I wasn’t sure how long I had been waiting. All sense of time had vanished somewhere within the vast expanse of uncertainty that existed between hours and days. There was no point of reference with which to count the seconds and they soon began to merge, one into the other.

At some point, I had fallen asleep and woken to a meal of water in a metal carafe and a bar of some kind brown-grey substance served on a red ceramic plate. The bar resembled granola but somehow drier and less appealing. I recognized it as a common staple among the Peacekeepers. It was no doubt high in calories and nutrition and low in anything resembling flavor.

They had fed me better last time, if only slightly. The food did, however, mean that my captors had some interest in keeping me alive. I had no idea what their motivation was or for how long it would last. Sebbit didn’t seem like the kind to murder me out of hand, but I had no idea what system of laws and justice he followed.

The Peacekeeper captain struck me as the kind that would follow the letter of the law with ruthless efficiency. I remembered something my father had once told me, “true justice is free of mercy.” It was a comforting thought until one ran up against that justice.

Before I figured out what was going on I would have to hope that Peacekeeper law – or Hegemonic law, I wasn’t sure on the exact relationship between the two – would grant me some version of basic ‘human’ rights.

In the meantime, I waited.

I kept my mind active by reviewing the events of the past weeks. I would replay images, and dwell on my mistakes. I had more of them than I care to admit. My memory was still sharp, much sharper than it was before the system had enhanced it – though not to the superhuman level I had been used to.

I wasn’t sure if this meant that I still had some bonus from the system, or if there were other explanations. The Companion seemed an obvious suspect, or at least a source of information, but it hadn’t revealed itself to me since my imprisonment had begun.

It was possible that I hadn’t lost my abilities, perhaps I was only blind to the them or they had been countered by some temporary effect. I decided to test my physical abilities to get some form of baseline I could compare to my earlier abilities. It was most likely useless, but it gave me direction. I needed something to break up the silence and fill the emptiness.

My every waking moment was spent alternating between calisthenics and attempting to communicate with the Companion. Sometimes I would shout at the walls or bargain with myself in quiet whispers. At other times, I would sit in meditation, despite having no real sense of how to do so.

I simply sat and tried to find a sense of peace – some quiet corner of my mind. It hadn’t born fruit yet, but I did find the practice surprisingly comforting. It brought me to the realization that what I desired was control, even over myself.

It was during one of these quieter moments that my wait finally ended.

The short hissing sound of pressurized air being released was accompanied by the clicking of metal gears grinding against each other. The door of my prison cell slid open, disappearing into a recess in the wall. Within the doorframe stood a tall silhouette backed by dull blue light.

There had been no warning, and at first my mind didn’t register the event.

It was as if I had forgotten that the door existed, or perhaps I had given up hope that it would ever open. What brought me back to my sense was the smell; pure unfiltered air filled my cell. I breathed in deeply before looking up.

“You’re not who I was expecting,” I said.

“And who, exactly, were you expecting?” said Catayla.

She was wearing a new uniform, this one completely white and without any armored plates. The full body jumpsuit had no adornments except for a single circular patch on the left shoulder - three interlocking gold lines atop a cluster of leaves affixed to a blue-green background.

She had no weapons, but she was carrying a small tray covered with a white cloth.

“I’m not sure,” I answered. “Someone I didn’t want to throttle for selling me out and leading me into a trap, perhaps?”

“That’s not exactly how it happened, Finn. I had a job to do, and you were only a small part of that. Did you think we were friends, and even if we were; did you think I would betray my own people?”

“I thought we were a team,” I said. “I trusted you. I chose to trust you despite having every reason not to. I risked my life fighting beside you, so yes – I thought we were friends.”

This seemed to affect her, as she took a few moments before she began to answer.

“Finn—”.

“Look, let’s forget it. We’re not a team, you were only following orders. I get it. You’re a soldier, just tell me why you’re here.”

Catayla walked over and took a seat on the cold slab that had failed in every way to resemble a bed or comfortable place to sit. She sat her tray down beside her and looked down at me. I was already sitting on the floor directly across from her.

“Do you know why I’m here…” she waved away my attempt to interrupt. “Please, just listen for a moment. We suspect that you were involved with a group of cultists, traitors that have infiltrated and sabotaged your world.”

“Is this because of the Eye?” I asked. “Sebbit knew I lied about it, I get it. Is that really enough of a reason to keep me in solitary confinement for weeks?”

“Three days, Finn,” she said. “It’s only been three days, and we needed that time to finish our investigation. If you cooperate I believe Se… Captain Xern, will be lenient on you.”

“Three days… that can’t,” I said. “And the others? Tiller, is he okay? Bridgett and Worthy – did everyone make it over the river?”

“Tiller is here, we’ve built a base out of an abandoned Naval vessel,” Catayla said. “The others all survived and have been returned to the human settlement, New Charleston.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad that you helped them. Is Tiller a prisoner too, can I see him?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He’s not a prisoner, but he doesn’t have free reign of the facility, either. He insists on talking with you, but command has decided that all interactions with you are to be limited.”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here, then?” I said. “There isn’t much I can tell you, I’ve only been part of one ‘cult’ and I doubt you’d be interested in anything that went on at St. Mary’s.”

“We know,” she said. “We’ve been tracking and recording you since even before I gave you the disk. We don’t suspect you are in league with the Separatists, but you are connected somehow.”

“Separatists?” I asked. “That sounds an awful lot like an internal matter. Something I, or anyone from Earth, would have nothing to do with.”

“Eat,” she said. “ She uncovered the tray beside her and revealed a small loaf of bread, small red berries, and a glass of a golden-brown liquid. “Afterwards, you can tell me everything you know, and we’ll both have to trust that my superiors will know what to do.”

“Is that…” I asked while staring at the tray.

“Sweet tea,” she answered. “Tiller mentioned it was something of a favorite of yours.”

“Well you catch more bees with carrots,” I said. “Or was it the stick?”

***

The door slid closed behind Catayla, leaving me alone once more.

I thought back over our conversation. We had spoken for several hours, and I’d held almost nothing back. The only secret I’d kept to myself was the existence of the mental space that the companion occupied, and its ability to speak with me there.

She hadn’t answered any more of my questions about the cultists or Separatists, but I was somehow certain that they were connected. The thought scared me more than I can explain. If the event that had destroyed Charleston was not random chance, but instead something engineered, then the implications were terrifying.

Could eldritch abominations and planet devouring Elder Gods simply be summoned like an Uber? Why would such beings even care about what lowly humans did? We were nothing but ants scurrying over a pebble in their eyes.

I had told Catayla everything that had happened since seeing the burning eye. I told her about waking up, unharmed, in a puddle of my own blood all the way up to my battle with the Tartarus Grass. She already knew most of it, but she still made me recount every second of it in clear detail.

She brought up my companion on several instances and would ask about our connection. She seemed particularly concerned with how we communicated and if I shared its memories. We also spent at least an hour going over my actions on the days leading up to Eldritch Night, but I couldn’t imagine how anyone I knew could be part of some intergalactic cult.

The most interesting part of our conversations was not anything Catayla had said, but something I discovered on my own. During the entire interrogation the cell door had remained opened, no doubt a tactic to make me feel more relaxed. Not only did this allow the sweet smell of unfiltered air into my room but it also brought with it small amounts of something else.

I could no longer see it, but I recognized the familiar texture. It was faint, almost non-existent, but it was there. As I focused I found small traces of the energy everywhere. It was in the air, and in the food I ate. It clung to Catayla in a thin sheen that was gradually thinning as the energy was absorbed.

I breathed it in and I could feel it invigorating me. It was a subtle change, but very real. I reached out and gathered as much of the energy as I could, being certain not to touch the energy surrounding Catayla.

I had no reason to think she would detect the change, but I had no idea what skills or technology the peacekeepers had. I kept this process up for the rest of the conversation, slowly gathering small trickles of the energy into my closed right hand.

After Catayla had left I held out my fist and slowly opened my hand. Resting in the center of my palm was a small sphere no larger than a marble – a marble made of pure eldritch energy.