{Cinder | Near 6,000BCE}

The first ten nights in Nox’s bed were a blur of erotic stimulation and steady infusions of oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine. Celindria laid under an Icarean cotton sheet, eyes closed, surveying her body. Deliciously sore, she stretched and surveyed her internal functions. Mild dehydration and the beginnings of hunger—

Three days.

Sex with Nox had left Celindria unconscious for three days.

Wow.

Why had she even awakened—

Flowers.

Celindria’s eyes snapped open. Blossoms of all colors and shapes filled the room in massive bouquets. There were other scents. She sought them out. Jasmine and oils…

Behind one impressive display of lilies at the foot of Nox’s bed, Celindria spied a tub filled with steaming blue water and petals. The water on Cinder was black, so Nox needed to have this bath imported from Earth.

Celindria could become accustomed to such indulgences.

But we know we should not.

Why not? Are we not entitled to pleasure and comfort?

We ruin Nox—Always.

Perhaps this time will be different. It must be.

But we already know Nox deviates from Imminent’s initial predictions. Remorse told us so, and we already bore the Tritan’s young.

A woman can have multiple histories without them condemning her—

Not a woman like us.

Celindria dunked her head under the water, bathing her locs and braids. Oils lined the brim of the tub to cleanse and moisturize her skin and hair.

Nox was always so considerate.

Until Celindria condemns her lover to the Wrong Side of Eternity.

{Palatial Grounds | Sagan and Korac’s Wedding}

To witness the world through a billion lenses required a disciplined mind and a wealth of patience. Celindria watched the Shadow and each of their alternate realities file into Sagan’s conduit for the stronghold in a kaleidoscope of colors, fabrics, and smiles.

Father stole the proverbial spotlight from his former lover. It was so richly petty. Celindria approved.

Xelan’s Verse would soon surface, as had all the others, and Celindria wouldn’t miss it for the Probability Matrix. Her golden gown spun with her turn as Celindria faced her armament. Her soldiers’ eyes stared blankly beneath their hoods as she danced inside their minds.

Twelve hundred.

It was such a clean number for an escort force. A dozen hundred. Each of them had surrendered their volition in exchange for favors, while none of them understood what they had signed away. This mixed assortment of Icari, drones, Lamias, humans, and dwarves was only a taste.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Bored of the scene, Celindria stepped into the nearest shadow and walked into an alternate grounds some seven thousand Probabilities removed. From this Ishkur’s barren wasteland, Celindria traveled anonymously through a series of conduits to this universe’s Cinder. Once there, she flew hundreds of kilometers to a cave dwelling in Cinder’s conglomeration of apartments, careful she wasn’t followed. The small abode smelled of ash, as with all of Cinder. But under the pervading stench of Li’s scorching punishment, Celindria made out the aroma of fresh baked bread and love.

As not to alarm the girl, Celindria called out, “Hope, I came to visit.”

“Mother!” With a toddler on her hip, Hope peered around the kitchen corner. “Did you come to see Raisin?” She gave her two-year-old grandchild an extra bounce to indicate her.

Hope wasn’t allowed outside. She was born with black hair, deep skin, and blue eyes—A perfect replica of Celindria. As Hope grew older, her skin had transitioned into Tritan blue, so she spent her life in hiding. Minus one irritating spurt of rebellion around 4000BCE. It was during this stunt which Celindria came out of seclusion to tame her daughter’s dangerous adventure for the safety of their line.

Remorse and Abresson wouldn’t have hesitated to snatch Hope and restrain her in stirrups like Silence.

Celindria let the shudder roll down her spine, but refused to give into it. It was only a concern in this one Probability. In all the others, Hope died a young mother. This was the only Probability in which Celindria met her daughter.

She brought herself back to the now, blinking at Raisin—Celindria’s fifteenth great granddaughter—toddling toward her.

We could bring our family to Father, and he would ensure their safety as he did with us.

No. Father wouldn’t let them cross the Probabilities. He wouldn’t understand our ability, and he’d insist on learning more. Experiments, tests—No. There isn’t time.

“How was the wedding?” Hope asked from the kitchen, where she pulled fresh bread from the clay oven.

Celindria lifted the toddler and kissed Raisin’s coiled black hair. Her skin was richly purple, like Celindria’s. Her genetics were strong.

What would Nox’s daughter look like—

We never speak of this.

“It was beautiful, as expected.” Celindria twirled Raisin around while the toddler squealed in delight. She said to Hope, “Any changes here?”

A utensil dropped in the kitchen, alarming Celindria. She turned the corner to find Hope’s back to her.

The Tritan/Progeny girl sounded distraught as she asked, “You didn’t talk to Grandfather, did you?”

Celindria sighed and set Raisin down, restraining from a power surge. She did not want this argument with her child. “Hope—”

“Mother! You promised you would at least discuss the options with him. You don’t know. He may not try to perform tests on us. He might say, ‘Yes.’ Isn’t it worth trying? One way or the other Remorse will find us here—”

“No.”

In this Probability, Razor and Remorse both survived Rayne’s destruction of Enki, as planned, and amassed their army of Rayne lookalike weapons to establish their empire. One of vice and breeding control.

Celindria held up her hand to stave any further arguments. She said, “Remorse won’t find you as long as you stay within the conglomeration. I’ve already devised a transfer of leadership to me within the Shadow’s Iona Pax. I won’t leave you drifting in this half-life forever.”

Hope’s position was reasonable. “You’ve been saying that for eight thousand years.”

“It’s never been closer to the truth.” Celindria gestured at herself. “Only I can shadow walk across the Probability Matrix, but I have soldiers who will meet the source on Thailea as I did. Then I’ll fulfill my promise.”

Hope chafed her arm, looking uncertain. Her voice was thin as she asked, “Will you need to hurt anyone? I’ve grown fond of the people you describe in the Shadow. Especially Korac. He sounds worth meeting.”

Kill her.

Celindria contained herself. For only a fraction of a second did her eyes threaten to transition into Atramentous. No one who witnessed it could live. Celindria would endeavor to not kill her child over one innocent remark.

To the mundane and simple-minded, the Shadow’s wholesome family aura emanated belonging and love.

To Celindria, the Shadow represented a fundamental imbalance in sense and logical decision-making. They drew too much from their emotions and put themselves in the position of relying on each other—

Vulnerability was lethal.

What about us? We want love.

We’ve only felt it from two people, and we ruined them both.

For power.

For Imminence.

“No, dear Hope. No one will feel a thing.”