{100CE}
All we do is work.
Paradise requires work and dedication.
We don’t exist as other people do.
Other people are weak. We wish to be stronger.
Not all of us.
Celindria administered the treatment to another Caprent. Sat on the rocky plateau overlooking the entrance to their city, Lacceirus Capra was beautiful in its degradation, and the people were so generous despite their burdens.
While Celindria prepped a syringe for the next patient, she recalled Remorse approaching her for this menial task. He’d barged into her lab, ordering, “The Caprents are suffering from the ailment already. This is sooner than the other Probabilities.”
Without looking up from her volition research and acknowledging his presence with her gaze, Celindria said, “Perhaps it has something to do with you forcing them to mine at greater depths with such weak upgrades to their nacres. I am shocked they have yet to suffer from caisson sickness at this rate.”
Hands with long fingers slid onto Celindria’s shoulders and squeezed as Remorse spoke against her hair. “My dear, may I remind you to whom I assigned administering upgrades?”
If Celindria’s skin could slide off and crawl away, it would. Several millennia ago, they’d exchanged bodily fluids in a business transaction, and yet Remorse felt the need to remind her of those encounters with every glance, touch, and word.
In every Probability, he does this. He wants us.
We hate him.
We hate everyone.
“Remorse?” Celindria let a huskiness into her voice and an extra innocent lilt to the question. She even turned and faced him with widened, demure eyes.
The Tritan, whose age exceeded galactic years, practically panted and drooled in her lap as he pressed his imagined advantage. “Yes, lover?”
Celindria leaned closer to him, a breath from kissing Remorse, saying in a voice of poisoned virtue, “You only touch me this way until I marry with the Source, and I know you fear it. So why not ingratiate yourself to me rather than repulse me before I extend beyond your limited expectations of femininity?” On the last, she licked his lip-less mouth, agape with his indignation.
Remorse tripped over himself when he startled back, as if Celindria had slapped him.
To hide the laughter in her eyes, because she was still very much vulnerable before the Source, Celindria turned and went back to her task. “I will administer the treatment to our capable miners in one hour. Good day, Primary Rem.”
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Like a petulant child, Remorse stormed out of Celindria’s lab without a word.
He was right about the mines: Caprent kind was the perfect labor force. So gullible. Likes liked likes. While she treated them of the disease they had acquired by mining the dangerous mineral, Celindria supplemented nanites from her labs into the injections.
This was how a goddess built her empire. Her Paradise.
Father will come soon. He always does.
This is before, right before we break his heart into tiny shards, sharp enough to cut.
Only after, we don’t feel anymore. Not like before. Almost not at all.
Celindria wanted to feel like before in Nox’s arms. His loving and heated gaze as he surged inside her. So naked. Almost grateful. And with the life he’d lived, Nox would feel grateful for Celindria’s tender ministrations.
Instead, she would soon experience the Source, leap into it while staring into father’s disappointed eyes.
Celindria knew for certain this would pay off—
Not entirely.
We still don’t feel.
—And it would all be worth it once she shuttered away the other realities.
First, plant the seeds which Celindria would sow into an empire. Into Paradise.
{Now}
Cinder welcomed Celindria in the same shadowy tower of Umbra’s Spire. She went to the window and took in the unexpected view. Li was receding.
“Tameka.”
Now there was a splinter in Celindria’s eye. The Powerhouse female had proven more than a match for Celindria’s calculations, and the miscreant bitch had stolen Pax from Celindria’s home. In all the Probabilities until this dominant one, Pax always chose Celindria. Even now, he was the only person in Paradise not under her volition control. She loved her little half-brother.
Well.
As much as Celindria could love.
Below them, this version of Cinder was renewed, revived by the modern colonies of Icari, humans, Lamias—Anyone and everyone invested in the Shadow’s legacy. Elden’s mission.
The fucking Icarean Prerogative.
Celindria’s Cinder had burned once she’d removed the Coalition nacres from the chamber. What a spectacular sight it was…
We saw it alone.
Because no one else wanted to see it.
Because we have no one.
Solitude, brief and fleeting, struck Celindria. The first emotion she’d experienced in weeks, and it was her most frequent emotion. Perhaps it was telling, hence, why she worked day and night to resurrect her lover.
Space-scrapers.
On Cinder.
The glossy black tower suited the ashen matte landscape. For once, Celindria considered the destruction of Cinder perhaps a bit rash on her part. Alas, she wasn’t here to admire the budding civilization.
Once, not long ago, Celindria had established a healthy continent of Icari. She had upgraded to embrace their higher intellect and bred them to spread from Cinder.
Father would’ve been proud.
We conquered the Vittle crop with him in mind.
Even though we like to pretend it wasn’t so.
Celindria had borrowed technology from Korac’s old friend, Ementa, to keep the continent secret. So Nox and Korac never knew, and it was only discovered when Celindria brought Tameka to it before everything went wrong in the dominant reality.
Seeds sown. It was time to harvest.
While many likely received the volition vaccines, Celindria could always count on the free will of the headstrong and bad, bad decisions.
There.
Fewer Icari than the humans responded to her command at only two million, but even half a million Icari with wings were worth a hundred million humans. More humans and Icari would wait on Ishkur, but it was safer to activate the outer planets first. They would make for a fine addition to Celindria’s forces.
We need more.
The Shadow are many.
We are infinite.
But infinity will soon end.
Celindria would disseminate her troops throughout the galaxy and investigate any sightings of this potential Rayne. While Celindria’s spies partied in vice dens, she may as well test the Divine Booth ports. Razor never thought to remove Celindria’s modifications before, but there was no underestimating this Probability—vaccines, included.
We’ll have Korac and his blood soon to resurrect our Nox.
Yes. We will.