glance at Veralla, yet she remained motionless, probably dreaming about him. He smiled unknowingly, feeling once more deeply relieved and grateful for her warmth, for the life she had gifted him with again.

He went to the chamber's spacious closet. Inside, he donned his power armor, whose nano-circuits whirred softly as the protective suit closed around him. He didn't need the armor, yet old habits died hard.

He left the chamber. The residential levels were quiet, as most of the refugees had retired for the night. He headed toward his by-now-familiar retreat, the retro-styled flight commander's office at Ilsorin's top levels. En route, he summoned Yeoman Cloud.

"What is the status on the captured Revenant?" he asked the SAI.

"Oh, that's a bit of a bummer, Commander! The interrogation project was forcibly shut down almost immediately after its beginning."

"What!? What the bloody stars happened??"

"The gestalt Radiant Knights Emaerel crossed the protective barriers, and eliminated the Revenant after you left, Commander. Since the barriers were designed to restrain quasi-immaterial beings, they had little effect on physical subjects."

He bristled with fury. "THOSE DEMENTED FA–"

"They acted on orders from Elder Darkovitz, Commander," the SAI continued. "She explained to me that any Revenant who enters inside the sub-fractal region could reveal Ilsorin's location to Ferrtau. Elder Darkovitz declared such risk to security as unacceptable. Since this aligns with your own directives, Commander, I've agreed with her assessment, and did not report the incident until a more opportune time, such as now."

The information helped him to calm down. He thought the implications through, and realized Lylana had been right; Ferrtau had absolute control over the Revenant as their creator, and given his level of power, it was entirely possible he could access their senses at will, from anywhere. Airo frowned at his own stupidity – he had made a fatal mistake, and only Lylana's quick reaction and – hopefully – large quantities of luck had averted a terminal disaster.

He shook his head. This war had lasted long enough. He'd been in longer conflicts, yet never with such high stakes, and never with odds so stacked against his side. Yet things were about to change, and Ferrtau was about to get what was due to him.

You will pay, Ferrtau.

Old habits died hard, and old vows perished even harder.

He reached the retro office. Inside, the furniture was completely restored, as if the consequences of his rage during the fateful talk with Magus never happened. He sat down on a discrete sofa upholstered with dark vinyl. He loaded Ferrtau's living chronicle in the power armor's interface, but his mind paused, hovering on the decision to engage simulspace and dive into the memories of his archenemy.

He still wanted revenge. Yet... Did he wage this war against Ferrtau still only out of desire for vengeance? Did he not have other concerns now? What... what else he cared for?

Veralla. He cared for Veralla.

He wanted to see her happy. And that, by proxy, meant he was concerned for the wellbeing of others, because she cared for them. She cared for everyone. Even for Ferrtau, who nearly killed her.

That is why Airo wouldn't forgive him. Ferrtau caused Zenassa's death, and he tried to do the same to Veralla. He was a monster, a blackguard who hid his treacherous nature beneath a mask of nobility and enlightenment. He...

Or what if... what if Airo had it backwards the entire time? What if he was wrong for all these years, all these unlived centuries? He gazed at the power armor's interface, where the program patiently awaited his command. All these memories, all those intimate moments... Was it possible at all such ardent displays of emotion to be false?

No. Kalessia would have never become soulkin to Ferrtau if that was true. If she had been even a fraction like her daughter, she would've seen through such deception, would've been able to clearly read Ferrtau's soul and discern the truth there, just like Veralla had done with Airo.

Airo had all the answers before him. They were there the entire time, even when he was unwilling to accept them.

Why, then, he continued to review Ferrtau's living chronicle? What did he seek in his archenemy's memories he hadn't seen already a thousand times?

Perhaps he wanted to be sure. Wanted to be sure he was wrong, because a part of him stubbornly refused to admit he had made a mistake, refused to forgive, refused to let go of the only thing which had kept him going when there hadn't been anything else to keep the flame inside him alight.

Perhaps he felt obligation to see what had been the life of the man he was going to kill.

Airo launched simulspace and entered once more in another world, in another time, in another fate.