If it felt like everyone in the Cauldron was watching her, it’s because they were. Dozens, sometimes hundreds of eyes, focused on her every move, as if - any moment now - she might perform some kind of miracle. But, in Khadam’s view, the miracle had already happened.

This city should not exist. These people - humanoid, semi-humanoid, and beyond - should not exist. All the myriad cultures and lifestyles and creeds, all in a flowing state of chaotic harmony. All, an accident of humanity’s bio-engineering, and the infrastructural remains of a long-destroyed conclave.

Before anything else, Khadam felt the urge to explore this pseudo-ancient place. So, the Queen Ryke had sent Khadam down into the city with a full retinue of guards. Falkyr warrior, stiff and stern.

“Not that you’ll need them,” Ryke had said, “But just in case.”

At first, Khadam suspected the guards were there to spy on her, but as she headed into the Midcity, she realized she would’ve been swallowed by the crowds, if not for the warriors. Still, some avians reached out and begged for her blessing as she wandered the streets. Others just gawked, curious avians turning their heads, or reptilian humanoids licking their unblinking eyeballs, most of them scattering before the sight of the huge, dark-winged guards who tailed her. Others stole secret glances in her direction, as if they were afraid to behold her glory - and afraid to miss it, as well. Even the cockiest merchants went silent as she passed, clutching their wares and bowing in her presence.

Everywhere Khadam went, she left a wake of quiet reverence. She was getting used to it.

What she wasn’t getting used to was the Cauldron’s constant assault on her senses.

Cramped, narrow houses sat right next to busy thoroughfares, their balconies and awnings hung with forests of fresh-laundered fabric or dangling flower-tipped vines speckled with flowers. Most of the buildings were brick and mortar, running five, six, or seven stories tall. Some of them leaned over the streets, or seemed to sag against their neighbors. The avians and other denizens seemed to have no regard for height - the rooftops were just as busy as the avenues below. Feathered things flittered above, casting black shadows that cut through the sunlight in brief bursts.

Around every corner, another experience unfolded in her path. Here, a group of white avians, with hundreds of long, ceremonial strings fastened to their silken feathers, shuffled down an alley, humming and cooing some kind of morning prayer. High above, another avian was clinging to a chimney, his talons clutching the bricks as he chopped down a huge mass of vines with a curved machete. Chut! Chut! He chopped, and clumps of green leaves and vines littered the walkway.

At the top of one cracked stone staircase, she could see all the trees and shrubs and vinehedges still steaming with their morning mist. And she could see down the cliffs, to Lowtown. Much of it had been razed, with huge black lance marks running straight lines through the ruins. But the activity down there was the loudest. Birds calling out, hammers smacking old nails into new buildings, cranes swinging slow arcs as they dropped their cargo to the ground.

Some kind of battle? No. A war, she thought the Queen had said. There was so much history here. History that Khadam didn’t have time to learn.

She stepped out into an avenue, and a group of children ran past her, squawking and squeaking. She moved out of the way before their game caught her, but one of the vendors who had set up - almost in the street - was not so lucky. One of the children smashed against his cart, rocking his huge clay bowls, and splashing him with some kind of batter. The vendor raised a wooden spoon to swat at the children, but they were already bouncing and hopping and flapping down the street.

Another vendor was laughing at the battered-covered avian. She was roasting long strips of sliced fruit, the flesh orange and pink, on a spit. It smelled incredible to Khadam. The last thing she had eaten had been packaged and stored who knew how many thousands of years ago.

Can you even eat their food? Probably descended from whatever the biologists had grown here, but given the evolutionary explosion, it could be anything at this point. Khadam walked over to the roasting fruit, and leaned in. She pointed at one, and the vendor nodded emphatically, picking up two sticks, their tips blackened by the fire, and handed them to her. “Please!” her voice was a haunting blend of bird and human, “Please, eat! Best acazi in all Midcity, none better!”

The batter-covered vendor crossed his arms, still clutching his spoon, as he cast a dubious look on her claims. Khadam took the fruit sticks anyway. She sniffed. So damn sweet, with just a hint of citrusy tang. Before she tried them, Khadam sent an impulse to one of her implants. A slight metallic ridge, embedded on the back of her hand, opened up. She rubbed the fruit against the implant, letting it taste for her. A display appeared in the corner of her vision, listing out the fruit's chemicals and other elements in descending order, and even an approximation of its nutritional value. But the only thing she wanted to see was the bright green check mark, letting her know that it was safe to eat.

She turned the stick sideways, and took an awkward bite. The skin was caramelized by the fire, and cracked under her teeth, tasting of pure sugar. Inside, it was tangy and tart and juicy. And for a long moment, nothing else existed but the two fruit sticks in her hand, and her.

She was halfway through the second stick, when something made a loud, chuffing snort in her ear. She almost choked. A massive lizard-like beast that must’ve weighed a ton, was standing behind her, grunting needfully at her. Its mouth was open, and its bright, pink tongue was uncurling slowly out towards her hand. The driver, who was sitting on the beast’s cargo-laden back, was tugging desperately at the reins, but the beast was still inching closer to Khadam’s fruit stick.

“Stop it! Choro, stop! Your Divinity, all my deepest apologies!” the driver, a stout old avian with blue and gray coloring, shouted down from his perch as he muscled at the reins. The beast seemed not to notice he was there at all. It licked its lips, or whatever it was that giant pack lizards have. It’s beady eyes, comically small for such a huge frame, were locked on her hands.

“You want to try some too?” she asked, tipping the stick in the beast’s direction. Its tongue shot out faster than she could see, and wrapped around Khadam’s arm. Yanking her off balance. A dozen different alarms shrieked in her mind as her implants panicked, and she had to manually stop several defensive nodes from unleashing their payloads. When she pulled her hand back, the fruit was gone, stick and all. And a thin layer of slime covered her hand. She wiped it on her bio-suit, the same one she had worn in the cold chamber, all those months ago.

Behind her, there was a flurry of motion as the falkyr guards stormed through the crowd, their towering, athletic frames easily carrying over the shorter folk. Twelve of them fanned out around Khadam and the beast, bristling and ready to strike anyone who came too close to Khadam. The driver was attempting to bow before her while still sitting on his pack animal, begging her forgiveness. Meanwhile, the same animal had discovered the rest of the fruit vendor’s supply - four barrels full of uncooked fruit - and was stretching its huge, curled tongue slowly out. Growing braver by the second.

“Relax,” she said to the falkyr, “It’s fine. He just wanted to taste.”

Khadam patted the lizard’s rough, scaly hide to show them everything was fine. She would have to talk to Ryke about this situation. Khadam was a grown woman, and could take care of herself, thank you. The guards were a nice gesture, but they were making people nervous. Besides, everything about this place was as close to paradise as their technology would allow. Next time, a tour guide would suffice.

Next time? She asked herself. What do you mean next time? You have somewhere to be.

“Divinity!” the driver bowed his head again, sliding lower in his saddle, “I beg your forgiveness. Please! I deserve nothing from you!”

“No worries, friend.” She said, “But you might want to keep an eye on your pet.”

She nodded at the lizard, whose head was shoved into a barrel that had once been filled with fruit. No more.

“Choro! You gluttonous oaf! You are going to eat all my money!”

Khadam walked away, shaking her head and smiling as the driver’s outrage echoed over the crowds. Shoppers and window watchers and strolling pairs of avians in light suits or flowing dresses and huddled groups of mask-wearing rodent-like humanoids. All of them turned to stare at her, and press themselves out of her way as she wandered through the shops, the houses, the winding alleyways covered with vines. Khadam could almost imagine she was walking through the streets of ancient humanity. Somewhere after gunpowder, and before the age of algorithms. The dark ages.

You’re delaying.

But what a strange, impossible city this was. Khadam had even seen constructs in the city, which didn’t make sense. The people here had only just discovered electricity. How could they already make constructs? What powered them?

And yet, there they were. Clumsy, cloddish, rickety, makeshift things. Small drones that walked on two legs, or four. Or crawled up the walls on six, and chirped sentry. There were even a few walking platforms wielding firearms, though these were always accompanied by avian guards in stiff uniforms.

Most disconcerting of all, the constructs always - always - stopped and stared at her. They were worse than the avians. It didn’t matter what they were doing, or where they were going. One little chikroid, a two-legged thing that barely came up to her knee, stopped in the middle of the avenue to watch her pass, almost getting trampled in the process.

She wanted to grab one and inspect it for herself. Maybe later, if there’s time.

Khadam let her gaze settle on the northernmost tower. It, and six of its siblings, rose high against the backdrop of the city. Hundreds of feet taller than any other piece of architecture. This one’s walls were made of huge, seastone bricks. Thick and fortified like the walls of an ancient castle. Only, these bricks went higher than masonry alone should have allowed - for they used the old shield pylons as a supporting beam.

Dozens of shapes flocked up to the balconies that wrapped around the middle of the tower, settling on the rails and heading into those high depths the people here held sacred. She wasn’t ready, yet. The truth was, every time she thought about how beautiful and alive this city was, she felt a pang in her chest. She couldn’t stop smiling. How colorful the people, and everything they do.

She almost didn’t want to begin...

A bell rang out across the streets. A voice lifted. Neither human, nor bird, but something in between. The voice held a note, sustaining it. Treasuring it. Calling all to heed the glory of this morning prayer.

Khadam breathed in the city one last time - all its oily fumes and brick dust, all it’s squeaking carts and merchants shouting their goods, all its fruits and vines and fresh linens and wax candles in windows - and she sighed.

She hoped, when she was done, this place would still be here. Hoped she might have time to delve into its history. After you’ve watched the life leave his eyes.

The bell tolled again. Calling her to that same temple.

Time to go to work.