{2004CE}

“Nox and Korac have entered Earth, bound for the Cult of Night compound in Little Rock, Arkansas of the United States,” Remorse said all this as he entered Celindria’s lab without permission.

Without looking up from her work, she said, “Yes. As always.”

“Ah.” Remorse held up a long finger to make a point. “But this time, unlike all the others, Nox made a wager with Korac.”

At the hint of curiosity in Celindria’s raised brow, he continued, “Nox believes he can bed Rayne once she turns of age before Korac could bed Sagan. The throne of Earth is on the line. Isn’t that just amusing?”

Celindria frowned.

Why would Nox be interested in her?

He loves us. We are destined to reunite.

Does Remorse know how we feel? Is this a barb to hurt us for denying him?

“I’m sure this immature male behavior will rectify itself once they face the Progeny women and discern the likelihood of either winning is absurd.” Celindria waved to dismiss Remorse.

But the Tritan ignored the dismissal and slithered closer to Celindria to hiss nastiness in her ears. “Rayne is the most beautiful woman in the galaxy, proven by her biorhythms. She will rival you and all others this time around. Mark my words.”

He’s lying.

Kill him. Please, just this once.

Nox would never choose another. We are Eternal.

Celindria put down her instrument and turned to face the Tritan, a breath away. “Remorse, your abysmal history with women doesn’t lend any confidence in how knowledgeable you are in discussing relationships.”

The Primary’s hateful grin repulsed Celindria. “I placed one billion credits on Nox.”

Nox would never, ever find his way to Rayne.

Never.

{Now}

During a brief window of emotion, Celindria had stood in Paradise and brought all the bodies of her Probability together in one moment of shared ecstasy.

One Celindria found she couldn’t feel.

All those peaks…

Wasted on her.

Several hours later, Celindria’s actual body stood in Hope’s kitchen. She leaned on the counter and stared at the draining sink.

“Mother, he doesn’t deserve you.”

Kill her!

How could she say that about Nox?!

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No, we love Hope! She represents the best of us in the worlds.

With her eyes locked on the swirling dishwater, Celindria said, “I believe Nox is cunning, and he’s using Rayne to claim Xelan’s throne.”

Hope sighed and shifted her weight to jut out her other hip. With her arms folded, she looked fiercely aversive to relationship dramatics. Her intolerance was in her voice. “Then go to him and join forces. If your aims are really the same, then he’ll listen, right?” She didn’t sound very convinced.

This life here was small. Hope aspired for nothing more than a happy family, like so many. It was so unlike Celindria, who aspired for a love which could throttle the multi-verse into submission. So how could she hope to explain this to her daughter—To make her understand.

“I will when it’s time. If my theory is correct, our objectives well merge soon. That time will make the optimal opportunity to present the state of things so he’ll best understand.”

There was more pity in Hope’s voice now. “You truly love him, don’t you?”

The look Nox had given Rayne flashed in Celindria’s mind. The vision of Nox succumbing to his climax inside Celindria played over it—His expression was the same.

Celindria faced her daughter, her only real confidant, and confessed, “I do.”

Hope crossed the kitchen and kissed Celindria’s temple, pulling her mother in for a hug. Against Celindria’s shoulder, Hope said, “Then I hope for your sake your theory is correct. Until then, mother, I am here if you need me.”

This should feel warm and good. It should feel maternal and kind.

All Celindria felt was the loneliness yet again, and she mourned the loss of this moment.

Cinderken was a lanky Icarus, all height and no muscle. His long fingers were laced together like ties through a corset, slender and tight. Like all those who worshiped Razor, the Lord of Odds had dressed in a fancy suit, but this one wasn’t tailored. The length of his slacks and sleeves rode high on his ankles and wrists.

Inside Cinderken’s body, Celindria sat at a table in a cell bound in nacre glass and nacre repelling shields.

Waiting.

The only thing to amuse Celindria was the bright blue ribbon on the table, tattered and dirty.

We will make Nox strangle Rayne with it.

Cram it down the bitch’s throat and choke her on it.

Set it on fire and burn Rayne’s corpse with it.

“What’s the significance of it?”

Celindria looked up with Cinderken’s pale brown eyes to find a familiar face standing outside the shield.

Chris looked handsome in his regulation carbon fiber tactical gear. His dark eyes complimented his brown skin, and Celindria felt a stirring for owning his bones again.

In Cinderken’s voice, which she controlled as not to give herself away, she said, “Monetary value and little else.”

Keep the answers short.

Don’t let him recognize us.

He smells like incense.

Will Nox be jealous?

Perhaps Nox could join us?

Chris shook his head, incredulous, before leaning against the far wall. He folded his arms and his ankles, the guard on duty. Casually, he asked, “Are you sure you don’t know anything about Celindria?”

Do. Not. Laugh.

She said, “I know nothing of her.”

Inside Cinderken’s mind, the Icarus raised his heavy head and moaned, begging for help.

Chris nodded as if he’d expected this answer. In a congenial tone, he said, “You know, the Shadow are amazing people. They can help you figure things out so you can run your business legitimately. Vice doesn’t need to be illegal for people to enjoy it.”

Celindria liked this angle, smart and honest. Within the mindscape, she said to Cinderken, “You could’ve done with this advice a week ago, yes?”

The pitiful Icarus groaned and dropped his head.

Keeping things simple, Celindria answered Chris, “I would like to save my remarks for your leadership. Thanks.”

The little shrug Chris gave said, ‘Fair,’ without a word. “They’ll be in tomorrow. Let me know if you want anything to eat or some Vittle supplements. Or to talk. Good night.”

Celindria nearly let a noise fall from Cinderken’s mouth, appreciating the view of Chris walking away in those tactical pants.

Surely Nox could share.

Surely.

Celindria left Hope’s home about an hour ago and stood in the heart of the dominant reality’s Ishkur. It was a commons in the Palatial Grounds with a fountain which sprayed twenty stories in the air. A rainbow cycle of all the waters from the planets within Iona Pax.

The perfect place to activate Divine Booth control.

All those souls with all those ports.

They’ll be ours.

Nacres left open to us.

Even with the volition vaccines, the program Celindria had installed into Razor’s Divine Booths would bypass filters into direct nacre control. The people who’d paid billions a night to experience Rayne’s pain—to experience Nox taking her for all the Vast Collective to see—now belonged to Celindria.

Pil was next.