August finished covering the roof of the [Kiln] over entirely and then refuelled the two fires a final time. He stole a thicker branch from one of the fires, the end of it burnt and glowing, before standing back up. He dragged the body of the [Mitikos] beside him, struggling a bit with its weight, before depositing it on one of the leftover cutting boards with a wet thump.

He pulled the shade up on the hut and pinned it back before ducking down to the empty campfire. He’d have to start scavenging more firewood from the treeline at the rate he was burning through it. Then again, only the furnace would need to be running from tomorrow onwards. He rebuilt the fire and used the still burning coal to light it, saving himself some effort.

A distant crack, followed by the creaking, heralded what had to be the seventh tree being felled. He doubted they’d work for much longer, given the rapidly diminishing light. As it was, the sun was beginning to dip below the ridge and out of sight. He heard the voices barely a minute later and the sound of something being placed down outside. A glance through the shade found the [Kick-Wheel] being placed down across from the door.

“—depends on how deep we bury them,” Rittan admitted.

“I hope you’re not talking about me,” Haiko said, feigning concern. “But if you are, deep would be better; I’d like to cause you some trouble before you cover me over.”

“Shallow is the best I can do,” Kalter offered.

“Morbid, but convenient,” Rittan said, amused. “Shallow will make it easier to dig you back up whenever August gets around to bringing you back.”

August paused at the comment, turning it over in his mind—the branch he’d begun moving grew hot against his fingers, and he dropped it, snatching his hand back.

“Fuck,” August grunted, shaking his hand out. “I wonder if I can actually do that?”

“I am fairly certain of where we will end up should any of us die again,” Rittan said, kneeling by the door and beginning to prepare the [Mitikos] unprompted. “Limbo is unlikely to let us pass through the filter any time soon.”

The filter—he’d heard Rittan mention it on several occasions now.

“I would proceed with caution.” August frowned, “There’s no way to test that safely, and dying only to find out there is some kind of limit on reviving you would be less than ideal.”

“You are correct,” Rittan admitted, “Rest assured, I do not seek to return to that place.”

“Good,” August said, “What’s this ‘filter’ you keep mentioning? I recall it was part of Limbo?”

August sat back as a long blue leg passed in front of his face—Haiko stepping into the hut. He kept his eyes on the fire, not quite ready to interact with her after his earlier cowardice.

“It is a term that first emerged from the scientists of Hekaton,” Rittan said. “It refers to the experiential separation between Limbo and Rebirth.”

Haiko sat down across from him, her physical presence filling the area as a reminder that he couldn’t quite ignore.

“Is ‘Rebirth’ a place like Limbo?” August wondered, “Or are you referring to actual reincarnation?”

The questions were less of interest now and more a ruse of focused attention—he set about making a new set of skewers.

“I believe it refers to the latter,” Rittan clarified, “If there is another experience on the other side of the filter, it is out of reach of the Voithos.”

“So it’s an actual filter that stops certain beings from being reincarnated?” August wondered. “It’s actually something tangible and not just some kind of analogy or poetic interpretation?”

“Yes,” Rittan said, “But I do not believe it was designed to stop reincarnation.”

Kalter stepped inside, and he leaned back again as she passed without comment.

“What is it meant to do?” August asked, but the answer didn’t come from Rittan.

“To purge the soul of all attachments to the physical world,” Haiko said, holding several of her hands out towards the fire, fingers grasping at the light and drawing her fingers back. “You perceive it as an inexorable pull on your being, seeking to strip parts of you away but never acting.”

The embers of the fire floated up between her hands, tiny motes of light vanishing within moments.

“It is not a pleasant feeling,” Rittan murmured.

“Why can’t the Voithos pass through?” August asked.

The question was no longer directed at anyone in particular; all three of them had experience with the topic—diffusing it to the group also made it easy to pretend he wasn’t talking directly to Haiko.

“No idea,” Kalter offered unhelpfully.

“The answer is an unsatisfying one, I’m afraid,” Haiko said, amused. “It is a conflict born from our unchanging nature resisting the filter’s attempt to disassemble our souls.”

“What do you mean by unchanging nature?” August asked.

“The Voithos do not age, and our bodies won’t naturally deteriorate over time as most others do,” Haiko explained, “This was a result of experiments on our souls, or so I’ve heard from people with a far better understanding of the topic.”

August paused in the process of handing Rittan the finished skewers. The Voithos must have noticed because he leaned in and pulled them carefully from his unmoving hand.

“Sorry,” August said, pulling his hand back. “You’re immortal?”

“By some metrics, perhaps,” Rittan said, answering his question. “We are still prone to injury and sickness.”

“Fire, weapons, and monsters all work too,” Kalter said, ticking them off on her hand.

“I believe he said immortal, not invulnerable,” Haiko said, leaning forward to take one of the offered skewers from Rittan. “Thank you.”

“If they could figure out a way to make you like this,” August said carefully. “Why wouldn’t they fix it after you died?”

“Because the Gaians don’t care about anyone except for themselves,” Kalter said, without even having to think about it. “They took what they learned from making us and then moved on without even bothering to look back.”

Haiko hummed at the characterisation before speaking up.

“The scientists who first designed and funded our creation were long dead by the time of our decommission,” Haiko said, far more diplomatically. “Given that there were five-hundred-thousand Voithos, there is nobody left with both the resources and motivation to undertake such a task—and so we remain forgotten.”

“Until now,” Rittan murmured.