“Fledge?” Eolh cocked his head to one side, his black feathers standing up with worry.

He blinked at Poire, and cocked his head to the other side in a distinctly avian motion. “Fledge, did something just happen?”

“I saw Sen. I spoke to her.”

“How? I was standing here the whole time. You went up, and touched that thing and started making a weird face.”

“Sen went through the Mirror. She thought she was alone. She went in, intending to die.”

“How could you have talked so much? It was only a moment-”

“She knew me, Eolh,” But the corvani was shaking. his head in disbelief, so Poire pressed harder. “She knew everything about my Cohort. Why I was made. What I am…”

And Poire stopped himself.

I am the end.

No, he couldn’t accept this. There had to be more. Poire turned back to the Mirror, and pressed his open hand against the glass. His vision lurched. He was looking back through the Scar, but the Scar had moved.

Gone was that falling fortress of lights, and the sky filled with strange shapes that moved on their own.

Now, he gazed up from the bottom of a canyon.

Stranger still, he could feel a breeze on his skin, as though he really were standing in the canyon. Poire pulled his hand back, and the breeze stopped, and the vision cleared. He was standing beneath the Mirror again.

In the moment before he touched the Mirror again, Agraneia grunted something under her breath.

Then, Poire was looking into a world of debris clouds, like the shattered remains of a planet floating in vast striations through the void. The clouds were stitched together by strands of ice that dangled for hundreds of miles below (or was that above?), disappearing into the darkness of distance. In the far distance, though it was impossible to say how large or how far, there was a sphere surrounded by mists of Light and glowing strands that were a translucent, glistening pale. Poire had the feeling they were alive. All the strands were slowly funneling into that huge, light-shrouded sphere. He couldn’t tell how long he stared, only that he felt a strange slowing of his senses as he did.

A hand shook his shoulder, hard. “Fledgling. Hey, human. Can you hear me?”

Poire’s hand separated from the Mirror, a sudden chill on his palm, and Poire was once more standing in the present. Mist still lingered around his palm, dissipating into the glow of the Mirror.

“There!” Eolh flapped a wing at Poire, “You did it again. Like you were frozen.”

And Agraneia was shielding her eyes, muttering about how bright it was, so bright.

“She has to be wrong,” Poire said. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

“I don’t know how long she has,” Poire said. He knew he was frantic, but icy fear gripped his heart. What if she’s already dead? What if he had already missed his chance?

There is nothing you can do, she had said.

But Poire wasn’t ready to let go.

“She has to be wrong.”

He touched the Mirror again. A boiling, red star eclipsed his sight, its fiery anger stretching to either end of hte horizon. A brutal heat crackled on his skin, followed by a pressure that made it feel like his skin was rupturing. Poire yanked his hand back from the Mirror, gasping with the pain. The world fell back into place, still warped by the vision of another realm.

Eolh was saying, “-about what? Slow down and tell me what’s happening.”

Poire lifted his hand, intending to touch the Mirror again. He hesitated. He looked back at Eolh, whose brow feathers were wrinkled in deep concern. Yarsi was kneeling on the ground, praying quietly and quickly to herself, repeating some holy phrase to herself. And so was Agraneia.

Wait.

No she wasn’t.

The cyran was on the ground, covering both eyes with her hands completely. Saying nothing, just breathing.

“Agraneia?” Poire called out to her, and when he reached out for her, she seemed to sense it and pulled quickly away.

“I heard her,” Agraneia said, her voice muffled by her hands. She parted her fingers to squint at Poire. “The faces. She was among the faces, and I saw her talking to you, godling.”

The icy fear clutched his heart tighter. “What did you hear?” Poire said.

“Your death will bring ruin to everything.”

Poire shook his head, not because it wasn’t true, but because there was nothing he wanted less. And yet, if Sen was saying it…

Agraneia peered at Poire, still squinting as if she were staring directly into the sun. “You are glowing, godling. I can see I should have never doubted what you are. Your veins are filled with light. I can see that Sen speaks the truth.”

“What?” Eolh shouted, all his feathers raised. “Agraneia, what did you hear?”

But Agraneia was already walking towards Poire, her boots thudding on the metal as approached. “I saw a beam of light, that pierced the heavens above and below. It cleaved through the void itself, tearing open creation. It devoured everything.”

Agraneia towered over Poire, her thick jaw jutting out as she looked down at him. Poire’s armor writhed with the acceleration of his heart.

“I didn’t want this,” Poire said. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“It does not change what you are, godling.”

“I’m doing everything that I can-”

The cyran grabbed his hand, and pressed it to her forehead as she kneeled. “Thank you,” she said. “For giving me a new purpose.”

“You’re thanking me?” Poire felt confusion tinge his sudden alertness.

“I will shed my life to spare yours, godling. You are my purpose, now. You are my salvation.”

“But I’m not-”

“You are you. And if I can help you, I can help everyone. And maybe I can… make up… for what I’ve done.”

Relief and gratitude flooded Poire’s heart. He fell on the ground next to Agraneia, and threw his arms around her. Feeling the biting rough and smoothness of her scales against his skin, feeling her stiffen at his touch. And then, she relaxed and hugged him back.

“Can you still hear her?” Poire asked, pulling back.

Agraneia closed her eyes. Listened. And shook her head.

As far as Poire knew, there were only three people alive who could help him make sense of this. It would take time to find Sen,

and he could not trust the Emperor. Not now. Not when he was so lost.

There was one person he needed to talk to, more than any of them. Will Khadam even believe me? Does she know anything about Sen?

But Poire was slim on options, and he needed…

He needed someone who understood.

How do I contact her?

Last time, she was the one pinging for help. And he had used the Grid to find her. Would something like that work again?”

And what if, in calling for her, she finds out where I am? What if she tries to kill me before I can explain?

I have to do something.

Poire closed his eyes. Felt the whole network of the world rising around him. It lived in the pyramid, the beams, the whole structure of the planet. The size was immense, and the space was so empty.

There were four gates, one at each corner of the pyramid. He used the first one to broadcast a message into the void. There was no telling how long he would have to wait. Perhaps, he could make use of this time. Perhaps he could keep looking for Sen-

Khadam’s voice crackled directly into Poire’s mind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Khadam demanded. “You can’t just broadcast an open signal. You have no idea who could be listening. The Swarm-”

“The Swarm is already here,” Poire said.

“What?” A note of panic in the cold smith’s voice. “Poire, listen to me. You have to get out there. Where are you? Listen, I was wrong about you-”

“I am safe,” Poire said. “The Swarm won’t come near. I think the mist from the Light degrades them. Wait, what do you mean ‘you were wrong?’”

“I found it in the Historian’s library. They keep records of you, of all our visions. You were never our enemy. Poire, I’m so sorry. We were wrong, all of us were wrong when we thought you were trying to destroy us. That’s not why you were created. You were a project, a hidden project and I didn’t know that they were trying to-”

“-to fix the genome,” Poire said. “To save humankind.”

“Yes,” Khadam said, “How did you know?”

“It didn’t work. I’m the last one, and that’s only because they forgot about me.”

“You are not my enemy,” she said again.

So, there was truth to Sen’s words. And somehow, Khadam had come to the same conclusion. But instead of relief, Poire felt an overwhelming sense of dread clawing at his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but it just kept coming back up. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of new truths.

“I know what I am,” Poire said, “Sen told me.”

“Sen is alive? After all these years?”

“She went through the Mirror. I don’t know if she’s alive or not anymore, but I spoke to her and she told me what I am. What I was meant to be. And what I will become when I die.”

“You’re not the Destroyer, Poire. It’s something inside you. Something you were born with-”

“What is the difference?” Poire said. “It is me. I only ever wanted to help, but how can I help when I am the problem? I came all this way because I hoped she would have answers, but she gave up long before I got here. What…” Poire swallowed the emotions that were clawing at his throat, “What am I supposed to do, Khadam?”

A long stretch of silence. Poire checked the connection, and saw that it was still live.

Then, Khadam said, “I don’t know. That’s the truth. But if you’ll let me, I want to find out.”

“I will.”

“Then answer this. What do you want to do, Poire?”

There was no question. The words came out immediately, “I want to save them. All of them. Even you.”

“Good!” Khadam laughed at that, more to let out the pressure than from true joy. “That’s a good start. The first step is important, Poire. Stay alive. OK? Nothing else matters, but you, staying alive right now. Send me your coordinates,” she hesitated. Waiting for him to disagree. “And I promise, I won’t try to kill you.”

She meant it as a joke, but Poire couldn’t find the will to smile.

“Stay alive, and together we can figure this out. OK?”

“Do you believe that?” Poire asked.

“Laykis does.”

“Laykis is with you?” Poire’s heart soared. Some dark part of him had been worried that sending Laykis to Khadam was a death sentence.

“Who do you think answered your signal? Laykis was waiting for your call. She believes in you, Poire. I’ve never seen a construct so dedicated. She… she helped me see, even when I did not want to.”

“Can I talk to her?” Poire asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. There was a tightness in his chest, a leaden weight as heavy as guilt.

A sound rustled through Poire’s mind, and then a mechanical voice, “Divine One.”

Poire sighed, and felt the tightness in his chest relax at her even, clicking tones.

“Laykis. How are you?”

“Imperfect.”

No, Poire thought. You’re exactly as you need to be. A painful smile crept into his lips, and he almost lost his emotions again. “You changed her mind?”

“The Emperor nearly killed her. Khadam chose my reasoning over his. A wise choice.”

“I owe you so much.”

“The burden you carry is more than enough sacrifice. I will never be worthy. Because of you, Divine One, I have been graced by the presence of two gods.”

“Is she kind to you?”

“We are working together. Divine Khadam has grown rather protective of me in a short time. She was confused when she first awoke, as she clung to wrongful beliefs, just as you were. She still does not see the full truth, but I believe we can trust her entirely.”

“Keep her safe, Laykis. I need her help. I am more lost now than I ever was.”

“Divine One, you must not fear your destiny. You are not now what you will become, Oh, Savior Divine.”

Poire could only imagine the intensity of her eyes, burning and bright in the black library. And there was that tightness in his chest again; how he wanted to believe her. But even now, standing so close to the Mirror and the Scar that it contained (however poorly), he could feel it. The raging storm of the Light, burning to escape. Filling him with uncontrollable power that lurked just under his flesh.

Made of Light. Was this why all his caretakers were so hard on him? All but one.

They feared him, even as they tried to grow him into the tool they so desperately needed: a bridge between worlds. And when he failed, time and time again, they grew disgusted with him. Cast him off to the side, to focus on the other members in his Cohort. Only pure luck had brought him all this way.

Sen was right. If anyone could change fate, it would not be him.

“Laykis,” Poire said. “Sen said that my fate is written. That I am destined to destroy everything.”

“I have seen truth,” Lakyis said with such effortless certainty that Poire almost believed her, “No prophecy will ever contain you.”

And then, Khadam’s voice cut back in, “Poire, we have to go. I’ll find a way to reach you, but first I need to get back to Kaya.”

“Why? Where are you?”

“A dam over Cyre. But I can’t stay here. The Emperor is… dangerous. More dangerous than I thought. Do not speak with him. And don’t broadcast your location again.” She paused, and breathed, and said slowly, “Don’t let it get to you. This isn’t your fault.”

“I know.” Poire said, feeling a stab in his chest. A tightening dread.

But it is my burden.

***

“There’s no reason for us to be here anymore,” Eolh was saying. “Sen is dead-”

“-Dying-” Agraneia interrupted.

“-Dying. Whatever. She’s not talking. And there’s no way in hells I’m taking Poire back to Cyre. We have to go to Gaiam.”

The four of them were sitting on a platform that the godling had made from the pyramid. The pyramid obeyed his thoughts as if they were commands, and Poire had summoned this platform from the white metal itself. Now, they were looking down towards the nadir, towards the Mirror and all those sparkling, maddening shapes that lurked and writhed just below the glass.

This was a careful place. Agraneia could feel that. Full of potential for great evil.

Yet Agraneia hadn’t felt this light in such a long time. The godling had given her purpose, once more.

Eolh was asking questions, like he always did. The lassertane child, still in a state of shock, was quiet and had her arms wrapped around her legs. There would be no hope for Yarsi, or any of them, if anything happened to the godling.

But there was still one thing she didn’t understand.

“I don’t understand,” Agra cut in. “Are you not a god? Are gods not immortal?”

“No one is immortal,” the godling said. “Some of us live with bio-rejuvenation techniques, and a mix of implants.”

“But you are … very old.”

“I was frozen. It doesn’t count.”

“Hmmm,” Agraneia grunted, eyeing Poire up and down, thoughtfully.

“Oh, no,” Eolh said when he caught her. “I know what you’re thinking. And we are not freezing him.”

“Why not?”

But Poire was shaking his head, too. “We would need a cold chamber, and a lot of power. And it might attract the Swarm. It’s an option, but…”

“You don’t think it’ll work,” Agraneia finished.

“I don’t know what I am, Agraneia. I don’t know if the people who made me know what I am, either. It’s growing. Now that I’m here, I can feel it inside of me.”

“This thing is alive?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. And the mist, and the Scar down there? All alive?”

“Yes,” the godling said.

“Hm.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Even Eolh was mulling over these changes.

“There is good news,” Eolh said.

Everyone looked at him.

“If he dies, all our problems are over. Right?”

Poire stared at him, dumbfounded. Yarsi, too. Only Agraneia cracked a smile.

“It was a joke,” Eolh said, “Nevermind. I’m going to make food. Dinner. Breakfast. Come on, Yarsi. Gods, I would kill to know what time it is.” Eolh pushed himself up, and muttered about how sick he was of this never-ending day, here at the center of the world. Yarsi was like a drone, following him. A hollow shell.

But she was young. Agraneia hoped the small lassertane would find time to heal. Though I haven’t. And my wounds must be far less than hers. All her people, dead…

And what about the godling?

What about his people?

He looked so worried. His brow furrowed, as he focused on his energy on his own hands. To Agraneia, they were still glowing.

To sit this close to him, it felt different now. More. Agraneia could feel the energy rolling off of him, The spirit of god. Or something. Yearning and reaching out with all the brightness of life. So bright.

They were alone, their legs hanging off the edge of the platform. All that twisting light from the Mirror crawling up the immense sides of the pyramid.

“Agraneia?” the godling asked.

“Hm?”

“I would do it, if I could. If the cold chamber worked, I would put myself under. Forever. I would do it for them,” he nodded at Eolh who was crouched over their knapsacks, handing the last of their food to Yarsi. “I would do it for you.”

“Me?” Agra was taken aback. “I do not matter. I am no god.”

“You might not be human, but you matter to me. You, and Eolh, and Yarsi. Laykis, and Ryke, and… And even Khadam. Sen was alive for thousands of years. Maybe I can, too. But everything is so big. And dark. And impossible.”

Then, Poire turned to face Agraneia. All that liquid armor rippled nervously and weaving over and under his clothes. Always moving. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

He was asking her for something. Looking to her for support.

A god, asking her for help. Why?

Agraneia looked over her shoulder. Eolh was trying to get Yarsi to eat a strip of dried meat, but the lassertane child only held onto it. Almost unresponsive.

Eolh didn’t stop trying.

Beyond, in the slots and jagged angles of the metal blocks that made up the pyramid, a host of faces lurked at the corners of her vision. Some were dark and motionless, their eyes forever shut. Some were watching her, jeering at her in silent tongues. Some, she recognized from old battlefields. Could almost feel her knives sinking into their hearts.

This is why, Agraneia thought. Because I know death better than anyone else here.

“Godling.” Agraneia said.

Poire blinked up at her. His eyes, as brown as burnished clay, focused entirely on her. But for everything he looked like a child, she could not deny the overwhelming sense of energy, rolling off of him. As she could see the faces, she could feel it. Whatever lived inside him.

And she knew she would never comprehend. But she could try.

“On Thrass,” Agraneia continued, “Your corvani friend saved me. Brought me back from the dead. But that was not why I followed him. He was mad, but he knew he was mad. And he believed in his madness. He believed in you. When you are dead, you cannot lose anything. So I followed him, because I wanted to see… if he was right.”

“About what?”

“About you. He said you were different from the gods of my home; all stone and marble and useless. He said you were real.”

“Do you still believe that?”

“You are no full-grown god. Anyone can see this. Look at how small you are,” she nodded at his slender frame, half-covered with the liquid armor. “As someone who knows war, believe me, Poire. You should be dead. On this planet, on Thrass. A hundred times over. But you are not. It is not all luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yours is a different kind of strength. One of the mind,” she tapped him on the head, not too hard. “I think your power may be beyond us all.”

“Not Khadam. Nor Sen.”

“Maybe,” Agraneia grunted. “Maybe.”

Agraneia stood up, stretching her muscles. And felt that Poire’s eyes still followed her. She smiled down at him, “You may be small, and young, and, well, small, yet I will never doubt your will, Poire. Growth takes time. More time than anyone wants it to take. But you are human. If you choose a new path, then the way will open for you.”

Eolh was worried about Yarsi, and Agraneia agreed. The lassertane child was shaking on and off, and uncharacteristically quiet.

“She’s in shock,” Eolh said. But what could they do for her, here?

“I know people who can help her,” Eolh said to Agraneia in private, “Back on Gaiam.”

“I don’t think the godling will want to leave. Not yet.”

“I know, it’s just…”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence. Agraneia understood. This was a place of the gods. A wrong place for mortals like them. In every moment of silence, the voices whispered loud and clear. Agra kept her eyes peeled for any sign of Sen, but she saw nothing in the flowing clouds of mist and all that brightness.

And then, there was Yarsi. When she did speak, the lassertane child only said, “He isn’t done. He has more to do.”

Agra thought Yarsi was talking about all those memories stuck in that device, implanted in her neck. What did she see? But they could not press her. The child was so close, already, to breaking.

There was no night, so they slept in the light. As they bedded down, Eolh rolled over and whispered to Agraneia.

“Starting to think I’m not cut out for this.”

“Oh?”

“You know, I think we had it easier in that prison on Thrass.”

“Hm,” Agraneia grunted, “You wouldn’t have lasted another week.”

“They really hated me, didn’t they?”

Agraneia snorted.

“You’re right,” Eolh said. “But this, I don’t know about this.”

“The godling?”

“Would you have come, if you had known what he is? Would you have come, knowing what you were getting into?”

“Eolh.”

“Hm?”

“I was lost before I met you.”

Eolh crooked his beak to the side, raising an eyebrow at her. “And now?”

“Still lost,” Agraneia put her hands behind her head, stretching and letting out a satisfied sigh, “But I am also alive.”

“Good,” he said. “Good.”

Eolh turned over, and made himself snug in his own gear. Muttering to himself about how is anyone supposed to sleep with all this damn light? Minutes later, all she could hear was his gentle snoring.

And, despite the faces and their laughter and the light, Agraneia dozed off, too.

She was awoken by a buzzing sound, surging over the thrum of the Mirror.

Agraneia’s eyes shot open.

“It’s coming,” Poire said breathlessly. His hand was outstretched. His finger, pointed up.

High above, at the zenith of the inverted pyramid, far beyond the rim, there was a shape the size of a mountain. Its half-shredded body fell toward the pyramid, debris rattling and tearing off its metal bulk.

The mountain construct had followed them. And it was not alone.