Cyrus marched down the southside residential district of central Ulciscor as though he were an actual member of the Ulciscor Guard. He resisted the urge to tug at the tight collar of his silver and black recruit uniform and instead focused on banishing the suffocating grayness from his head. That murky, helpless feeling had returned not long after separating from Deen and Argent, but he refused to let it weigh him down any longer. There was a job to be done.

Bolstering his confidence was the spindly blond man marching beside him, Captain Velox. Of all the soldiers Deen could have approached, he was turning out to be a rather nice choice. Despite Velox’s complaining and constant vocalizing about how he’d like to pretend none of this was happening and would rather be doing literally anything else, he was still here. Still trying to make sense of the confusing, outlandish events happening around him and offering solutions when problems arose.

One such problem was how they were going to pass themselves off as agents of Mammon Rigel. It didn’t take long to reach their destination, a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop with a sign on the front window reading Birds of a Feather. The captain slipped his wallet out from a belt pouch. He flipped it open, peeking inside with a sigh.

“There goes my night. The things I do for you people. Wait here.”

He pushed the door open— a bell above it chiming— and left Cyrus alone with nothing but his thoughts.

So many things were stuck in his head, eating at him like an insect tearing through a leaf bit by bit. Everyone in Castitas was probably dead by now. Why did Phaethon and the rest of the Flocks only allow him to make it through these ordeals? It wasn’t fair. He was worthless. A chef? What a joke. Even that ruthless murderer made better meals than him.

Enough.

When was he going to stop feeling this way? Hadn’t he just decided he wasn’t going to let this get to him anymore? It was like the relief he felt hearing about Luke didn’t even matter. Was he broken?

The bell chimed again.

“That went well,” Velox said, digging into a paper bag. He glanced at Cyrus— then stopped and stared. “You all right?”

How pathetic must he look?

“Yeah. Fine. What have you got?”

Velox pulled out a necklace of glossy black beads and threw it on. The lowest bead was larger and shaped like the tufted head of a bird with a prominent white streak at the browline. He dug through the bag again and handed Cyrus a wide black bracelet of similar design.

He slipped a hand through the bracelet and nodded to Velox. All they had to do now was put his idea to the test. The memory of that conversation in the sewers repeated in his mind as they began heading toward the Daniels residence.

“Absolutely not,” Deen had said. The ex-captain’s face flickered with lanternlight as the four of them shuffled down the dark passageway. He sounded how he looked. Stressed like a taut rope.

“Why not?” Cyrus argued. “I’m sixteen. I’m of age. This isn’t like with Luke. I’m an adult. I’m allowed to make stupid decisions.”

“You’re the age of a fresh recruit,” Deen said. “We don’t send our recruits out on life-risking missions like this. If they find out you’re not one of theirs, they’ll kill you. You understand that, right?”

“Of course I do.” He clenched a fist. “But we don’t have a lot of allies or options right now. Am I wrong?”

Deen opened his mouth, then closed it.

“He’s got a point, Daniels,” Velox said. “I’ll go with him. It’s gotta be safer than the Council Building. Agreed?”

Deen sighed a long sigh. “Why do I even try?”

“I’ll get the word out about you,” Velox said. “And I’ll see if I can do anything about Seras. No promises.”

“Captain Daniels,” Argent said. “You have faith in this plan. Your objections lie with who’s carrying it out. Can you explain your faith? I am not entirely convinced.”

“Daevan communications aren’t the best. Cyrus and I watched Major Cade fight members of Cathartes. So it isn’t easy to identify Mammon’s soldiers. As long as they keep things vague, they should be able to get the guards to leave.”

“Those are members of two separate branches of the empire. What about within the same branch? You believe the Silhouette’s agents cannot identify fellow conspirators? I have my own opinion on this, but I am curious to hear yours.”

“If they’re as covert as you say, it would stand to reason that they have a hard time doing so. The Tapera keepsakes are probably the only way of proving membership. Else, why do they all have things like that in the first place? Purely for belief?”

“I am of a similar mind. I’ve never had the opportunity to test that theory, however. It is certainly a dangerous proposition.”

“And…” Deen said, trailing off.

“And?” Argent prompted.

“Cade said something. She split up right before those Cathartes assassins attacked us in Filose…” Deen ran a hand down his face. “How could I be so stupid? Playing a part. Acting like you belong. She was talking about how Rigel’s agents blend into Ulciscor.”

“Then there’s no room for doubt,” Cyrus said. “This’ll work.”

“And if it doesn’t, I’ll be right there with you to get us out,” Velox said, patting him on the back. “Daniels knows I’m good at giving the Guard the slip whenever I’m in trouble.”

As Deen was shaking his head in disbelief, the memory vanished. Cyrus had bumped into a man carrying stacks of timber. He mumbled an apology and ducked past, rejoining Velox.

He’d been confident at the time, but as the moment drew near, doubt choked Cyrus. He was in over his head. Every fiber of his being was screaming that this plan was going to go horribly wrong.

“You think I’m gonna die for you?”

Cyrus looked up.

“I didn’t say any—”

“It’s written all over your face. Has been ever since we came out of the tunnel. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Velox pulled his over to a bench and they sat down. “Survivor’s guilt, our mind doctors call it. Worse than death, some say.”

“Who says?” he whispered.

“Who do you think?” Velox said, not meeting his eyes. Instead, he tilted his head up to watch the dark clouds rumble past. The drizzling rain had begun to fall again. “Daniels told me a bit about what you’ve been through.”

Cyrus recalled how two captains stepped apart to chat after the group had resurfaced from the sewer system. He found it odd how subdued Velox looked back then.

“Happens to soldiers. A lot of soldiers. There was a man recently, one of Daniels’s. Name’s Svall. Svall’s a good man, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to drink and roll dice with him again. Well. Sooner or later, it’ll be my turn. Maybe then.” He sighed deep. “Oh, we’re promised a pretty pension from Ranboc, but sometimes I find myself wondering if it’ll be worth it.”

“Is this supposed to be helping me, sir?”

“Nah. Course not. Maybe Svall can talk with you though. I want you to meet him if we make it through the day.” Velox stood. “Anyway, I’m not dying on you. That’s a promise, kid. I’ll run and leave you to the wolves to save my own hide. Unlike everybody else in your life, I’m not a good role model. I have a life to live and plenty of debauchery to… uh, debauch myself with. I think that’s a word. So don’t worry about it. No heroism from me, that’s for sure.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” Velox patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “Ready for the bluff? I’m good at these, you know.”

Cyrus got up.

———

Luke and Aisha stood attentively, facing Major Zela Linden. To be honest, when Aisha said she’d try asking ‘some friends’ for help, he hadn’t expected it to be the entire West Wall. He really should have.

The major sat upon a bench, adjusting the silvery greaves of her armor. Her brow was coated with sweat and a riveted helm marred by blood rested beside her. Multiple thick plumes of smoke hung over rows of buildings two streets off, a flickering orange glow battling the darkness of the cloud cover.

Firefighters and guardsmen darted this way and that, but he knew there was an order to the chaos. He’d watched Linden respond to the assassination attempt with a calm voice and a fury behind her eyes. By the time they’d reached her, she’d already dispatched one of two would-be killers with the freshly-cleaned broadsword leaning against the bench.

The second was one of her captains. Linden was keenly interested in knowing the man’s co-conspirators. She’d incapacitated him by breaking his arm and cracking one of his ribs. According to Linden, they’d missed catching her unprepared by a minute or so. She’d been on edge ever since she tried to talk Wolf out of going to Filose. Doubly so after he returned to Ulciscor with an entourage of strange people that kept to themselves and wouldn’t answer any of her questions.

“I’ll need your help, Major Fibian,” Linden said, looking at Aisha. She folded her arms, gauntlets clinking. “You’re good at probing people. I need to make sure my ranked men are clean of traitors if we are to enact your plan.”

“It’s not much of a plan.” Aisha pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, then replaced the pack and took a drag before continuing. “I just want to throw you all at these featherless fools. Make them tip their hand before they’re ready to. With any luck, they’ll be just as confused as us.”

Major Aisha Fibian— apparently— had proposed a daring assault on the Ulciscor Council Building using about half of the West Wall’s forces. Earlier, she’d pulled aside three of the firefighters and sent them on separate missions to deliver special instructions to the Rear reserves. It sounded like they were supposed to stay still and reinforce the West Wall if it came under attack. Luke heard a few code phrases, probably to identify the message actually came from Aisha.

A runner approached the three of them, saluting Linden.

“The captain is ready to receive you, major,” she said.

“You’ve finished patching him up already?” Linden asked, sounding smug. “Very well. Fibian, you’ll help?”

Aisha nodded as the runner returned to her post. Linden stood and Luke moved to follow.

“Wait here, boy,” the armored major said. “I appreciate your help, but there’s nothing you can do for an interrogation.”

“But if you’re both attacked again…”

“Luke,” Aisha said. “We’re not worried about that. There are some things in this world you’re better off not knowing.” She leaned in close and whispered into his ear. “Such as how persuasive a woman can be when she needs to know something.”

He flushed, backing away.

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“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Linden said, smiling sweetly, “we don’t really care about what acts are and aren’t forbidden by the Agreement right now, seeing as how we’re being invaded and all.”

“The Tapera hint you gave us is enough,” Aisha said, patting him on the shoulder and pushing him down onto the bench. “Take a break, kid. You deserve one. There’s still a lot of work to be done.”

“Fine.” He nodded.

“If you remember anything else, tell her,” Linden said, gesturing at the runner standing nearby. “She’ll bring it to us. That woman is my personal armorer. I trust her with my life.”

And so, they left him alone with his thoughts. He put his head back, watching the dark clouds overhead with a worried feeling. It could start raining again any moment. That didn’t bode well. Never did.

You always put so much stock in the sky. Like some kind of fortune-telling. A superstitious sort, aren’t you?

Hearing his own voice speak when he hadn’t spoken sent a chill down his spine. He swallowed hard and clenched his fists under his cloak. It wasn’t something to be afraid of.

Can you hear me? Please. A name. Do you have a name?

Silence. More silence. He waited, motionless. Breathless.

“Please,” he pled, a whisper.

Synthesis.

The word felt important. Somehow, he could tell. What did it mean?

Synthesis. That is my name. And Argent was right. I do not like you.

Why not?

You are selfish.

“Selfish!” he blurted out, sitting up. He caught the armorer’s eye and flushed, faking a cough and turning the other way.

What makes you say I’m selfish? I’m using your power for others, aren’t I?

Turning back to save that woman, for instance. It left you with no time to intercept Zela Linden’s attackers.

“It worked out, didn’t it?” he mumbled, swinging his legs.

You had no reason to believe it would. The opposite, in fact. You saw what happened at Aisha’s residence. You risked everything so you could play the hero of the hour. It was self-centered.

I was trying to do the right thing.

The right thing to do was abandon her. This so-called Synthesis sounded cold as he said it. If you want to make a difference, you’re going to have to learn about responsibility. Else the people of Ulciscor will slip through your fingers like sand as you try to grasp each and every grain.

He hesitated, studying his palm. Luke remembered the unseen shape impressed upon it, like a crudely-drawn sun. What would happen if he didn’t see eye to eye with this being?

You disagree? That is fine.

How can you tell?

I can feel your emotions. To an extent.

How’s that? Luke asked. He hunched forward and folded his hands.

We are linked, you and I. Chained together. ‘Weaver’ is an apt description, as Argent calls it. Our beings woven as one by threads of Cyan.

He breathed deep. It didn’t help. It could sense this, the anxiety he felt? His back tingled, prickling pins of an uncomfortable heat.

I will say this much. It is not my intention to force or coerce you. Merely to guide you, unworthy successor.

Are you going to talk to me from now on?

That is up to you. You are the one that shut me out in the first place.

I never did anything like that.

If you say so.

Before he could press Synthesis further, Aisha returned. She waved him over, surrounded by runners in silver and black darting this way and that, carrying messages and orders to soldiers of the West Wall.

“You’re done already?”

“It doesn’t take that long to…” Aisha trailed off. “Well, never mind.”

What did they do to him?

Look underneath her fingernails. Dark stains. Blood.

He paused. He hadn’t expected a response from the voice.

You can hear all my thoughts? Luke asked it.

Only your loudest ones.

So you can notice details like that? he asked, curious. How do you see?

I think that human is talking to you.

“Are you listening?” Aisha asked. “Luke?”

“What? Sorry.”

“You were spacing out. If you need more rest, wait until we’re in the automobile. They’re sending it over now. We’re ready to head for the Council Building. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Yeah.” He ignored the dull thumping of his chest wound. “I am.”

How about you, Synthesis?

I do not see why you are asking me.

Er… I’m just being friendly.

We are not friends, unworthy successor. You are nothing to me.

Well, at least Luke wasn’t going crazy. There is a voice in his head.

And it hates him. Great.

———

The Daniels residence looked much as Cyrus remembered it, a worn-down brick building, its red color faded from the decades. All the homes around were like that; the surrounding blocks constituted a section of the old city that survived the war, before huge walls and fortified stone structures sprouted up around them.

Two soldiers were still on the stoop; one sitting, another standing, but the rest were nowhere to be seen. Were they gone?

“There were four this morning,” Cyrus said in a low voice.

“Called away on other business, I’d wager,” Velox said. “Makes this easier. Lucky us.” He winked and strode into view of the building’s stoop. Cyrus steeled his heart and together they approached.

“Who are you supposed to be?” the upright soldier called as the two drew close, a bob-haired woman with a muscular build.

“Your relief,” Velox said to her.

“Is that so?” she asked, glancing at the markings denoting rank on Velox’s uniform and adding “Captain.” Almost as an afterthought. “We’ve been ordered to guard this residence until day’s end. I’m afraid I must turn you away, sir.”

The implication was clear. She was pulling rank. The only thing that could supersede a captain was a major or General Wolf himself.

“I’m on major’s orders, too. Cade has need of you.” Velox shifted, and the Tapera necklace he wore caught the light of a street lantern, one of those enabled early by city workers to beat back the darkness of those ominous, undulating clouds above. The woman noticed then, Cyrus could see the recognition twist her expression from dismissive to interested. Yes, Velox was no mere captain of the enemy. Not someone she could brush off with a wave of the hand. An ally. A strange, unexpected one, but an ally nonetheless.

Then she looked at him.

And he stared right back at her.

No one… no one could ever put fear in him the way that assassin did. She searched him with a cold gaze, eventually making her way to the bracelet on his wrist. Seeing that satisfied her, and she turned back to Velox.

“What is the task?”

“Didn’t ask,” Velox said. He flipped his hands and shrugged. “I don’t question her. Says to jump, I jump. You know?”

“You should be more respectful,” the sitting man muttered. “Of Ace Cade.”

Cyrus was glad that neither of them had been looking at him just then, sheer surprise painted plain on his face. Velox hid it much better— a skill picked up from all that gambling he does, maybe.

“Never know who’s listening. Well.” He rubbed the back of his head and laughed. “Old habit at this point, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” the woman said. She sighed. “What are the higher-ups thinking? We already spared Andrews. Must we?”

“I will stay,” the male soldier said, rising. He had an unfortunate chin and a dangerous expression. The leather sheath of a long knife hung from his belt. He met Velox’s eyes. “I do not trust this half-wit.”

“Her orders—”

“Probably got mixed up inside that half-witted brain of yours. You are telling us to abandon a post that we were instructed to hold at all costs. And I will do so. At all costs.”

“Gamos. That’s enough,” the woman said.

“You’re fine with this?” the man asked, sneering. “She tasked us in person. In person. Do you know how many years it’s been since we last spoke with her? How many years since we were dropped into this Flocks-forsaken dump?”

“I…” she trailed off.

“We were told this job was important. I will not entrust it to a half-wit and a child.”

“Call me that one more time,” Velox growled, stepping closer.

“Yeah?” The man stepped closer as well. Inches apart, enough to smell each other’s breath. “What are you going to do about it?”

Two voices protested, but a third cut through both.

His own.

“Are you questioning?” It was a low hiss, as if from a venomous swirlsnake. It surprised all of them, including Cyrus himself. He remembered in a flash— a traumatized young man on a dusty street in the middle of nowhere, terror all around him. He grabbed that memory and crumpled it into a ball, making fists at his sides.

Enough of this.

I’m done being afraid. Done waiting to be saved.

All three stopped to watch him.

“Are you questioning Ace Cade?” he demanded. “Do you think she made a mistake?”

“My Ace? Never,” the man said, stepping back.

“Is your opinion of them so little?” he asked softly. “Aces aren’t like you or me. They live in a whole different world from us. They are the ones who will inherit everything forged by Emperor Munitio and the Elites. They are the most capable, competent, ruthless people in all of Asundria. We’re pieces in a game to them. Whether we serve or run or live or die means nothing to them. It terrifies me to my core. It should terrify you, too. Think carefully, very carefully, before you consider that an Ace has made a mistake. Question an Ace at your own peril. It might be the last question you ever ask. So tell me. Gamos. Are you questioning Ace Cade?”

He hissed the last part. Velox and the male soldier’s mouths hung open after he finished. The woman nodded to herself.

“…No,” Gamos finally croaked. He swallowed. “No. Of course not.”

“Then serve the cause.”

“I… I will.” The man’s eyes were wide, and he looked from the woman to Velox. “Where are we to report?”

“The intersection of Benth and Fulk,” Velox said.

The pair headed off without another word. Velox and Cyrus made a show of taking up their post, scanning the street with their backs to the house.

“Where did you send them?” Cyrus asked quietly.

“Other end of central Ulciscor. We’ve got a good fifteen minutes or so before they show up and find nobody there.” Velox studied him. “You saved our hides. That was well done. Where’d you pull all that from?”

He unclenched his fists. His hands were shaking. Badly.

“Experience,” he whispered.

Velox laid a hand on his shoulder and spun him halfway so they faced each other. He gave Cyrus a smile.

“You did good. Daniels will be grateful.” He nodded toward the front door. “Hard part’s over. Let’s get in there.”

———

Vander Wolf stepped out of the automobile and adjusted the high collar of his sharp silver and black uniform. His driver, dressed much the same, joined him shortly. The young man was calling after him.

“Lord Wolf, please! Let us do our job!”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, sour-faced.

The sound of a dying frog echoed behind him from a rear door of the automobile. It was Yulania laughing, of course. Wingless woman. Why he’d brought her along, he never…

“It all goes to the boy’s head, you know,” she said. She still named him boy sometimes, despite being old enough for grandchildren. “Every time you remind him of who he used to be.”

Vander acknowledged her with a glance. An elderly woman with a steel-gray bun of hair and wrinkled like a raisin. Most people would have gotten the full general’s glare, but he’d… rather not try that against Yulania. No, best not. Best not.

“I used to be a lot of things,” he said to the young driver. Both he and Yulania were dressed in silver and black, but did not have markings designating their rank. “The nobility is no more, Bartman. It’s not coming back. It shouldn’t. The emperor is right about that.”

A hard-faced woman appeared from the last door of their automobile and crossed over to stand at his side. Yulania joined them, balancing herself steadily on a black lacquered cane with a white wolf’s head handle.

A second automobile bearing more of the rankless pulled to a stop nearby. As they shuffled out, he turned to regard the looming building before them. Wide stone steps led up to western Mirastelle’s primary seat of government, the Ulciscor Council Building. Informally, it was known as the UCB. It was the most impressive of its peers in the city, rising high into the sky on pillars of marble and bearing impossibly wide glass windows. Neither side had been willing to bring this architectural marvel down during the war. Eight stories, he knew. There was to be a ninth, but he’d put an end to that plan.

He remembered those last days of the old order. Dark, decadent times, so long ago now. When the architects who built marvels such as this were considered lesser than those fools born into princedom. A meritocracy was the only path forward for humanity. He truly believed that. That was why he’d accepted Amon Munitio’s offer. Why he’d become of the Elites.

He nodded and started forward into the building, flanked by seven of the most merited and loyal men and women he had ever known.