{???}

The torrent battered the beach’s white sands in a ceaseless barrage for over two months. Concession stands, beach loungers, and sandcastles all drowned in the deluge. Lightning struck violent waves, and thunder rumbled the heavy clouds. The scent of ozone and foam permeated the air. An island beyond the riptide erupted, and a small cone formed from the molten rock. The fiery liquid poured into the raging sea, inviting the lightning to taste the ash there.

Manifestations of her grief and rage, Rayne soaked the rain into her pale skin. Curled her toes in the wet sand. Let the water drip from her long black hair, fingertips, and clothes. Despite the long sleeves of her tunic and the full length of her tights, a chill settled in about an hour ago. Now Rayne was numb. Even hugging herself under the downpour offered little relief.

None of this was real.

Well, almost none of it.

“Rayne.”

Nox was real. More real than the combat boot sinking into the sand behind her with his single tentative step toward her. He was the only thing real in her simulated conscience. “Come back inside. We must discuss the stratagem to greater effect.”

Lightning struck when Rayne looked over her shoulder at him. It splintered in the reflection of his black eyes. The wind danced with his dark hair, dryer than her own. He lingered, dressed in black, between her constructs—the strategy simulator and the beach.

War and sanctuary.

Nox stood where Rayne’s worlds collided, and he asked her to join him in war.

She straightened and closed her eyes with her face upturned to the troubled sky.

Deep breath.

Ever since Abresson killed John, their people betrayed them, and Imminent took her, Nox and Rayne discussed strategy for days on end. Occasionally, she educated him in construct manipulation. But every fourth day or thereabouts, she wandered outside of the dry simulator with its mauve projections of their fronts and into the storm that embraced her with clarity.

Rayne fought for the Shadow, for Earth, and for Cinder. To make Xelan proud and to create a safer galaxy for Tameka and Pax. She did not fight for hate or revenge, but lately she struggled with a gnawing need.

Violence.

She wanted to hurt those who hurt her family.

“Rayne.”

The sleeping King opened her eyes. It was like Nox knew, and he found productive ways to distract her from it. Elden, her sanity owed him for it.

Rayne spun fast enough that her hair sluiced water in an impressive arc. Soaked, she glanced up—all the way up their eleven-inch height difference—to meet Nox’s gaze. Slightly—so timid in their interactions with each other—he nodded to her with respect, plain for her to see.

“I’ll regret it until I’m gone, until I’m dust, and long after.”

Even with every awful sin Nox committed against her and Earth—when she looked in his eyes, Rayne believed he’d confessed his truth to her months ago. So they collaborated to work on that whole “safer galaxy” aspiration. And he didn’t question her objectively odd behaviors. Elden knew the man had a few of his own.

“Let us begin with Silence.” Nox followed her into the room, touched the projection, and brought Silence’s outline to the forefront.

Rayne sighed as she recited perfectly from memory, “Surra. Your mother’s mother. Wife of Elden. Originator of Imminent referred to as ‘Mother of my People.’” She paused a moment as she reflected on the name “Silence.”

Three days into their relocation to Enki, Nox and Rayne eavesdropped on a conversation between Smith and the Icarean female.

Smith sounded both curious and hesitant. “Forgive me for asking, but if Surra is your name, why do we call you Silence?”

“My father named me ‘Surra.’ My husband named me ‘Silence.’ And Imminent named me ‘Mother.’ Elden said that in council, I wielded silence as a weapon. And as his enforcer, he wielded me. I was his Silence.”

At Nox’s curious brow, Rayne continued her recitation. “Uncle Vinco’s Verse described a deity or an apparition bearing Surra’s description. She would appear at night to soldiers that would die the next day. ‘Before your death, there was Silence.’ Known for saying, ‘On your death, a world ends with you. Know the stars will fall still and weep for you.’ As a member of Imminent, she saw outcomes of battles through the Probability Matrix. We believe this was her attempt to absolve her conscience.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Rayne understood this. What she didn’t understand was war in Elden’s time at all. “I thought Elden’s time was a golden era?”

“This predates my grasp of our history as well. Karter might know.” He hid a wince at her name by thrusting his fingers into his hair as if frustrated.

Again. Rayne understood. They both listened as Abresson and Remorse complained without end about how the Valkyrie were always too busy to commit them into the breeding program. Silence assigned the female Icari on missions and frequently reminded the men that Karter and Para were infinitely more useful without their wombs occupied, hindering their agility, speed, and strength.

The constant insistence on their unavailability sparked something in Rayne. She felt so stupid when she realized it was optimism. As if Silence was more than an agent of Imminent? Upon this realization, she’d spent another week standing in the storm to wash away the shame of hope.

Nox shifted the image to Primary Rem. Rayne stared up at the three-dimensional projection and hated it. He tortured every King of Cinder into capitulation. Made monsters of them. Although, Umbra was still on trial as far as she was concerned. Rayne didn’t know enough of his story. Glancing at Nox, she reminded herself it was easy to hate what one didn’t know, but once someone’s entire story unfolded, hate often slipped from her and into the ocean. Like the magma from that island, it cooled and eased.

Maybe the same was true for Remorse…

“Nox, when the Progeny first met Primary Rem, he told us a version of Cinder’s history. He said the Tritans weaponized Li after they discovered Elden established an army set on scouring the galaxy for the source of his nacre. ‘The foreigners.’”

As he listened to her story, Nox folded his arms over his chest with his eyes narrowed in concentration. When she finished, he gravely shook his head. “That contradicts everything I know of our people. My entire childhood, mother—Savis—told us that Umbra formed Cinder’s first warriors, the Valkyrie, in my lifetime. Given your source, I struggle to credit this alternative history.”

Rayne opened her mouth to question him when he held up a finger. She nodded for him to continue, and only then did he elaborate.

“But given this new information we have and your interpretation of the timeline of events, I am willing to reconsider it. I’ll have to sort through Uncle Vinco’s Verse. When he mentioned battles in his history, I always assumed he referred to some time after Li’s expansion but before my earliest memories. Now, we must know what came before Elden’s fall—”

{I am not the monster you once thought me to be. But I’m not sure I qualify as a man. I have always been lesser, and my gravest fear is that the ones I love most will one day see me for what I am.

A slave without a people. A slave without a home.

Rayne, your majesty, wherever you are, if you can hear this—I hope you recognize the unmistakable charm and magnificence in my voice. This is my Verse.}

Oh, there was no mistaking it. “Korac! Nox, can you believe—”

Nox stopped breathing. The former King of Cinder stared upward into the black emptiness, frozen. The intensity in his eyes only enhanced the ferocity that permeated every fiber of his being.

Korac’s Verse, a recording of it broadcasted to the entire Vast Collective, continued, and Rayne changed the scenery. A couch, fireplace, and hexagonal walls lined with books. This transformation occurred around the massive Icarus without so much as a muscle twitch in acknowledgment. Now it was Rayne’s turn.

“Nox.”

He snapped to her without hesitation, and only then did he recognize the space. “Xelan’s study in the stronghold?”

Rayne smiled sadly as she nestled into her plush corner of the leather sofa. Many nights she spent here reading her fallen mentor’s diaries until passing out. In her scene, Nox constructed a matching armchair and sat across the coffee table from her. It was good practice to manipulate the space. They sat together in companionable silence, listening to Korac.

Well, until Rayne’s tears. Korac’s childhood and Sagan’s reaction to it pummeled Rayne’s heart. Prior to this moment, Nox gazed upward at the source of the broadcast, but after her first sniffle, he peered over at Rayne. To her surprise, Nox didn’t hide his own distress at Korac’s upbringing. There was a tightness to his eyes and a frown to his full mouth that implied regret.

“I suspected, but I never asked.”

Rayne had to clear her throat before she could speak. “It sounds as though he appreciated the privacy. I think he viewed his time on Gait and his time on Cinder as two different lifetimes better kept separate.”

Nox dipped his head to her logic and returned his gaze to beyond the ceiling. They listened in silence until the scene in which Korac introduced Pehton.

{Do you remember Pehton, your majesty? As if you could forget. She and Tumu detained you for your Tribunal. That was one of your most impressive performances. I was proud to await trial beside you, sprite. I knew Xelan would be proud too, but I suppose you can tell him about it yourself when you two finally reunite.

[SS]: It’s a day we’re all looking forward to, Rayne. There’s a pool going. Two thousand credits say Xelan will cry first. Of course, those are all Tameka’s credits. I put five hundred in that both of you would cry at the same time. Don’t let me down, babe.}

Now it was Rayne’s turn to freeze.

“Xel… Xelan…” Her words left on a breath, and her heart pounded in her chest. “Xelan’s alive…” Every famous grin he ever flashed passed through her mind, including his very last—

The couch dipped beside her, but Rayne hardly noticed.

Every encouraging word during training. Every goofy name he’d always announced so proudly. All his hugs…

Every.

Last.

One.

“Tameka will lose the wager,” Nox declared from beside her.

Hollowed out to make room for this new revelation—a world with Xelan in it once more—Rayne looked up to meet Nox’s eyes, blinking in shock.

The powerful figure on the couch with her reached over and caught a single tear as it fell from her cheek. He held it for her to see. “I’d take that wager. Sagan primed you to cry first. Tameka already lost. Do you want in?”

Nox’s sudden good humor shocked the clarity into Rayne that she so desperately sought. After another heartbeat, she laughed. It was so absurd. “He’s alive, Nox.” She squeezed her eyes shut to allow the tears to flow freely. “Xelan…”

When his weight shifted on the couch, Rayne opened her eyes to find Nox leaning forward with his elbows rested on his knees. He worried his hands in a nervous gesture. Softly, he said, “We must include him in our calculations. He’ll come for you. How does that factor into the stratagem?”

Rayne grinned, despite the tears on her face. “I can do this. We can reunite the Shadow, and I can still destroy the Tritans without destroying Enki or myself. I believe in us.”