A beam of Light shot out from Sen’s Mirror. It left a path that only Poire could follow. It ran up the sloping sides of the pyramid and wrapped around the gate.

Go that way, and Poire would see his friends again. He would be safe.

Machines swarmed overhead. They watched and waited for him, for they had learned they could not touch Sen’s Light. They would not come down here—they would not touch the Light. But if they were given half a chance, if Poire wandered off the path even a little, they would kill Poire in an instant. This would set the Light free, the Light that had lived and grown in Poire for ten thousand years.

His death would reach the ends of the universe, and obliterate every particle of matter. Most likely, the Swarm would have no understanding of what they wrought.

The path of life or the path of nothing? The truth was, there was no choice. Both paths led to the same end.

Death is inevitable, Poire thought. Even the gods must one day die.

Poire stared up at the ships. They stared back, almost as if they were hesitant to move in on him. Perhaps they still think Sen has power here.

But they were only machines. What did they care, if they lived or died?

Poire impulsed a surge of power through the Mirror, making it glow brighter for a brief moment. The waves of machines above moved, as though uncertain of Poire. Maybe I give them too little credit. Maybe they fear death, too.

This was good, because it meant he could call home one last time. He impulsed a connection, using Sen’s extremely long-range architecture to form a connection between the pyramid, here, and the reception systems in the Cauldron.

A voice from the ancient past answered.

“I’m sorry, Admin Poire,” the Oracle chirped brightly. “I can’t find anyone right now. They’re all busy.”

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“Oh,” Poire said, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice. He still watched the machines above. So… he would not get to hear their voices one more time.

“I can deliver a message?” the Oracle offered helpfully.

Poire swallowed his sadness.

“Tell Khadam the Swarm is alive. She might already know this, but in case she doesn’t, tell her we found a brain in the one we killed. A human brain. Tell her… maybe we’re not the only ones left.”

The Oracle chimed, acknowledging the message. “Anything else?”

“Tell Eolh,” he started. Stopped. Don’t do it. Don’t break down.

Poire inhaled slowly, and tried again, “Tell Eolh I’m sorry. It’s the only way. And I know what you would say. You would tell me what a gods-damned idiot I’m being. And I would tell you that if there was anything else I could do-”

The waves of machines shuddered apart, as a new, huge ship shoved between them. It had a long bow, one that reminded Poire of a revolving gun chamber, or a spiralling three-pronged drill. Hundreds of vicious-looking drones nestled in its bow, their shapes fluttering lightly as they prepared themselves to dislodge and throw themselves at Poire, or the Mirror, or both.

He didn’t know how much time was left. Part of him wondered if the machines could hear him—if they were clinging to his every word.

“Eolh, I don’t want to hang up,” he said. “I’m scared. I wish you were here, with me. I wish… I wish I could hear your stupid voice again. And the way you laugh, who laughs like that? Have you heard yourself?” Poire tried imitating the corvani’s crow-like croaking, and he sniffed and laughed at himself for talking like such a fool. “Maybe we sound stupid to you, too. I wish I could elbow you awake again, the next time you start snoring. You do snore, you know? I don’t care. I’d let you snore all you want. I wish you were here…”

And with that, in all the worlds, in all the galaxies, there were no more wishes left in his heart. He wiped his face, and sniffed one of his last breaths of air. “Thank you, Eolh. Will you tell Laykis I did the best I could? I tried to be everything she wanted. But I am only what I am. I gave everything I had.”

After Poire went silent, the Oracle asked, “Anything else?”

“Send.”

Poire said. And then, he said goodbye.

The human turned his back on the waves of machines. They rattled and clattered against each other, and one of the drones couldn’t hold itself back. It, alone, started the surge as thousands of constructs and ships and machines created by unfathomable, digital minds poured down into the pyramid. It sounded like earth-shaking thunder, endless, and it only grew louder.

Poire placed his hand on the glass of the Mirror. And sent out one last impulse.

Death was coming. Not even the gods could escape it…

…but that didn’t mean he had to die in this universe.

Poire opened the Mirror—

—and stepped into another existence.