{6,000BCE}
“Congratulations on another successful Vacating, Celindria.”
Razor always sounded so sincere, but she could hear the venom in the begrudging congratulations. There was an unspoken competition between them, where the Pain Curator took some personal slight any time Remorse announced one of her achievements. Almost as if Razor didn’t appreciate losing his surrogate father’s attention for even five seconds on a phone call.
Celindria enjoyed needling him. It eased the agony and guilt which always lingered after condemning the love of her life and his people to another eight thousand years under Li’s punishing glare. Truly, she only felt it occasionally, but even at fifty percent capacity, it still rendered her paralyzed with grief.
Until Celindria would enter the source.
“The mother would find your execution remarkable. Although regrettably, I must remind you, she would not delight in your target.”
Lucas.
The closest soldier to the originator.
He’s right.
But Paradise must always come this way.
Celindria assured, “She would understand it’s the only way to Ishkur. Did she say when she would wake, Remorse?” She’d asked this question often, and she always noticed the tick in the Primary’s right void.
There it was.
With a stiffened neck and his lipless mouth in a disapproving slant, Remorse assured, “Silence said the device would wake her when it was time, and I have faith it will. Until then, Celindria, continue with the Progeny weapons research, and Razor?”
“Yes, Primary?” There was a discernible perk in Razor’s demeanor.
Celindria almost rolled her eyes at how much the Pain Curator vied for paternal affection.
“Nox and Korac are your responsibility from hereon. Guarantee they pursue the second invasion. I know you will not fail me, Three Two Four.”
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The blatant manipulation was disgusting, and Celindria resented how easily the most manipulative person she knew fell for it.
Razor smiled, probably receiving sexual gratification from Triss under the table as they spoke, and said, “Your confidence is never misplaced, Remorse. Until the next report, good night.”
The call ended, leaving Celindria in a caravan traveling north on Earth. These were always her longest days: the journey back to Enki. All the way to Siberia the hard way. Andrius and Devis were already waiting back at her lab in civilization where Celindria could return to her research and await T.a.o.’s capture. Losing Merit never stopped stinging.
Another sacrifice to the one true Probability, but Celindria knew the carefree woman would understand.
Or so we like to tell ourselves.
{Now}
Earth in the dominant Probability was so impatient and susceptible to even the most ignorant fabrications. The empire had discovered Celindria’s pre-implemented volition code in the free nacres provided by Enki and distributed by The Brethren.
Thank you, Lynn Renee.
Yet, even as the empire mandated vaccinations to prevent exploitation of said code, thirty-three percent of the human population refused to vaccinate. One tiny whisper from an Imminent initiate was all it took. Protests, riots, and the most egregious and false rhetoric to support their ‘freedom.’
Celindria stood atop her purchase on the Earth’s tallest tower and smiled down at her new subjects.
All nine hundred and sixty million of them.
They cry and they beg.
Good.
More were needed.
Celindria wasn’t inhabiting the drone last night at W³, but his memory bank delivered disconcerting uploads of a pale-skinned brunette with bright blue eyes. Not an uncommon sight in the era of Rayne Tributes, but this one bore the Icarean script of Elden’s Verse on her back. Combine that with the attack on the pathetic excuse for a vice auction, and the evidence pointed to more than a coincidence.
Rayne’s unprecedented resurrection might explain the shrinking Probability Matrix. Another eight million Probabilities had vanished over the last twenty-four hours.
She’s our only true enemy. Did we see the way Nox had looked at her when he—
We couldn’t love him like she could. They were better suited for each other than us—
Eliminate her!
We need more troops than Earth and Monarch 3.
Each of Celindria’s new subjects would go about work, school, and religious rituals without alarming their communities until she awakened the other armies. The Shadow must know of her by now—Father would never keep this secret forever.
What about his Verse? He loves us.
He can’t be trusted. He always sides with the Shadow.
Because they’re right.
What about us?
We can only be happy in Paradise.
We occupy trillions of minds in Paradise and still, we never find happiness.
Celindria looked at her hands and recalled every knife they’d held, every gun, and every hand. Every face.
All of the blood on them.
Aloud, Celindria said into the night wind, “Father can’t save me now.”
Tomorrow, Cinder.