Thanks to his imperial pain in the ass, Kyle was working late instead of enjoying the company of the galaxy’s hottest G.I.L.F. Silence promised to get started without him after her stressful morning of mitigating Lucas’ clandestine nature and Andrew’s trust issues. On this one and only occasion, Kyle was inclined to follow Xelan’s instincts.

This was Aegis.

So, here Kyle stood, alongside Ross, reconstructing the fragmented memories which Bethany had consumed from Razor. Somewhere in this mess was a complete insight into the Pain Curator’s life, including Aegis lore. Without ol’ Cap’n Wingmaster saying it, Kyle knew the clinically hyper-focused Co-Emperor was considering resurrecting some Frankenstein phoenix from these ashes. But that was yet another of Xelan’s instincts Kyle would not follow.

Razor had scarred enough people, including Bethany and Ross. The man had put his hands on Kyle’s sisters…

It was unforgivable, and Kyle would obliterate these fragments before he’d let Xelan recreate the least deserving person in the galaxy. The only person less deserving of resurrection than Razor was Nox, and fortunately, Rayne had disintegrated his ass.

Good riddance—

“You’ve got the look on your face, bro.” Ross was a gentle breeze, casting doubt and sadness aside. She could kick ass as sure as the next Shadow, thanks to Kyle, but her default was kindness and generosity. It was in her voice as she asked, “Do you want to talk about anything?”

They stood in a black memory scape illuminated at the floors and ceilings with white light. Like chalk on a fresh blackboard, Razor’s memories were scribbled on the walls and back-lit. Ross and Kyle stood inside the space wearing black suits under white labcoats. Each held a clipboard—

This was not their construct.

Whatever was left of Razor had put Ross in a pencil skirt with glasses and her wavy hair in a tidy bun.

The Pain Curator was not worth resurrecting.

Although… Kyle might keep the suit and surprise Silence later.

Later.

After flipping his curly mop from his face, Kyle grumbled, “I’m in a shit mood. Sorry.”

Maybe subconsciously embracing the framework, Ross hugged her clipboard to her chest, saying, “You could talk to one of the psychologists. I’ve heard the Reipon ones are especially good, but I like the Caprent Kombuchi recommended. Tia makes me workout while we talk, and it’s relaxing.”

Two of Kyle’s least favorite things: exercise and talking about himself. He wiped his hand down his increasingly sourpuss face and kissed Ross’ forehead. “Thanks. I’ll check into one.” On a cold day in hell. “Until then, let’s try to work through this monster’s head. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

Ross smiled, dressed in Razor’s ideal get up for her, and nodded. “I’m sure we’ll find what Xelan’s looking for, and maybe…” Her voice trailed off, and her smile wilted.

“What?” Kyle hated seeing her like this.

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

The middle child swallowed before saying, “Jack worries about me dwelling on it, but I’m hoping to find the key to opening Bethany up. Maybe once we learn about her interactions with Razor, we could find the exact thing which… I mean, whatever it was that…” Broke her. “We could find it and bring her back.”

The baby wasn’t coming back, and maybe that’s what bothered Kyle about Ross. He’d given up, and she was still trying. Guilt and failure plagued him, and Ross’ constant optimism—never giving up—was only putting off the inevitable breakdown she’d suffer once she realized Bethany’s untamed disposition was permanent. Then Kyle would have to pick up another broken sister out of Razor’s shadow.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Ross’ smile returned in full force, and she clutched the clipboard at the ready. “Let’s do this.” His sister headed down the south aisle, scanning the text written on musical staff with renewed determination.

Jack was right to worry.

“Ugh.” Left alone in the central hub, Kyle shoved both hands in his hair and squeezed the unruly tangles. He let the frustration out with a sigh as he begrudgingly admitted—never aloud—that Jack Callahan was good for Ross.

There.

He thought it.

Now Kyle desperately needed a shower to get the icky off of him. He looked down at the clipboard hugged in his arm with blank musical staffs lining down the page. He held up the pen to eye level, inspecting it. Of course, it was a fancy pearl fountain pen.

Kyle muttered, “Razor, you were one particular asshole.”

Ready to toss the handful of shit aside, Kyle froze and stared down at the page. On the first line of empty sheet music was fancy script in purple ink—the same color as Sagan’s eyes.

Takes one to know one.

No.

Nope.

Kyle wouldn’t tell anyone about this. He growled, “Don’t harass Ross in here, or I’ll never tell Xelan. You get me?”

She is Shadow. She is safe.

What a fucked up Ouija board, but it gave Kyle an idea. He said, “Razor, show me the memories pertaining to the Probability Matrix and the Eternal Bind—Anything useful involving Celindria, as well, and I’ll tell Xelan you’re here.”

I doubt your sincerity.

Quick on his feet, Kyle said, “Sagan would want you to help.”

A quiet ensued and stretched on until he was sure Razor had bailed—

Ten memories north and three aisles over. Keep the clipboard. You’ll need it.

Kyle ran in the direction Razor directed, not at all worried the Pain Curator was lying. For one, this was a memory scape and Kyle was a memory expert, so no worries there. Secondly this was busy work, so it was worth the risk Razor was telling the truth to finish this task faster. But Ross…

About to round the last aisle, Kyle stopped to say, “Don’t show my sister what she wants to see. I don’t want her to see the abuse you put Bethany through. Do you think Sagan would want you to do something so indecent as to expose one sister to the torture of the other?”

What do you take me for?

Kyle bit his lip to keep from answering the question and turned down aisle three. The longer he looked at the foreign text on the music staffs against the black background, the more they shaped and molded into black and white playbacks of Razor’s memories.

Bingo.

“Whoa…”

The Exalted had spawned a lot of sons, and, with the white features, they all sorta blended together. They were on Ishkur’s bridge, observing the Probability Matrix. This was from the vantage point of the farthest gangplank, where they’d left Razor out of the way.

Zero came on deck and called, “One.”

The crowd parted to reveal the Aegis at the Matrix’s forefront and to reveal the image they’d been observing: Rayne. This Aegis went to his father, who pulled One aside, nearer to Razor. They whispered amongst themselves, but Kyle made out, “Fracture in the multi-verse,” and, “What are your plans to correct it?”

One turned and looked at Rayne. She was his answer. Something to do with her.

Intrigued and a little concerned, Zero asked, “How far must we go?”

One said, “To the beginning. And not we. I will go. Alone.”

With entirely too much authority, the Exalted decreed, “Go. I trust your discretion. Should you fail, try again until you come home to us. Do you understand?”

One nodded and left the bridge with a sad glance at Razor.

Staring at One’s back, Zero said to himself, “My son, fate is safer in your hands than in mine.”

Kyle zoned back from the memory and blinked a few times. What could this mean? And why did everything come back to Rayne?

“Razor, what can you give me?” There was a slight hint of desperation in Kyle’s voice.

The text which appeared on the clipboard did not help.

One is still missing.