[Log 3.11.1]

[Pharus - 1]

Zephyro’s armor clinked as I strained to pull him up. There was the ghost of a smile on his lips as he dusted himself off.

“I will answer any of your questions,” he said, loosening his sword in his scabbard. “But if I might be so bold, Sultana, allow me to suggest we keep making for the palace while we talk.”

I smirked, nodded. “Deal.”

Then we got moving, deeper again into the maze of streets and away from the dying wails of the crowd. It seemed both a blessing and a curse for Zephyro, who still flinched every time a desperate plea carried on the wind. Should probably distract him.

“Tell me more about the Ferals. The two on the thoroughfare seemed larger and stronger than the rats and spiders.”

“Yes, Sultana. The weakest ones usually take the form of common pests. They are spirits trapped in machines that weren’t made to move, warped by the theft of Your Blessing to allow them some small range of motion. They consume their brethren until they are fast enough to hunt for bigger prey.”

A few solid chunks of information, that. Finally. We rounded a corner and had an unobstructed view of the sky for the first time in a while. The bottom, where it would have met the land, was already pitch black. The darkness would reach the city outskirts soon. Did anyone survive the attack? I have seen enough ferals to last me for a decade, but there don’t seem to be more of these polygon soldiers that mowed down the militia.

“What about the red guys? The ones at the gate. Are they Ferals, too?”

“No, they are Shackled, Sultana.”

I glanced at him. There was a pit in my stomach that told me I wouldn’t like where this line of questioning was going, but I ignored it. I had to know. Had to push on.

“What does that mean?” I asked. We had reached a dead end. The alley ended at a wall twice my height. Some sort of wooden shack leaned against it. Perhaps a toolshed, perhaps a home for someone less fortunate. Someone less fortunate? In this city? It was hard to imagine AI constructs being down on their luck.

Zephyro jumped on the roof of the wooden structure, with a single bound and extended his hand toward me. “We do not know how they managed to, but the Humans have found a way to tame the Ferals.” I grabbed his hand and he just kept talking as he pulled me up in one easy motion. It felt like being launched by a trebuchet. Panic lanced through me as I hit the apex of my rise, but I managed to hold in my curses and even landed in a somewhat smooth crouch. Zephyro hit the floor beside me in an impeccable pose, casually easing into a smooth jog as if he hadn’t just landed from three meters up in the air. His armor rattled a little, and dust swirled dramatically from under his feet, but that was it. We exchanged glances and I decided to drop the topic so we could get back on our way.

“All we know,” Zephyro continued, scooting sideways down a particularly narrow passage, “is that the humans shackle them to their will and feed their Shackled the essence of other Ferals they have hunted, to make the Shackled grow. Some of them are nothing more than beasts walking on two legs, snarling and rabid. A few blows and they perish. But the more they feast the smarter they get and… Well, Sultana, you have to watch out for the calm ones.”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” I said. We jumped down from a small bridge into a dried-out canal below. I tried to avoid the animal bones and trash as we hurried on. “The humans shackle the Ferals. Alright. But how? With some sort of program? A virus or something?” The feeling in my stomach grew worse, asking me to stop and hide. To wait for someone else to make things right again. I clamped down on those thoughts by stoking my anger. If those fuckers tried that on me, then…

“Yes, Sultana. A shackle is basically a parasite, siphoning your Blessing to spawn more of its kind.”

Well, there I had it. That had almost happened to me. They probably had gotten some sort of remote access to the network and just pumped the virus in, hoping for the best. I didn’t know why the shackle had been able to clamp onto my personality matrix. I wasn’t some sort of program. I was a real person. I had pumped weeks’ worth of my Blessing into the personality matrix. It was far too advanced for a random virus to even recognize it. There was also absolutely no way for these Conservationist fucks to know I wasn’t an AI like the others, so a custom job was out of the question. They didn’t even have the tech for it. They didn’t then, and they wouldn’t now. Not after so many years. Everything I had advanced had probably long broken down, and unless Chris had built them more, all my machines were—

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

I stumbled over a broken bucket in the canal and cursed. My body slammed into the grime-covered wall as I failed to brace myself. I remained upright, stopping for a second to silently scream and slap my fists on my thighs. No. No matter! No need to spend all the rage yet. My robes were close to being ruined already, it didn’t matter if I wasn’t presentable anymore. With a sigh, I pushed myself off of the stupid wall and resumed hurrying after Zephyro. I needed to stay calm. Stay logical.

I nearly stumbled again, gritting my teeth in frustration. “Logical.” The Logic! I kept forgetting it was just out there, ready to be used by everyone. I was so used to the fact that I had a monopoly on technology, but now… No. I had to be sure.

“Zephyro, when you say the humans feed the Shackled the essence of other Ferals, you mean they let them absorb Logic from other machines?”

He looked uncomfortable at how I had phrased it, but he responded nonetheless. “Yes, Sultana.”

“So you can use Logic to advance computer programs? Like you?”

He recoiled, offended. He almost looked like he was going to slap me. For a second, I considered telling him to tough it up and see what happened. But then I remembered his face when he had to leave his soldiers behind. It had been so forlorn, so anguished... How can you tell me to devour my people?

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it like that.” It sounded weak, even to me but it seemed to be enough. His expression went back to neutral, and when he hurried up after me, his movements were smooth, almost relaxed. After catching up, he just nodded in response to my question.

So it was possible that this shackle virus had absorbed some ambient Logic (which I assumed was a thing, if Zephyro’s earlier comments were something to go by) and just happened to mutate into a version that was able to handle the complexity of a real human personality matrix. Well fuck my luck, I guess.

A few meters later, I felt Zephyro’s gauntleted hand grabbing my arm. It felt surprisingly gentle. He pointed towards a few steps carved into the side of the gully, and we hurried upwards, immediately turning right. We reached a door that Zephyro kicked in as if it were cardboard then motioned for me to enter. Panting, I moved inside, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I found we were inside what probably would have been a perfectly regular house in this city. I caught glances of a table, two benches, a primitive stove, and carpets. Probably some sort of living room. A living room for a group of AI spawned from another AI. Holy shit. It smelled of spices and wood drying in the sun.

The other door led back out to the street, and Zephyro motioned for me to check if everything was clear. I glanced through a fresh-looking hole in the wood and immediately spotted several rats, making their way through the alley ahead and breaking into houses with eerily quiet greed.

Looking back at the vizier, I shook my head, and after a moment’s hesitation, he motioned towards the stairs up. I had assumed they’d lead to a second level, but at the end of the staircase, an empty doorframe revealed the collapsing night sky, fire, and smoke. Zephyro motioned for me to go, go, go, and so up the stairs and towards the fire we went.

“Being able to control the Blessing is a rare power, Sultana.” Zephyro said as he entered the roof behind me after I’d given the all-clear. Around us, the once immaculate city was burning in earnest, the red sheen of fire enveloping entire blocks. No part of the city, rich and poor alike had been spared. In the distance, close to the palace, the archives burned like a pillar of flame. Every gust of wind carried with it the smell of a city on fire—that unique mixture of warm wood, ash, and superheated fat, mixing with the dry notes of hot stone dust and the acrid tang of tar.

Zephyro moved to stand at my side, a loose strand of his turban whipping in the hot breeze and tickling against my face. He caught it and re-wrapped it, all businesslike. I remembered that night at Advance’s Pinnacle, looking down on a disturbingly similar sight. I wished I could have been as collected about it as him. Maybe it would have changed things.

“None of my people know how to bestow your Blessing onto others,” Zephyro continued, unaware of my thoughts. “Even I can only pass it on if I freely give of my own essence, and only onto a child born of the city. Once, and just once, I gave a bit of your Blessing to a Feral. I pray you understand it was to try and heal, or at least tame it. Like enticing a wild animal with treats. But no, it just… Ah, I would not besmirch your ears with the tale, Sultana.”

For a while, he was quiet, fire dancing in his eyes and infernal winds rustling his clothes. Then he shook his head. “I must offer humble apologies. We shouldn’t dally any longer.” He turned before I could say anything and walked toward the edge of the roof.