When Xelan had forced Devis’ memory on Celindria, she’d learned there was love somewhere left inside her. But when the young Roberts girl shoved hers, Lucy’s, and Matt’s memories down Celindria’s hippocampus—

Respect.

Celindria rarely experienced the sentiment, but there was no other appropriate reaction to the methodical vengeance delivered upon members of every species. And the creativity of their kills? Not to mention Bethany’s recuperation of agency and power. By far, they were the only Shadow worthy of Celindria’s respect.

Expulsion from her agents had hurt, but not as much as the loss of potential opportunity.

“Come with me, Celindria.”

Eight thousand years.

Celindria had waited eight thousand years to hear Nox say those words. But what did it mean that he’d asked her to come with him to face father? That he asked while standing beside Celindria’s errant descendant?

She couldn’t argue against his logic for not killing Rayne. Father wouldn’t accept their ploy of redemption if Nox had murdered Rayne first. Then, how could they infiltrate the Shadow and take Iona Pax from beneath them?

What if it wasn’t a ploy Nox was suggesting?

What if he means for us to surrender?

We could be together in prison, and one day free to live our lives.

In that case, Celindria would negotiate conditions of her surrender. Hope and her family must migrate to the dominant Probability. Pax will need to leave Paradise and join his family, as well. Father would find a way. She would not abandon them.

We hurt Pax’s feelings.

How could we shout those things at him?

We made our little brother cry.

Pax would adjust and learn from his mistakes. Sometimes harsh words were necessary, and far less cruel than Celindria’s initial instinct to add him to her body slice collection. It wouldn’t equal half the torment in her heart.

Nox.

Lost.

There was no reviving the construct or rejuvenating the energy from his nacre. All those expensive and impossible to attain components… Wasted on one breath. A breath filled with nothing but hatred for Celindria.

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We can’t go through this again.

Join the real Nox in the dominant reality.

Complete the Eternal Bind.

Before the girl, Bethany, had thrust Celindria from her agents, she’d considered taking Nox’s hand. But it was better this way. She needed to think and share this opportunity with Hope and Pax.

Celindria’s actual body was still staring at her fallen Nox construct where she was curled around herself on the floor. Pax had long since ran off to hide his tears from his unfeeling sister, somewhere deeper in the lab. As the eldest, Celindria would consult Hope first. Pax would be here when she returned, perhaps in a mood to listen to his sister’s apology and potentially good news.

With a brush of her white skirts, Celindria got to her feet and walked into the nearest shadow—

Into nothing.

The shadow refused to take her. Celindria tried again and simply stepped through to the other side of the shade.

Again.

And again.

Celindria’s hand trembled as she reached for the shadow one more time, and her breath hitched when nothing happened.

Deep breath.

Try another reality—

She stepped into the Palatial Grounds in the dominant reality. All things here looked as before.

With a soft cry, Celindria tried Hope’s reality again.

Nothing.

Unwelcome panic returned, and Celindria retreated to Paradise—To scream. To throw her fist through a wall.

“Hope!!! HOPE!”

Grief replaced panic, and she certainly wasn’t ready for it. “No. No, no, no—Hope?!”

When the thought came, it rang through the fog of panic and grief, resonating clear as a bell.

The Probability Matrix is shrinking.

There’s nothing we can do.

Hope is gone.

Covered in white dust from the broken stone, Celindria tried to draw a soothing breath, but they were all raw with anguish. A voice was murmuring, repeating. It was hers.

“Not my daughter. Not my Hope. Not my little girl…”

Grief dissipated, and Celindria gripped herself in scientific logic. Perhaps within the Probability Matrix were collected histories, version control of all the Probabilities. With renewed determination, Celindria marched down the length of the lab’s primary aisle, destined for the bottom floor of the space scraper. For Ishkur’s bridge.

There, Celindria could run analysis to test her hypothesis and retrieve a backup or open a way into Hope’s reality.

I wish we could ask father for help.

He would find a way.

And he would do it for us. For hope—

Celindria snarled and screamed, frustrated—Frustration. A useless emotion, but it was almost as common as solitude. Composing herself, she dusted the white powder off her dark skin, hair, and clothes. Deep inhale. Heavy exhale.

There must be a way—

“Sister!!” Pax sounded scared.

Celindria bolted into the lab, running toward his station, where he was still screaming for her. “Pax! What is it?! I’m coming!”

A vacuum pulled her back. Air flowed in, but not from the glass walls of the space scraper. There was nothing. Black emptiness consumed the lab, starting from the four corners and working its way inward.

All around Celindria, the walls fell away into an abyss, drawing her in.

It wasn’t panic this time. Or grief.

Celindria felt white fiery rage. “Not my baby brother. No. PAX?!”

His little voice squeezed out in a thin wail against the vacuum. “I can’t hold on!”

Truth be told, Celindria was not getting to him. She was clawing at structural beams and glass cubicles to pull herself closer—But he kept slipping further away. The pull was too strong.

Squeezing her eyes closed, rage gave way to resignation. She shouted, “Pax! Listen to me!”

“Celindria!” His voice grew more distant.

“I will find you! I will not fail you!”

Before the Probability reached total collapse, Celindria dove into the nearest shadow and left Pax to face his fate alone.