Two Durations had passed since Violet’s identity had been revealed to the world — two Durations where Remus and five other squadrons had fought tooth and nail to survive.

And they were all out of food.

“Are you sure?” He asked Veida urgently, opening the top of a crate. His blood ran cold at the sight of its empty contents.

“That’s all that survived the crash.” Veida said sadly. “We’re fortunate we had that much.”

Each platform had been prepared with cargo full of emergency rations. Some had been destroyed in the fight with Belindo, and the following crisis. The majority had been lucky to survive. Nevertheless, with well over a hundred hungry mouths to feed, it hadn’t lasted.

“All of it? Really gone?” Remus repeated more times than a deranged parrot. For all their history, Remus had to admit, Veida was being very patient with him.

“Yes Remus. All of it.”

“Do the others know?” He asked in hushed tones.

“I haven’t gotten around to it. I was hoping you would be better at breaking the news.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” She prodded him with a finger. “You. You’re respected around here. Ever since you leaped into Belindo’s mouth, it’s like you're the best thing since sliced bread.”

“I don’t know how well they’ll think of me after this . . .”

“If you really don’t want to then, I can-”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Veida looked over to where a crowd was already amassing. “Then you better do it quickly. Something tells me leaving them hanging won’t do anything to calm their tempers.”

Remus had at least five other follow-up questions, but the woman was right. He got up to the top of the crates, feeling how hollow they felt under his feet. Nothing inside. His heart began to pound at the thought of them all dying from starvation. Dropping off one by one.

Another group of people all relying on him. How Remus got himself into all of these leadership roles, he’d never know.

He harrumphed into a fist. How to address them? Ladies and gentlemen was too formal. Guys? No, that was even worse, but for the opposing reason: too casual.

No introductions then.

“What I stand on now has been our lifeline for all of two terrible Durations. I know how hard you all worked to retrieve these from the heart of the battlefield. I salute you for it. You’re the reason we’ve survived to this point.”

All those faces. Looking at him. Remus recognised Tanguy and Aziel among them, near the back. The worry lines of their lips blended in with the crowd, like they were as easy to overlook as pieces of the ground nearby. Maybe if they hadn’t fit the quota for a disagreeable crowd so well, Remus would have recognised them earlier. But as it stood, Remus felt his throat constricting at the sight of so many awaiting clansmen.

“But any lifeline becomes a liability when relied upon for too long-”

“Where’s our morning meal?” One voice rose. Remus' eyes flew through the crowd, but he couldn’t identify the source.

“We’re very low on supplies. We need to find a new food source, and quickly. If anyone here is gifted with any Mark that may help in that regard, please speak up now.”

There was an abundance of murmuring, but no-one stood forth.

If only we had someone from the Feast Clan. Remus lamented, trying not to let the emotions show on his face. Then we wouldn’t have this problem.

On large scale operations, at least one Feast clansman was brought along. One alone could produce enough food to fuel a small village within a day. A particularly strenuous day, but a day nevertheless.

Alas, this wasn’t meant to be a long operation. Simply a few squadrons sent to delay the Unbounded further up the front lines, before reinforcements dealt the real damage. As a result, not a soul had thought to hire a cook. The clan was expensive to hire out, after all. They were small, which made their rise to power so impressive. But now more than ever, a resource like that could have made a real difference.

“When are our God-Graced getting here?”

That caught Remus off-guard, like a blow to the chin. Reinforcements. They should have arrived here days, if not entire Durations ago.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. They promised.”

Every few days, a God-Graced would arrive through some usage of Perpetual Sight, bringing with them reassurances that help would arrive any day now. Very soon in fact.

But they never did. Soon was too vague a metric to ever put faith in, especially when spoken from the lips of a God-Graced. Remus knew stones he would entrust more belief into, before going anywhere near the power titans of this world.

More disgruntled utterings. The people here were too polite to flat-out scream in his face, though Remus could still read the room with perfect clarity. And every single person here, save for perhaps his close friends, hated his guts.

“I’ll ask again. Does anyone have any abilities that could help us? Perhaps a few of you could even combine abilities to do so. Through, if at all possible, increasing rain, fertilising the soil, or manipulating the flora directly. ”

It was a long-shot. After a minute or so, Remus could finally breathe a little easier when several sceptical people raised their hands to volunteer.

Veida tapped him on the shoulder, who Remus hadn’t even noticed coming over. “Leave this bit to me.” She whispered. “I’ll see what we can salvage.”

Remus nodded. He flew off the stand, taking the deepest sigh of his life the second he was out of range. Nothing could be harder than dealing with so many people — but there was one person he didn’t mind seeing.

He landed not far from the rest of the assembly, where a green tent was erected. He walked loudly for the final few steps, to give her a little forewarning, before calling out through the flap. “Violet?”

Her head turned to face Remus. He felt his stomach warm as she flashed him a wicked smile. The feeling confused him, so Remus promptly took a seat and got down to business.

“Everything going as planned?”

“Yeah.” Violet nodded. “How did the others take the news?”

Remus was a little startled that she already knew of the food shortage, but supposed Veida must have told her. “Not great. But not awful, I guess.”

He wasn’t tapped into his internal senses completely, but Remus could still feel the abundance of Infinity sifting through the room. Since returning from battle, Violet had hardly done anything other than work on her infinity manipulation. Pieces of armour rested on her body as they spoke, the plain uncoloured material unreal; a metal not of this world.

Since the beginning, he’d known of Violet’s new scheme against Nova. The first night back had been so heated, Remus could have cut the tension with a knife. Violet’s Unbounded side being exposed by Nova had obviously inspired fear in many of the clansmen. To their uninformed view, the idea of having to live and sleep in the same proximity as an Unbounded wasn’t a pleasant one. Like having to stomach a monster residing under your bed.

Only having saved as many of them from the jaws of death as she had placated the group. But not completely. Violet was allowed to live among them, but even that had taken hours of heated negotiations. Ultimately, the decision was stripped away from Hadrian by the other squad leaders, but they agreed to let her stay. At a distance. As much as the ravine would allow.

Violet didn’t seem fazed, at least externally. Instead, she had told Remus, Hadrian, and a few very select people her new plan. To expose Nova to the world like he had her. That sounded all well and good to Remus, before he had been fully equipped with the details of what she yearned to do.

“Look.” Remus sighed. “I’m not one to doubt you, but is there enough time?”

“I might not achieve it fully, but even a partial activation could be enough.”

Remus relaxed a little. “I couldn’t bear not being able to use my Mark for so long. But to think you could stand toe-to-toe with Nova — just how powerful are you? No-way you’re still capped at Foot-Soldier equivalent.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

That brightened her face. “I honestly don’t know. I asked Veida how strong she thinks I am, but even she was at a loss. Whatever the case, all I need to do is rival the Pet-Keeper in one instance. Less than a second will be enough. One second and he’s mine.”

“Scary.” Remus shivered. “Just when I think I’m on the verge of getting stronger than you.”

Violet laughed. Remus liked it when she did that. “It took my entire life to get to this point, and you’ve done so much in what, a Rebirth?”

Remus laughed too, washing aside the praise. “I guess so.”

They were both silent for a second. Remus stared into Violet’s soft features, for a small eternity. What did he say? Everything was complicated enough as it was, and now Remus had to deal with this weird feeling that made his chest tight and stomach hurt.

“Is everything okay?” He wasn’t sure why he said that, but it seemed right.

“Yeah.” She replied, so dryly, it must have been automatic. “Thanks for asking.”

“No really. What Nova did is hard to throw under the rug. Surely you’re a little-”

“Sad? Embarrassed? Outraged?”

Remus blinked. “Well, yeah. You don’t have to be all stoic with me.”

“Well, I’m obviously annoyed. But — I don’t know — there’s no time for getting all depressed about it, is there?”

“What about when we get out of here?” Remus hoped his face didn’t betray how optimistic that question was. Survival was never a certainty. “When the rest of the world finds out, and we have to confront them?”

It felt horrible to bring Violet’s attention to these issues, and Remus only did so out of absolute necessity. There wasn’t a doubt in Remus’ mind: God-Graced would already be debating on how to handle Violet, now that Nova had outed her as a doppelganger. Which, whilst not completely wrong, was only one tenth of the colossal truth.

“I wonder what story Nova will go with.” Violet mused. “Will he say I was an imposter this entire time, or was killed off recently? Only for me to return as an Unbounded.”

“But would that even work?”

Normal doppelganger Unbounded were a lot different than the variety Violet was, and the rest of the infested Chaos Clan. For starters, they couldn’t just copy anyone they saw. It wasn’t that doppelganger Unbounded were amazing at transforming — they just looked so uncannily like humans, that, with good enough linguistic skills, they could blend in. But as an entirely new identity. Fabricating something so complicated was an arduous process, and making it believable was arguably the hardest part.

Unbounded appearance was a spectrum. The more powerful you got, the more you regressed into one of two categories: embracing the pure raw power of a beastly form, or the functionality of a more humanoid body.

If Belindo was on the far right, leaning heavily towards the beastly side of things, doppelgangers were the extreme opposite. Abandoning all Unbounded sensibilities to become one-to-one mortals.

The Pet-Keeper, for example, could have very easily pulled off a doppelganger stunt. He may have previously, now that Remus thought on it, explaining why for a long stretch of time, hardly a peep had been heard out of him. Back then, however, this current Right-bearer generation hadn’t been nearly as prominent. The prospect of the Pet-Keeper attempting the same thing today was laughable.

All this considered, how Nova was going to write-off everything Violet had ever done as a simple doppelganger, was a tricky matter indeed. It was the tip of the iceberg, threatening to expose the rest of the icy lie, when put under the slightest strain.

“The last thing Nova wants is for the world to know about what he’s done to the Chaos Clan. My own intention to expose exactly that aside, he’ll have to manoeuvre around this carefully.”

“He must know you’ve told a few God-Graced about the truth, or at least considered the possibility.” Remus frowned. “How’s he going to get around that one?”

“Maybe he hasn’t. Maybe that prospect doesn’t worry him at all.”

“I doubt it. Would be a real flaw in this scheme of his.”

One serious expression from Violet, and Remus had to reevaluate that.

“Trust me on this. I know my father better than anyone. Nova’s the kind of man who is so confident, as to be hubristic. He probably thinks the truth is just too unpleasant, or bizarre, for any self-respecting God-Graced to believe.”

Remus leaned back across a comfortable stretch of tent, exhaling. “Out of all the things we could have gotten involved in, it’s politics and political manoeuvring.”

Violet leaned back with him, so that they were face-to-face. “Hey, it could be worse.”

“Could it really?”

Violet was silent. After a moment, a rapid burst of laughter practically erupted out of the pair of them. It went on a little too long, to the point where Remus felt weak.

“I don’t know where I’d be without you.” He admitted, locking eyes with her.

She paused, perhaps to consider what way he meant that, before nodding. “Me neither.”

Not another word was spoken, not another syllable escaped his lips. Remus didn’t understand his own intentions, but the moment felt too fragile. Too fragile to risk another muttered sound.

What he would give to be here forever. For this second to stretch out, and make the entire Celestial War seem like one grain in a very large hourglass. Insignificant and inconsequential.

No more battles, or needless bloodshed, or damnable gods and Unbounded. Just uninterrupted tranquillity. Escape from everything apart from what really mattered.

He didn’t know what was going through Violet’s head as they stared at one another. Whatever the case, Remus’ own mind was dragging him into a swell of places he wasn’t familiar with. Depths of the soul he wasn’t quite sure he wanted exploring. Or even had the time to.

“Juniper and Maris.” He fractured the moment like a pane of glass. It felt akin to a jewel breaking. “Do you think they’ll reveal the truth?”

“I have a feeling they won’t unless absolutely necessary. It's all on my shoulders now, and I plan on taking action.”

“I know.” Remus held his lips. What she was planning to attempt was so dangerous, it was beyond reason. There was a very good chance it wouldn’t work out as planned.

But if it did. It could be the crucial blow necessary to take Nova down. And there was no greater time to pull it off than now, when the entire world was out for the Right-bearers’ blood. The mere fact they were still alive, that they had come this far without God-Graced or Unbounded alike killing the pair of them, told Remus they had a fighting chance.

None of them delved into that unspoken topic. The fact that Nova and Belindo could return at any second.

A few of the Sight, Trickery, and other related clansmen had all teamed up together. Visual deceptions were hiding the ravine well enough for at least the hordes of weak Unbounded not to pester them. Stronger beings could easily see through the veil, but for now, they had some stalling time.

Remus just hoped it would be enough.

----------------------------------------

Damosh looked upon his right-hand man with a forced smile. Edmar was kneeling before him, answering his King’s call to enter the chamber. Here was the peak of the tower, the throne room Damosh saw more of these days than the sun itself. It was as ornate as ever, and through multicoloured panes of glass, forged with some decorative mosaics of his predecessors, Damosh looked lazily down on the denizens of First Rite.

Finally, his eyes returned to the kneeling subject. “Congratulations.”

Edmar blinked. “Might I ask what for, my liege?”

Damosh cocked an eyebrow. “Why, your recent advancement to Mercenary. Faster than I could have expected, of course. What, did you think I paid so little attention as to not notice?”

Based on the look on Edmar’s face, yes. He had expected that. Or, if Damosh wasn’t reading into this too much, had been hoping for it. That begged one nagging question: why? It wasn’t like Edmar to keep things hidden. Or at least that was the reputation of the man Damosh had developed in his head. Had he been wrong?

He eyed his servant a little more closely.

“How perceptive you are, my King. Forgive me if it seemed like I was trying to be secretive — I simply thought it was nothing of concern.”

Hmm. Humility? Yes, Damosh settled on his answer, that explains it.

“Don’t be so modest, Edmar! Nothing pleases me more than knowing my sect is reaffirming its power. We’ll rule as kings forever.”

Something shifted on Edmar’s face, but it was too quick for Damosh to fully notice.

“Truth be told,” Damosh admitted, “that isn’t the only reason I’ve called you here. This battle has been raging for Durations now — what will the other God-Graced think if a literal king doesn't intervene?”

There were also the amassing, angry crowds in the Labour and Leisure Districts, furious at his lack of intervention. So far, Damosh hadn’t put a single Inkling towards assisting with the war effort. He had other personal matters to attend to. Though he supposed in this one instance, remaining silent on the topic wasn’t going to cut it.

“What we need is something big. Something spectacular to really boost my repu- public morale.” He corrected himself.

“What do you have in mind, sir?” Edmar asked. He was doing that silly little habit of his where he stared daggers into the carpet at his feet, but never raised his head to Damosh himself.

“I want to kill one of the Right-bearers.”

That made Edmar raise his head. Damosh didn’t hide his delight at the man’s absurd look.

After composing himself, the man managed words. “Should I prepare your leave for the battlefield sir?”

“Oh, heavens, not yet!” Damosh slapped both arms of his chair. “No, no. We have to wait for the perfect moment. Why bother with Passing-long campaigns when one moment of glory is enough?”

It was the perfect plan. Right when one of the Right-bearers was greatly wounded, all Damosh had to do was show up for one blazing second of victory.

Edmar clearly read his intentions. If he wanted to say something, he didn’t show it, jaw remaining firmly shut.

“Why indeed.” He eventually muttered, though there was no passion behind it. Not that it mattered — Damosh didn’t need passion. Passion was for the artists and strungout musicians. What Damosh needed was practicality.

“We need to keep a close eye on how the battle is progressing. When were the Right-bearers last seen?”

Edmar’s job title included being Damosh’s main informant. That meant most of the Mercenary’s time was spent networking with others, and generally keeping himself aware of things. It saved Damosh a lot of time, but at what cost?

“There was a large-scale attack on a number of squadrons, heading deeper into the enemy line. They were supposed to divert the Unbounded, relieving some pressure off the front. Then Belindo and the Fifth Right-bearer arrived. The God-Graced have been scrambling to recover, and not much has been heard of the Right-bearers since.”

“Nothing on the Supreme Fiend or the Pet-Keeper?”

“Not much. The former is still spreading his disease, traversing the warzones mindlessly. The Pet-Keeper remains as elusive as ever.”

Damosh leaned back on his throne, feeling quite satisfied with himself. “And so we wait.”

Edmar spoke darkly under his breath. “Yes. Yes we do.”