“Wicked heart and wicked mind

Did set their schemes upon the land

Where heretic is free from time

And severance of bonds is planned…”

—Famed poet Ozmolie Gambon, in his book, Reconciliations of Imperial Life, a book of poems about surviving captivity in the Marked Empire

The dig site never stopped moving, a loosely organized chaos in motion. Sivanya navigated the narrow, bustling throughways with ease while Zaina struggled, having to dash aside to avoid bumping into hurrying strangers.

“The unmarked live in the nearby city of Deonago,” Sivanya began. “I should have known things would come to this—their leader seemed a good man; one of the ones who tried. But his son is different. Dirzo. He’s been leading forays into this forest—which is legally our land, by the way—for the past five years now. Nothing too intense—we lose one every once in a while, they lose a few every once in a while. Skirmishes. We weren’t trying to hurt them, though I doubt they shared that conviction.”

“It’s a noble one,” Zaina said.

“And one that’s cost us too much already. I’m well past putting their lives above those of my own people. Now any unmarked in our forest perishes.”

Zaina winced—she hated the idea of being so callous and casual about death, even if she logically understood why Sivanya felt that way. “I guess in war you have to do what you have to do.”

“That’s the unfortunate truth,” Sivanya said. “We’re dealing with people who would see us exterminated to the last and happily dance on our graves. Living in opposition to such hatred doesn’t allow room for compassion or kindness. Would that I could walk the moral high ground, but not at the cost of my people’s survival.”

“Hence the temple,” Zaina said.

A smile crept over Sivanya’s face. “Yes. The temple.”

“How exactly is it going to protect us?”

“All we have to do is get inside,” Sivanya replied. “The rest has already been taken care of. There’s a reason the Alliance of Worlds, in eons of old, imported billions of tons of stone and dirt to bury this place for what they hoped was forever. To them, it was the most dangerous thing imaginable.”

“So it is a superweapon?”

“No,” Sivanya said with a smirk, “it’s a sanctuary. A place where only the marked are permitted to enter; ancient magick keeps all others out. A place where we can be safe—where you could be safe, even from the Eldritch’s influence.”

Zaina could hardly believe her ears. “It can block out the Eldritch?”

Sivanya stared at the uncovered bit of temple with an expression of worshipful hope. “It can block out anything. That magick is the reason the temple’s still standing, after all; why it’s kept its shape after all this time, even after being bombed and buried and forgotten. The marked who stood within its walls spoke of a serene peace within themselves—every voice stilled, no matter its origin.”

That had to be too good to be true. “But—if that’s true—what makes that so dangerous?”

“Think about it from their point of view,” Sivanya answered. “Their greatest fear is a group of marked beyond their reach—beyond their ability to slaughter when they decide to. But if we get inside that temple, there’s nothing they can do to hurt us ever again—the idea that we’d be truly safe from them would be unacceptable in their eyes. No more threats from Dirzo, or from any lancer—or anyone. For us, such a thing is salvation. But think about it from their point of view: the idea of us existing beyond their cruelty is the ultimate reprieve for an ancient enemy.”

Zaina didn’t even have to lie. “If that’s really what’s down there, that sounds like an ideal solution to me.”

“There’s a reason we’re digging up what once was buried,” Sivanya replied. “Imagine a place where every marked can be their true selves—no interference from the outside world, no dark voices, no hiding, no having to scrap and scrape by some meager, fear-fraught existence. We can live.”

Zaina frowned. She almost wished Sivanya was looking to uncover a superweapon—that would have been much more straightforward. As was the usual, the mission was getting complicated and people’s lives were at stake. Is the temple dangerous, or is it a sanctuary? Is it worth the risk to find out?

“You seem perturbed,” Sivanya said. “I’m sorry—I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, with that thing’s voice in your head. I imagine you must have so many questions—ask them openly.”

“Does getting my mark from the Eldritch make me—different? And—if you didn’t get your mark from the Eldritch, well—where did you get it from? And—”

“One at a time, please,” Sivanya said with an amused grin. “In a manner of speaking, yes. It does make you unique amongst our brothers and sisters. Everyone else received their mark from another, often older and more powerful marked—if a marked becomes well-versed enough in Dominion, our Magick, they can bestow the mark upon others. Mine was given to me by a man named Hildark about seven centuries ago, though I’ve since lost touch.”

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“I’m sorry to hear that,” Zaina said.

“Oh, don’t be. He was a horrid man. He wanted an army of servants for some nefarious purpose—I wanted something different out of my life.”

“Seems like you found it,” Zaina said.

“Yes,” she replied with a distant smile, “I suppose I did. Now—next question.”

“Right. You said before you’d understand if I don’t want to summon my fang; why is that?”

“I’m guessing you don’t know what it means to delve.”

Zaina shrugged.

“I’m glad you don’t, to be honest; you’ve resisted the voices, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I don’t want anything to do with that—thing.”

“Good,” Sivanya replied. “Delving is the act of not resisting the voices—of letting them pull you into the depths within yourself, so to speak. That’s how the marked gain power—summoning fangs, using Dominion, that sort of thing. But to enter the void is to have the void enter your very being, too—you lose pieces of yourself, first smaller, then bigger, and over time you bend to the will of who or what marked you. It’s understandable if anyone—including yourself—doesn’t feel comfortable with it. I delved a bit, myself. I’m missing pieces of who I used to be. But—in my case, at least, I’d say it was worth it. Now I can better defend my people.”

“I don’t know,” Zaina said. “It sounds like a terrible tradeoff.”

“I suppose only time will tell.” Sivanya’s head tilted to one side. “In your case, the Eldritch would take more than pieces—it would most likely try to swallow you whole. That’s what makes your mark unique—it’s bound directly to the Eldritch. If you do not get inside the temple, your fate will always be linked to it. The rest of us were given—how to say this?—marks with some measure of dilution.”

“Dilution?”

“In a manner of speaking. Mine comes from a marked with the Gift of Marking—that means there’s some layers between myself and the source of all marked power. Whoever gave Hildark his mark likely got it from the Eldritch, or some older marked who did; there’s a few degrees of separation.”

Now Zaina was really intrigued. “It all comes from the same place?”

“Of course,” Sivanya said. “The voices all come from the same shadow—the Eldritch. It created the marked over two million years ago for its own foul purposes. Hence why it’s far more dangerous for you to delve than any of us.”

Zaina nodded. “Makes sense. So you’re more bound to this Hildark guy, if he’s still alive, than the Eldritch?”

Sivanya’s head tilted back and forth. “Eh, it’s complicated. Those with the Gift of Marking don’t exhibit the same level of influence or outright control as the Eldritch.”

“I see.” It was all a bit much, but it made sense—mostly.

Sivanya smiled. “I like you. You’re a shining example of everything we are.”

Taken aback and feeling her cheeks turn warm, Zaina replied, “Huh? I—I don’t know what you mean.”

An elegant laugh flowed into Zaina’s ears. Then, Sivanya said, “We marked are not the strange gifts we’ve been given. No matter how much that cold darkness wants us, we can resist it—we can have the bravery to choose to be who we truly are.”

The words struck Zaina, setting her aflame with emotion. A strange mixture of suspicion, relief, doubt, and guilt settled into her stomach and spread out. Sivanya was saying all the right things and Zaina wanted to believe her—wanted to believe in her cause of allowing the marked to live their lives unfettered by external hate. But Zaina had come here to deceive her, a woman who only wanted what was best for her people—if her words could be believed.

“It might seem a foolish goal to some,” Sivanya said. “Ah, but look, here we are.”

They had made it through the complex maze of equipment and workers and broken through to the other side, only twenty feet from the cliff face and the uncovered bit of the temple. From here the scaffolding rigged to the side of the mountain was much more imposing and twice as haphazard, creaking and groaning and shifting as the marked workers climbed up and down.

The temple was tightly constricted by rock, and the hum of powered drills rang out as miners excavated it inch by inch. There were no visible windows or entrances. It appeared to be made of glossy black stone, and there was not a chip upon its surface.

Sivanya approached, and two miners stepped aside as she put a hand on the temple. “This, entombed beneath fifty feet of stone, will be our salvation.”

One of the workers, a young woman, said, “Hey, could we get the rest of the night off after the sun sets? I been going for two days straight, and I still ain’t used to getting this little sleep.”

“Absolutely,” Sivanya said. “Rest up and prepare for the final push. I have a feeling we’ll have our breakthrough soon.”

“Thank you, My Lady,” the woman bowed. “Who’s this? New recruit for digging?”

“Possibly,” Sivanya turned to Zaina with a warm grin. “She hasn’t decided where she wants to be yet. Zaina, this is Ylasna—Ylasna, Zaina.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Zaina said.

“Charmed,” Ylasna said.

“She’s helping to uncover the temple,” Sivanya explained, “and doing an excellent job, if I might say so myself.”

“Doing the best I can with what I’m given is all,” Ylasna replied. “We could use every hand we can get, though—don’t want to sway you one way or another, but that’s all I’m saying.”

“Plus,” the other worker said, “we could use more ladies around here. Most of ‘em joined Rasmus’ group.”

Ylasna punched the man’s arm. “You shut your fuckin’ mouth. You’re gonna scare her off like you did the last one.”

Zaina didn’t know how to react, so she didn’t say anything.

Sivanya shook her head. “Behave yourself, Jyree. Forgive him, he can be a bit forward. He still hasn’t given up the idea that he’ll win me over one day—not that I terribly mind.”

“One date,” Jyree said, “you’ll fall in love with me. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Perhaps once we’re safe,” Sivanya replied with a coy laugh. “Now—come, Zaina, and I’ll find you a tent. It doesn’t sound like much, and it isn’t, but you get used to it after a while.”

Zaina waved goodbye to Ylasna and Jyree and followed Sivanya as she turned left and walked off.

“They seem nice,” Zaina said.

“They’re a rough lot, but they have good hearts,” Sivanya said. “I think that can be said for most of us. Living with the mark tends to roughen anyone’s edges in this galaxy.”

They walked alongside the mountain until they came to the edge of the forest. Sivanya led her into the woods, where tall, circular tents were scattered between the trees; the tents were painted brown and green to fit in with their surroundings, and each was larger than Zaina expected. There was little noise in the encampment.

“This is where those of us who sleep do so,” Sivanya said. “I’m sure you probably have a lot to think about, so let’s find you a place where you can have some measure of privacy.”

They searched for about ten minutes until they came to an empty tent.

“This one,” she said. “It belonged to Koagu, who perished last week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Zaina said.

“It’s the nature of things at the moment,” Sivanya replied, her voice laced with sorrow and spite. “Now—I’ll come find you in the morning so you can meet Rasmus and the girls. For now, get some sleep—if you want to eat, there’s a supply depot three tents down. It’s not much, but it’ll quench your hunger and thirst if you’re still so inclined.”

“Thank you so much,” Zaina said. “I don’t—words can’t express how grateful I am for all this.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sivanya said. “I’m glad you found your way to us, Zaina Quin.”

With that, the enclave’s leader walked back toward the mine, leaving Zaina with a tempestuous storm of thoughts.