The human and the an-droid were in a cramped room, hidden in a maze of hallways in the outer wing of the Hanging Palace. Not a place you’d expect to find a god.

Maybe that’s why they’re holed up in here.

He couldn’t blame Poire, for wanting to stay away from all the prying eyes and over-eager servants. Not to mention, the zealous avians who would do anything - anything - to earn favor from a living god.

The an-droid was standing at a tall, wooden workbench with a system of pipes feeding into gaslights shining on neatly-organized piles of metal fragments. Polished gears and tubes and slender metal rods and coils of copper wire were arranged perfectly across the table. Her motors whispered softly as she tinkered with something, twisting this with her fingers, or prying that into place with the flat side of a screwdriver. Pieces of her new armor were lying on the table, and she was soldering something into the underside of the plates.

A machine that can build itself. Huh.

And Poire was sitting cross-legged on a pillow, his back propped up against the wooden frame of his bed. A small window illuminated his face, his skin shining like black violet in the late sunlight. There was a strip of cloth tied around his eyes.

Why?

As Eolh’s talons clicked on the floorboards, Laykis set down her tools and bowed to Eolh. “Hello guardian.”

Poire turned his head. And his face fell.

“It didn’t work,” Poire said, the disappointment clear in his voice. “I can still see it through the fabric.”

“See what?”

Poire reached up, and untied the blindfold. If Eolh hadn't been watching, he might have missed it. There was something wrong with his eyes. His eyes shimmered with light, barely visible. It reminded Eolh of the foggy light from the gas lanterns in the early morning. A light seen through mist. And then it was gone.

“What’s with the blindfold?”

“I thought if I covered my eyes, I wouldn’t see it, but,” A sad smile played on the fledge’s face, “But I could still see you. I could still see it.”

The vision. What else could he be talking about?

Eolh still didn’t understand it. Still didn’t quite believe it, to be honest, but that wasn’t why he was here. He was here to say goodbye. For all he knew, this would be the last time he ever saw the human.

“Poire,” he said. And then, he stopped. Because he didn’t know what to say next. There was no reason for it. Not really. But he had grown to like the fledge, for who he was. Not the all-powerful god he was supposed to be. But the fledgling human that he was. Young. Curious. And far too optimistic, for the last orphan of an entire species.

So he tried to think of the words, and found that they all stuck in his throat.

Poire who caught him off guard. “So, when are you leaving?”

“How did you know?”

“I was listening,” Poire’s smile widened, “Just like you taught me.”

“We were alone in the temple. There was no one around. How?”

“Guardian,” Laykis said, addressing Eolh. She had set down her tools, and folded her hands - one new, one old - together. Plates of her body were still laying on the table, so he could see the exposed wiring and arcane machinery, naked to the air. It was only a little unsettling. “Guardian, if you want to hold a private meeting, perhaps you should avoid the towers the Makers built.”

Poire’s smile was far too cocky for his own good. He raised an eyebrow, and asked again. “So? When did Ryke ask you to go?”

That was the moment Eolh should’ve known something was up - when Poire said it eagerly. This is a trap. He wants something. But Eolh couldn’t see how.

“I leave tomorrow morning. I came up here to say-” A hitch caught in his throat. Why was this so hard? “Fledge, I only came to say goodbye. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Say goodbye to someone else. We’re going with you.”

Eolh’s first instinct was to laugh. This was a joke. How could it be anything else? But when Poire blinked at him expectantly, Eolh had that nervous feeling. The kind he used to get when a job was about to go south.

“You can’t be serious,” the corvani said. He turned to Laykis, “Is he serious?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

Maybe he doesn’t understand. Maybe…

He was just a fledgling, so he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Eolh kneeled down, so that his face was level with Poire’s. The fledge’s eyes kept focusing and unfocusing, as if he was seeing something in Eolh’s face that wasn’t there.

“Poire. Do you understand where I’m going?”

“Through the gate,” Poire’s jaw was set. “You’re going to spy on the cyrans. To see if there can be peace.”

“I don’t know what I’ll find there. Hells, I barely know what the cyrans are like. For all I know, they could be waiting on the other side, just to kill us. To take us hostage. You think I want to go? No. But this has to be done.”

“Exactly,” Poire said. “That is exactly why I have to go. You don’t understand what I’m seeing. No one does. Not here at least.”

“They’re just visions.”

“How do you know?” Poire said, viciously.

“It’s not worth risking your life.”

“Tell me I’m safe here. Tell me the Empire can’t reach me. Tell me there are no other assassins on this entire planet.”

Eolh ground his beak shut. This was absolutely absurd. That was the most frustrating part of this all.

“You can’t,” Eolh said, with a note of finality. Trying to end this.

“It can’t be so dangerous. The Queen would never send you, if she thought it was. You have to know that.”

And he did. In his deepest heart, he did know that the Queen wouldn’t risk his life so easily. If it were life and death… she would probably go herself.

“Eolh...” Poire said.

It was the way he said it. He wasn’t begging. The fledge was talking down, to him. As if Eolh were new to this world, and Poire knew everything..

“Stop,” Eolh snapped, “Even for you, this is a stupid idea.”

Poire recoiled, stung by his words, but Eolh didn’t care. Every time the fledge got an idea in his head, getting it back out was like trying to cut down a kapok tree with nothing but your beak. He had to make sure Poire understood this time. No more running off, just because he had a feeling.

“You are the only thing standing between the Empire and the death of every living being in this city. You saw what they did. You know what they will do. They are monsters.”

“They’re people.”

Eolh could feel his crest feathers flaring up. “They crucified us. They made us slaves.”

The an-droid spoke, her clicking voice cutting through the air, “And what was the Cauldron like before that? Was it really so perfect?”

He whirled on her. “You too? What is this? You don’t have any idea what the Cauldron was like back then.”

“And you don’t know what Cyre is like.”

“They killed my friends.”

“How many cyrans have you killed?”

Eolh cawed his frustration. He threw his wing up, turning his back on the two of them. To hells with both of them. He didn't need to hear any of this. A few moments ago, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to say goodbye. Now, he couldn’t get away fast enough.

“Eolh,” Poire said. His voice was shaking. His cheeks were flushed. “I am not asking for your permission. I’m asking for your help.”

How dare you? Eolh thought. He should’ve walked out of the room, right there. Without another word. If he wanted to go to Cyre so bad, let him figure his own way.

But there was something in Poire’s next words that made him stay. Something…

“Please,” Poire said. And now, he was begging. “I have to go to Cyre. I know you’re right. I know it’s dangerous, and I am afraid. But I have to go.”

“Why?”

Poire said nothing. He was squeezing his eyes shut, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Eolh.

“Tell me why, Poire. One good reason.”

Still nothing.

Even Laykis was getting antsy now. “Show him,” she said. “Show him why, Poire.

And there was that clear mist again. Glowing. The barest wisps of steam, pouring up from Poire’s closed eyes.

What?

His eyes shot open. A brilliant, white light that lit up the whole room. His face was contorted, a rictus of pain. He was shaking all over now, as if he was trying to heft some great weight with just his mind.

And then, Eolh could see it, too.

On the walls. On the corners of the workbench. A faint outline. The shadow of an image sitting on reality.

And when he looked at Laykis, he saw her change. The tips of her fingers, beginning to rust. Crumpling in on themselves. No, not crumpling. Being eaten away. Exposing the wires, the gears, the complex innards of her arms. Her shoulders. Her chest.

And over there, Poire was crying. There were streaks of tears running down his cheeks, but his face was still frozen in that gritting mask of pain.

And when Eolh looked at his own fingers, his stomach lurched. Oh, gods...

The light went out first, and the Poire shut his eyes. Or maybe it was the other way around.

Eolh fell back against the wall, as if something had just let go of his chest.

Poire fell back against his bed. Groaning.

“What the,” Eolh said through heavy breaths, “What the hells was that?”

“I don’t know,” Poire said. He was still crying, squeezing his eyes closed. “I don’t know.”

He’s not making it up. I thought he was making it up.

But this… this was something Eolh had never seen.

“And what are you seeing?” Eolh said, breathlessly.

“Laykis, what is this? What’s wrong with him?”

“Do you understand now?” The an-droid said. There was still that lingering shadow around her, but already it was fading, like a badly remembered dream. “He is not the first. We believe something is coming, Eolh. Do you see why he must go?”

Eolh shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. If anything, this vision only made him more important, didn’t it? What would possibly make them think this was a good idea? Poire was just a child, more confused and lost than any of them. He had to stay here. To stay safe.

The an-droid should know better. She should know.

Millions of lives… Monsters...

Everything they had fought for…

But what about the light? What about this … thing?

Eolh unclenched his beak. Forced himself to speak. “What if he stays here, until I get back?”

“What if you don’t come back?” Laykis said.

“If he goes to Cyre,” Eolh said, “Then we give up the only one who can protect us. The cyrans- If he gets caught-”

Laykis said, “This is not a chance we can afford to take. If there is even an ounce of truth in these visions, there may be more at stake than aviankind.”

And if you’re wrong? Eolh thought.

He stared up at the tiny window, where the evening sun was still pouring in. He blew a heavy breath through his nostrils. You’re out of your depth. The rules, Eolh. Never get in over your head. Which rule is that?

Only a few weeks ago, he had been focused on cutting purses, avoiding the Empire, and only taking on the safest jobs. A few weeks ago, the only thing he knew about humans was that he didn’t care about them. The only thing he knew about prophecies is they were full of gullshit.

And now, this.

What was he supposed to say?

Laykis pushed herself away from the workbench, and stood up. A couple tools jostled in place.

Her left flank was fully exposed, and he could see the wires bending as she moved, and the internal machinery underneath, some pieces simple, some so complex that Eolh couldn’t fathom how they were made. Her metal feet clunked softly against the floorboards as she came towards him.

“I will go with you, Eolh,” she said. Something about the calm, clicking confidence in her voice sapped all the anger out of Eolh. “I have been to Cyre. I spent a long time among the cyrans.”

I can’t believe I’m even thinking about this.

“Let’s say you’re right,” Eolh said, “Just for a moment, let’s say that. What is our plan?”

“We are going to a Library in a place above Cyre-”

“No, I mean. How will you hide? It’s easy enough for me. They’ll expect to see an avian crafter peddling his services. They’ll look at me, and they won’t think twice. But what about you two?”

“I’ll go as your apprentice,” Poire said. “And every crafter needs a droid, right?”

Eolh cawed. It’s so easy in his mind, isn’t it?

“And what if they find you out? What then, fledge? They have guns. Armies. More fangs than you would believe. What do you have?”

Poire pressed his lips together. Thinking. He picked up one of the flat-bladed tools from Laykis’s workbench. Tested its weight.

“I do have this.” He held up the blade. And rammed it into his eye socket.

“NO!” Eolh squawked.

But the liquid armor was faster. Eolh hadn’t even known it was there.

It shot up from the depths of Poire’s loose-fitting shirt, and caught the blade. The blade sank into the liquid metal, and when Poire pulled the knife away, all that was left of the tool was a wooden hilt. The tip of which was blackened.

His eye, however, was untouched.

“Gods damn it.” Eolh cawed. He grabbed Poire’s hand, and took the burned hilt from his fingers. His heart was hammering in his chest. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Then you’ll help us?”

“You,” He poked a finger into Poire’s chest, “Are paying for my funeral. Because when Ryke finds out, she is going to kill me for this.”

“I doubt it,” it was Laykis who answered, that mechanical voice clicking matter-of-factly. “Her Majesty likes you too much.”