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The Vast Collective Series Books #9-13
Cascading Light 15.5 Scorch

Cascading Light 15.5 Scorch

Something Aegis was behind the dominant Probability, and Celindria aimed to seek it out.

Jack, Ross, Devis, and Andrius had left the memory labs within Ishkur’s central complex an hour ago. It was more than enough time to assume they were gone for the evening. One female Lamia in her inventory was an old customer of Razor’s, and Celindria took advantage of her post as a complex guard. As one large muscle, Celindria found she favored the Lamian form for the simple scientific indulgence. This powerful specimen was no exception.

Graceful and sensuous, Celindria glided the guard into the lab. Having memorized the rounds, she knew there was only a twenty-minute window to secure it for her ends.

Celindria, as herself, shadow-walked into the unoccupied space and approached the table with a single nacre.

Our greatest rival.

A true pioneer in vice.

Razor.

Millennia ago, Celindria had perfected the memory capsules and Divine Booth technology, but she could also manipulate existing memory banks. After swallowing a capsule, she touched the manufactured nacre, positioned herself within a shadow, and stepped into Razor’s memory scape.

Skinless.

Celindria stared at her hands, arms, legs—Her entire body was without skin. The muscle, sinew, organs, and veins left open and raw. She felt none of it, as if her nerve endings were stripped along with her emotions.

Isn’t this how we always feel?

Open, but dead?

Into the memory scape, Celindria asked, “Why?”

Black walls surrounded her, and white chalk wrote along the blank pages of sheet music.

No feelings; no pain. Isn’t that what you said to Pehton on the day you left her? Another victim in your wake of devastation.

The nightmare of Celindria’s exposed insides should terrify her, but she felt nothing. If anything, it piqued her curiosity and gave her new ideas for torturing the Shadow once she conquered Iona Pax.

Celindria ignored the dramatic spectacle and asked without lips, “Could an Aegis have infiltrated Imminent without you recognizing him or her? A lower initiate, perhaps?”

Yes.

“Were you more cooperative with the Shadow?” Celindria rolled her eyes, realizing there were no lids and wondered how it looked from the outside.

The perception filters would prevent me from recognizing them, but I only know of one pure-blood Aegis missing from our ranks. One, my eldest brother, and my father’s favorite.

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Before the source, when Celindria could feel more freely, she and Razor had commiserated over their paternal misgivings. She asked, “Do you know for how long?”

Before the Tritans arrived to Enki. Before Surra discovered Cascading Light.

Celindria bit her thumbnail before she could stop herself. For a long while, she stared at the floor, considering all things and how they mattered. When she looked back up, the text had changed.

You will never find happiness. Not this way.

She turned away from it, only to see another message on the opposite wall.

Remorse manipulated us, even you. While you still can, seek Xelan’s forgiveness.

We should listen to him.

No, we’ve come too far.

“Razor. You must know I’ve collected thousands of DNA samples from you and Triss. I can resurrect you both if you side with me against the Shadow.” Celindria meant every word. Her competition with Razor over the millennia had inspired countless invaluable innovations. An alliance could only lead to more.

An image replaced the text on the walls. It was black and white aside from Triss’ red feathers and her yellow eyes. The couple were dancing in the Obsidian Palace, while the crowd stepped aside to watch. Lithe and exotic, Triss was a deadly combination of beauty and lethality. Insanely devoted to her god. Celindria had never identified with her, but appreciated the psychopath’s legacy of bodies in the name of loyalty.

Black text appeared over the images.

If you stay this course, you will find yourself alone and knowing you deserve it.

Pax.

Hope.

Nox.

Dissatisfaction—an emotion Celindria loathed—surged inside her, and she terminated the connection. Back in her beautiful dark skin, she was ready to rip her hair out. How could someone as intelligent as Razor allow the Shadow to reduce him to this penitent bitch—

“Celindria.”

First, through the Lamia guard’s eyes, Celindria watched Tumu enter the lab. As herself, she turned and faced him. Quick as lightning, he shot the Lamia with a nacre-disabling rifle, disconnecting Celindria’s volition control. Then he aimed it at her.

Kill him!

No! Father will never agree to our contingency if we kill his trusted Tritan.

When Tumu didn’t fire immediately, Celindria asked, “What must be in your head, Primary?”

“You’re standing on a shadow. You’ll escape before I can fire the shot.”

If Celindria could feel surprise, her brows might shoot up. Instead, she blinked at him and waited for an explanation.

How does he know of our gifts?

Tumu was always more than he seemed.

Tumu kept his sights on Celindria as he stepped closer. He stopped a meter away to say, “We pity you. Paradise was an abomination, but how could a creature like you understand why?”

A pain lanced through Celindria, stronger than any emotion she’d felt in some time. It took her breath away. “I don’t ask for your pity.”

The old Primary’s voice dropped into an impossible octave and rattled her bones. “You will. In two days, you will beg us for it.”

Light indignation replaced the pain, and Celindria scoffed, “I will never beg.”

“Two days, Celindria. Pray we are merciful.”

Enraged by the conversation, she stepped into the shadow and walked into a neighboring Probability. Here, Celindria stood in an empty lab in Ishkur’s undiscovered bridge. All electrical systems, including atmosphere and gravity, were left on autopilot before the Aegis had abandoned it. They’d never returned.

Not a soul lived here.

Celindria’s rushed footsteps echoed along the gangplanks and corridors of unrealized potential. Her least favorite Probability, for here she truly felt alone.

The Shadow made for entertaining adversaries, and she loved Pax and Hope. Wanted Nox. Glancing down at the ribbon in her hand, Celindria wondered.

We should listen to Razor.

No. We should spend the next two days preparing.

Love.

Conquest.

Both.

For the first time, Celindria wondered about ‘neither.’