Evenjos twisted up and away, into crisp morning air. She condensed into her phoenix bird form and flew past cottony puffs of clouds, climbing away from Ariock’s city. She circled towards the banded sphere that dominated the sky of this planet.

She would gladly fight battles. But only if someone valued her. Only if someone cared about her.

Of all the people in the universe, Ariock ought to value her as more than a mere soldier. They were special! Did Ariock truly believe they were nothing but tools? Weapons to be used up and then thrown away? Didn’t he understand that elite individuals such as themselves should not have to work until they broke or died?

Perhaps ongoing loneliness was Evenjos’s penance for ignoring the warnings of Ah Jun all those millenniums ago.

She felt as if she was still sealed inside that pitch-black tomb, neglected for a duration that could only be described as eternity. Could she escape the gnawing emptiness inside herself if she rocketed to another galaxy?

Let Ah Jun rot. Let her prophecies go unfulfilled.

Let Ariock fail in his futile war. She ought to reject him the way he had rejected her.

Except…

Evenjos still cared for Thomas. He was her friend. She wanted him to win.

Besides, she owed her help to all the people of this brutish era. She owed a debt to the entire galactic population of slaves, for her part in enabling the Torth Empire to rise.

Evenjos dipped her wing through a cloud, and thought about brutality.

Ariock had made a good point, as painful as it was to hear. She kept thinking in terms of the people she used to know. But Ariock and his warriors were not the types to lounge on divans and bicker about high fashion. Ariock did not see himself as a god-emperor. If he feared the inhibitor, he faced it anyway, just like his soldiers did. He saw himself not as a royal, but as a soldier with a job to do.

Perhaps Evenjos needed to adjust to a new paradigm.

She arced in a new direction, heading towards the grassy series of plateaus that everyone called the teleportation flats. She didn’t care what the soldiers thought of her, but she really wanted Ariock’s respect.

Hovercarts bussed soldiers up through narrow streets, past decorative archways lit by lanterns. The flats themselves were unadorned. Fluffy clouds reared like the tropical mountains. Beneath the colorful sky, the eighty thousand soldiers looked grim.

Evenjos would have chosen a more lighthearted color scheme for the army.

But she understood that black represented the opposite of oversaturated Torth decadence. Black was the traditional garb of Alashani warriors. It was the color of their ruined homeworld, and the eternal night where they had hidden from the Torth Empire during all the time that Evenjos had been imprisoned. Black represented freedom.

Ariock loomed in the center of the orderly square formations of soldiers. When he raised his immense battle axe high above his head, soldiers cheered. They yelled as if they could not contain their pride.

“We are going to take Ambient City!” Ariock said, his voice booming. “Happenstance City! And Treatise MetroHub!”

He outlined the battle plan Thomas had given him. Advance teams had already infiltrated the target cities, spreading rumors about freedom and rigging an intercom system.

Choonhulm was in charge of the special sneak-attackers. Those were all former slaves. Armed with blaster gloves, they were ready to disable the powers of any dangerous Torth. The Torth were so used to overlooking ummins, govki, and other slave species, they rarely saw a covert soldier until it was too late.

The regular soldiers worked themselves up while arranging themselves in square formations. Squares enabled Ariock to mass-teleport the army more easily.

Evenjos landed unobtrusively. She soared past the rear of one quadrant, where nussians blocked her from Ariock’s line of sight. As she settled to the ground, she resumed her default winged Lady form.

People noticed her metallic wings and her purple hair. Heads turned to watch her. Might she dare to go into battle this time?

The Torth had already evacuated much of Umdalkdul. They were even fleeing Morja and Jerja. Their overworked super-geniuses were desperately trying to invent something now, now, now.

Evenjos paced. What were the chances that she would get slammed with the inhibitor serum on a planet that was almost fully liberated and under Ariock’s control? She might never get a more opportune time to prove herself in battle.

The next planet would be more of a challenge. The planet after that would be worse.

There used to be a wide gulf of time and distance between spacefaring civilizations. Evenjos had not truly feared the Jodinak Empire, despite their greater power, because they were so very distant. They could not have coordinated a war from so far away.

The Megacosm made all the difference in intergalactic power dynamics.

And now Thomas was inventing superluminal communications technology. The galaxy would soon be knitted together in new and frightening ways.

This war could only escalate.

Some of the soldiers gave Evenjos disdainful looks. She tried to ignore them, but she wanted to scream in their faces. Would they be so self-righteous if they risked collapsing into an inert pile of dust for the rest of eternity?

Well. Perhaps they did take risks like that.

Maybe she should mindlessly follow orders, like they did? Maybe she should pretend to be as worthless as they saw themselves?

“Your highness!” Garrett called.

He approached, leaning on his silver walking staff. His crooked leg gave him a limping gait. “Uh, will you do me the honor of walking with me, your eminence?”

Garrett Dovanack knew the right honorifics to use for an empress. His royal etiquette was like a breath of refreshing cleanliness in a zoo filled with wild brutes. Dressed in his polished armor, he looked impressively gallant.

Yet Evenjos shook her head in refusal.

She did not trust this crafty old mind reader. After all, if the common soldiers disdained her, then Garrett must be even more keenly aware of her low status here. His flattery was all false. He simply wanted to use her power, like so many other people.

“Please.” Garrett offered his arm. “I would like to chat with you about my great-grandson.”

Ariock.

It was the only topic that Evenjos might wish to discuss.

She offered the barest hint of a nod in acquiescence. Garrett must be baiting her, but she would stay on guard. What did he think he could possibly get out of her?

“I’m pleased that you’re here.” Garrett indicated the gathering army. “You are very brave to consider joining us in battle. I understand the potential cost to you.”

He spoke in her archaic language, protecting her from the shame of being overheard.

Evenjos scanned his mood for any hint of ridicule, but there was none. Garrett was showing her a rare glimpse of honesty.

“I am uncertain if I can show up every time,” Evenjos admitted.

“Of course.” Garrett spread his armored hands in a gesture of acceptance. “Look, I have an idea. Why don’t you stay aboard an armored transport? That way, you can pick up soldiers who need healing while staying safe from the inhibitor yourself.”

The notion appealed to Evenjos. Hidden like that, she would likely be safe during the battles.

But Ariock would judge her a coward.

If she remained safe on Reject-20, as she had been doing, she could excuse herself by saying that she was protecting and bolstering the city. She was always busy healing people in the local hospitals.

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“You are not a coward,” Garrett said. “And really, anyone who thinks that is a fool. I include my great-grandson in that statement.”

At least Garrett wasn’t full of sneering disdain, like the common soldiers. And like Ariock. But why did Garrett care so ardently about her safety?

He must have Ah Jun’s prophecies memorized. He was probably trying to steer Evenjos towards a specific destiny, or something along those lines.

She shivered in disgust and walked onward.

“I’m not trying to manipulate you.” Garrett sounded frustrated. “You’ve endured worse suffering than anyone in this galaxy has the capacity to imagine. I’m aware of that, even if nobody else is. I’m aware that no one has earned the right to tell you what you should or shouldn’t fear. Or what risks you should or should not take.”

Evenjos stopped. He really did sound as if he cared about her, the way no one else in this era did, except, perhaps, for Thomas. Was it possible?

Garrett radiated sincerity. It was as fragrant as the pipes he liked to smoke.

“You’re not a coward.” He sounded certain. “The inhibitor won’t be a problem forever, you know. The boy is working on an antidote. Once we have that?” He shuffled closer. “You and I, and Ariock, will be invincible.”

And safe.

Evenjos studied the elderly man, trying to discern his motives. Why was he sympathetic to her plight?

Garrett was a lot like Ariock. Both of the Dovanacks regularly slashed their way through cities full of Torth who might destroy them with a micro-dart. They took huge risks every day.

Evenjos no longer believed that either Dovanack respected her.

Why should they? Even the lowliest soldier was braver than Evenjos. She looked down in shame.

“Your highness,” Garrett said. “I have seen you fight fearlessly. Ariock might have forgotten. But I was there, too.” He looked at her with helpless admiration. “When you’re angry, you are a sight to behold.”

As if monstrosity was something to value.

Unthinking rage was inexcusable in a Yeresunsa, especially in one as powerful as herself. Evenjos had emerged from her imprisonment with all the pent-up rage and anguish of millenniums. She had no wish to transform into a deadly behemoth ever again.

She gave Garrett a stern glare of disapproval. If he wanted her to go berserk with suffering, then he did not care about her at all. Nor did he care about the deadly blunders she would make in that uncontrolled state.

If he admired the powerful monster instead of the sorrowful woman, then he admired the wrong thing.

Garrett must have sensed her thoughts, because he looked alarmed. “No,” he said. “I don’t want you to lose yourself in rage. I understand what that’s like. And I would never wish it on anyone.”

He emanated regret as well as shame.

Evenjos realized that Garrett must have done something. He had blundered with his powers, perhaps in a similar way. He had caused trouble. Perhaps he had harmed or killed innocent bystanders?

As had Ariock.

Evenjos had doubts that Ariock had accidentally killed his own mother, though. He tended to take more blame than was warranted. He even blamed himself for catastrophes he had not directly caused, such as the destruction of the Torth Homeworld. He blamed himself for Vy’s amputated leg. He seemed halfway willing to blame himself for every slave who suffered at Torth hands. He was determined to save the universe—and he had turned the war into a personal matter.

“Ariock understands power.” Garrett’s shoulders slumped. “He is far more self-aware than I was, at his age. His way of thinking might be self-destructive, but it also ensures that he is careful. It keeps the people around him safe.”

Evenjos supposed there was something to that. If she had been as cautious and as guilty as Ariock, perhaps she would have been a more competent empress.

“Ordinary people believe that wielding power is easy,” Garrett said. “But power amplifies every action we take. I think we live with larger heartaches than most people. Our joyous moments might be intense, but our griefs and regrets are multiple times worse.”

The conversation reminded Evenjos of strolling through the crystal gardens, when she had discussed philosophy or epistemology with a peer or two. Garrett would have felt at home amongst the royalty of her era, just as easily as he waged urban battles in today’s war. He truly was a remarkable man.

Sorrow was etched into his wrinkled face. When Garrett spoke of grief and regret and the dangers of power, it seemed personal.

“Who did you hurt?” Evenjos made a guess. “Was it your wife? Or your daughter?”

Garrett turned away. Both.

He emanated so much pained guilt, Evenjos felt her own buried guilts stir up. She had watched her top advisor starve to death. She couldn’t do anything to help him, chained to that throne in the prison of mirrors.

Evenjos had stayed young and beautiful while her brothers grew old and died. She had outlived better people than herself. That entailed its own guilt.

“I used to be so afraid of drawing attention to myself,” Garrett said, “I failed to learn real control over my powers. You once expressed disgust that I am self-taught. Well, you are right. I needed a teacher. But even so, that’s no excuse for the accident I caused.”

Evenjos did not ask for a confession. She did not need to learn the exact details of what Garrett had done to his wife, or how his daughter had reacted, or the fallout. Whatever had happened, it had clearly been an accident.

Garrett was carrying a lot of guilt—perhaps even more than Ariock carried.

And she sensed an unspoken question. Was Garrett seeking absolution? Or did he want lessons on the finer points of self-control?

“I am not a teacher,” Evenjos reminded him gently.

Garrett looked disappointed.

“No Yeresunsa has perfect control,” Evenjos admitted. “That is a truth the Yeresunsa Order did not advertise. But is a truth nonetheless.”

Throughout the flats, soldiers rushed to finalize their square troop formations. They straightened, chests puffed out.

Ariock levitated, excess focus rolling off him in snapping crackles of electricity. He gave a final round of instructions, his heavy voice amplified by power. Soldiers pumped their fists in the air.

“The people of this era try to blur the line between royalty and commoner,” Evenjos observed. “But this is dangerous.”

In her time, no one except Unyat had tried to blur hereditary lines. Most people had known better. They had known that if royals and peasants intermarried, it would entail vast power differentials within families. There would be husbands with frightening power over their wives, or vice versa. Royal children would accidentally destroy their powerless parents. Such imbalance would unravel the very fabric of civilization. It was abominable.

That was why royals married royals, and commoners married commoners. That was how it should be.

“I know.” Garrett spoke with quiet pain.

She looked at him, wondering.

“I married a commoner,” Garrett said. “So to speak. I married someone whose power was vastly different than my own.”

And he regretted it. That was clear, judging by the sorrow that suffused his mind. He had accidentally hurt his commoner wife.

Perhaps he had even killed her by accident.

Tentative, Evenjos reached for Garrett’s grizzled cheek. She stroked his face, exploring the craggy, sorrowful depths.

It was comforting to know that a brute of this era could accept the price of power: the bitterness of inequity. This man was not the thug she had assumed him to be. Not at all.

Evenjos imagined Ariock, titanic and afraid of nothing, wielding that axe in battle, and then pretending to be meek and mundane for his human girlfriend.

What a hopeless fool.

Maybe Evenjos ought to seek love from someone wiser?

Garrett was more seasoned with life experiences. He was closer to her own biological age. Although he lacked the astronomical raw strength of Ariock, he was powerful enough, and noble enough in spirit, to match any royal from her era. He had the impressive Dovanack boldness. Yet his boldness was tempered with attractive, hard-won caution.

“I, too, loved a commoner.” Evenjos trembled, admitting one of her secret shames out loud. “I outlived him. He died.”

That secret love affair was not the sort of thing she would have admitted to her peers. But in Garrett’s company, Evenjos felt as if she was speaking with a friend. She wanted to get to know him better.

“I’m sorry.” Garrett grasped her hand.

Evenjos sensed a yearning in his mind that echoed her own. He yearned to remove his armored glove so he could caress her skin.

Instead, he let go of her hand, and said, “I know how much you care about Ariock.”

His chuckle was regretful.

A ghost lingered in his mind. Garrett was determined to remain devoted to that ghost of his wife, no matter what, as if he owed her his love even beyond the grave. Garrett still loved that commoner.

Evenjos stepped back, frustrated. Were all Dovanack men fools in the same way? Commoners were just fragile creatures. Commoners died easily. How could they be worthy of love by someone with majestic powers?

Well, she used to be just as delusional.

Evenjos swept aside the ache in her heart, or she tried to. She never should have allowed herself to fall in love with someone so fragile, so mortal. He had died eons ago. Yet the ache of missing him never ended.

“I understand,” Garrett said, responding to her thoughts. “Perfectly.”

Evenjos swallowed a lump in her throat. Garrett truly did understand. She sensed that he was damaged in the same way she was.

“That is why I know Ariock needs you,” Garrett said.

Ah. So here it was. Garrett had probably seen a prophecy, maybe something along the lines of Transformation saving Strength. He had no interest in Evenjos for her own sake. He just wanted—

“You misunderstand,” Garrett said. “Evenjos, I’m not talking about the prophecies right now. I am talking about dynasty.” He grasped her shoulders, gentle with his armored hands. “You and Ariock are made for each other. You can’t hurt each other. You can found a new civilization—one where Yeresunsa rule, the way they did in your time.”

Ah. How tempting.

Ariock could only be dragged down by a powerless commoner such as Vy. He deserved someone who was in his league of power and strength.

“He will come to his senses.” Garrett stepped closer, as though he couldn’t help gazing into her lavender eyes. “I mean, look at you.” He gestured up and down. “Not only are you a goddess with superpowers and the most perfect sense of beauty I’ve ever seen, but you care deeply about justice. You’re the avatar of Transformation. Any man who rejects you is a complete moron.”

He emanated so much admiring certainty, Evenjos could not help but smile.

Her pleasure was tinged with bitterness, though. Garrett and Ariock had both rejected her. Did that make them both morons?

“I’ve chosen loneliness,” Garrett said. “I don’t have room in my heart for…” He clenched a fist over his chest. “Look, I’m an old man. I don’t have much of a future left. My death is preordained.”

Evenjos studied him, wondering how true that was.

“But Ariock?” Garrett went on. “He’s founding an empire. He has a future, and he needs help from you.”

Evenjos sensed Garrett’s enormous love and concern for his great-grandson. It seemed he had repurposed all of the love he used to feel for his family, and channeled it towards his sole heir.

That was honorable, in a way. Royal families did that sort of thing. Garrett was trying to secure a legacy.

Evenjos flexed her wings, and thickened her dress from gossamer to armor. She could not bear children for Ariock, but she thought that Garrett was correct, in terms of what his great-grandson needed. Ariock should learn a thing or two about ruling planets. She could act as his tutor.

And perhaps Ariock could stand to learn a few other things. Such as the fact that a breakable commoner was not a suitable love interest for someone with cosmic power.

“That’s right.” Garrett’s gaze lingered on Evenjos with approval. “You’re perfect.” He seemed to realize there might be room for misunderstanding, and clarified. “For Ariock.”