After completing my first act of treason behind my brother's back, I spent hours reflecting on my time with Celindria and studying her mannerisms. She was so eager to begin the next phase of the process, but I wanted to keep my promise to Colita and Lucas. So I rested, and we talked.

In my study, hands from all the Shadow waited for me to call on them. Their faces were open with curiosity in most and concern in others. For Celindria, I loathed to expose the secrets she trusts in me.

Curled on the couch, you state a simple fact. "It's for the Shadow's safety."

Not for them. At this moment, they believed Celindria was dead.

You shake your head and assure me, "You won't keep them in the dark for much longer. I know you. This is your big confession, and you'll finish it right. Until then, Celindria is the manifestation of their worst nightmares—Tell me, how did Chris look?"

Your direct blow made me wince.

Chris cuddled Para at Karter's feet. Both women placed a comforting hand on him, but he didn't feel it. I knew that look. He wasn't in the room anymore. I prayed to Elden he wasn't reliving his time in Celindria's captivity, but I know trauma victims are never so fortunate.

I could do this. I made Celindria, and I could answer for her sins. The first person I called on was the person I wanted to answer the least.

Korac asked, "How soon did she liaison with your biological sperm donor?"

That's what I'd expected him to ask. Clearing my throat, I thought of the best way to answer this. "Straight away. Her scent didn't change, but Celindria possessed massive control of her biological functions. I believe she was already pregnant with Remorse's child when we went to the vault."

Tumu said, "I can confirm Primary Rem was absent from his sanctum during this time, and as Korac noted in his Verse, there were sightings of a Primary in Nox's settlement."

Yito called from the back of the room with Matt, Lucy, Bethany, Puk, and crew. "The Primary was collecting entries into the breeding program. He returned from Earth with twenty-two women."

Lamassau shook his head. "The bastard. I doubt a single one of them consented."

The room went quiet, mourning the millions of anonymous victims to this senseless mess.

"Celindria wouldn't care if they'd consented," Chris muttered, without focusing on the room. He was seeing a horror I couldn't bear to imagine. "She wouldn't care about them at all."

Tameka said, "I want to ask next. How did you figure out she was... I don't even know the right word for what's wrong with her—"

"Cursed," Devis offered.

Andrius spared his brother a pitying look before saying, "Celindria considered it a gift. No sense of guilt to carry, nor the anchor of love to weigh her down. No weakness."

T.a.o. said, "Alone."

Andrew asked, "I'm sorry, but didn't she hurt you shortly after Xelan created you? Why do you three seem eager to defend her?"

The three First Wave Progeny exchanged a look before Devis shook his head with agony in his eyes. In Atramentous, it was hard to gauge T.a.o.'s feelings, but she also didn't volunteer an answer. Leaving Andrius to say, "Celindria spared us her fate."

I offered, "I believe the next entry will answer Tameka's and Andrew's questions. Andrius, would you care to read?" I spared him an encouraging smile while my insides roiled.

In answer, Andrius took the volume from Devis and continued reading.

This morning, I stared at every vial and microscope slide with Celindria's blood in it. One vial was red, three were blue, and the slide was yellow.

Canary yellow.

The same color which had drenched Nox when he returned from Thailea. I'd never forget how he tried to convince me he knew nothing of what had happened while covered in evidence of a massacre.

"That aged well," Korac mused in my study.

Andrius continued the story, unaware of the resentment in me.

"Celindria," I called to her.

She emerged from the bed I'd made for her. "Yes, father?"

I wet my lips, unsure how to approach this. I asked, "May I take another blood sample?"

"Of course. More tests?" Celindria stepped close to me and held out her arm. Her enthusiasm waned when she noticed the change in the samples. "Ahh. An anomaly."

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I nodded, relieved Celindria understood without me explaining. I said, "Yes. We should see if this is a recurring phenomenon or..." My voice trailed off as I inserted the catheter and... nothing happened. There was no blood. Trying not to alarm her, I asked calmly, "Celindria, are you feeling all right?"

"I feel nothing."

I frowned. It was such a strange way to answer my question. "Nothing wrong, you mean?"

When Celindria shook her head, that chill returned to my blood.

I removed the IV materials and gripped the lab table, staring at the samples. So close. I'd come so close to creating a fully formed person, but if Celindria could simply stop bleeding—

Something had gone wrong. Giving over to my work, I sat down and began analyzing my notes and her blood work, trying to come up with the cause for the anomaly.

Rudely, I'd forgotten Celindria's presence entirely, so when she spoke, it startled me. "I know what caused it."

I blinked up at her before finally inquiring, "Yes?" How could she know the flaw in her own making? But since she was so intelligent, what was the harm in experimenting?

Celindria pulled up a chair across from me and took my hands. Hers were ice cold, and her voice was remote as she said, "The shard of Elden's nacre was such an intuitive variable to contribute to the experiment. So potent—Of course, it would work. But a nacre as ancient as his was without upgrades for so long... and it was incomplete. I fear the flaws stole my chance of having a soul."

My eyebrows shot up, and I stammered as I asked, "A soul?"

Celindria's smile was without warmth or assurance. There was nothing in her eyes as she confessed, "I cannot feel as you do. Like the Icari describe in their Verses or you in your notes. Sometimes, like now, I feel nothing at all. Therefore, there is no blood. But yesterday, I felt something akin to gratitude and affection for you. The blood came easy then."

I leaned forward and clasped my hands together, considering this. What Celindria called a soul, I considered the mind's conscience and emotion. Without meeting Celindria's eyes, I said, "There is no empirical way to prove emotion, but we can try some qualitative tests. You can keep a journal, and I can interview your regularly—"

"There is no way to prove if I have a soul," Celindria translated. Then she commanded, "Look in my eyes, father."

For the love of Elden, I didn't want to. In Celindria's voice, I could hear the icy objectivity. The deep intelligence which surfaced in her gaze—So ancient and alone. But I did as she told me.

Celindria was without a soul.

"I have wronged you," I confessed. To create someone without the capacity for love, conscience, and heartache—What had I done? In my arrogance, I'd created an abomination.

In line with her sobering nature, Celindria said, "Yes, you have." Tears pricked my eyes, but she pressed on, "And I know how to prevent it from happening again. The others—I wish to progenerate them to prove to you that you can create Progeny, whole and complete. Not half-formed things like me."

My voice was thick with the overwhelming emotion as I asked, "How?"

Celindria showed me in my calculations where the experiment required a nacre—whole ones—to succeed. Icarean ones preferably. "My brothers and sister will have souls. They will be your Progeny."

I took her face in my hands and kissed her forehead. "No matter what happens, you are my Progeny."

Celindria felt it. I could see a hint of warmth thawing the ice in her eyes. It made me ask, "Is now a good time to draw blood," before I realized how insensitive it sounded. "Uhm... I mean..."

Without a word, Celindria held out her arm, which gave blood as expected. It was red again. She offered me a reassuring smile, and I was grateful she understood how impulsive the scientist in me could become.

Now, all the previous samples were yellow. I pointed to them and asked, "Do you know what causes this?"

Celindria shrugged and offered, "Perhaps the unusual composition of Elden's nacre?"

"Your hypothesis will have to do until we can apply more research. Until then, I need four nacres for the next experiments."

Her smile was so reassuring and kind... and sad...

"Leave it to me, father."

I would do anything to rectify Celindria. Somehow, I would give her a soul.

The next day, she returned with four nacres—I didn't bother to ask how she'd came by them because I trusted her—and we created the other four Progeny.

"So is this what Celindria meant when she said you wronged her?" Tameka asked, looking a little tired, but nonetheless supportive.

I swallowed before I could say, "Yes. And I did wrong her." I wanted to leave no room for discussion.

"Why, Superman?"

Because it's an irrefutable truth. In my vanity, I created a living being. One who couldn't love or hurt—Not the way we can.

You drop the pencil on your notebook and perch an elbow on the armrest, fist under your chin. All the while, you're gazing at me with so much... appreciation and kindness. It hurts. "Before you continue, I can already guess Tameka, Korac, and probably Tumu had something to say about you supposedly wronging Celindria."

Do you?

A pretty smile brightens the sympathy in your eyes. "Of course, but if I interrupted every time I thought you a better man than you give yourself credit for, then this Verse would take forever."

With that, I feel more confident in my ability to continue.

Tameka let me have it. "In no way are you responsible for Celindria's actions. I might agree with you that in making her there were some depressing flaws, but she still knew right from wrong. Korac, back me up."

Korac quirked a brow at her, but said, "Tameka's right. Celindria's miserable existence is more her doing than yours. Rather than spending all her energies and resources researching treatments or alternatives for her prognosis, she spent it designing an empire—"

"She does research it. Day and night."

They all turned and looked at Chris.

Stricken with the memory, his voice was heavy with nightmares as he continued, "She never stops. Every effort toward Imminent is an effort to feel." He swallowed as he met my eyes. "She will do anything to feel."

Tumu challenged, "But if feeling is a weakness in her eyes—"

"It doesn't stop her from wanting to experience it." Devis looked as far away as Chris.

Andrius said, "Celindria believes there's something in the connection between all the Progeny which might awaken a soul she believes to be sleeping, not gone. Not entirely."

Sagan asked, "What do you believe, Xelan?"

The focus returned to me, and I ran a hand down my face to physically erase my thoughts from being revealed. I wasn't aware Celindria was still trying to find her soul. So long ago, she destroyed any remnants of it.

I said, "We'll get there."