Tvorh didn't sputter, for there was no water in this ocean. There were only glowing lights as far as the eye could see.

Blue lights close by.

Green lights in the distance. Angry, but undirected.

Beyond even them, silver lights. Watching. Waiting. Drawing in, shaking free silver stardust.

A blue star as large as the world pulsed, filling up his vision, driving away the rest of the unreal landscape. Do not fear, my consort.

How was this possible? The Tool had hijacked his nervous system, but every record of the Silver Suns Tool declared that it wasn't capable of Synapsis.

Thiyyatt's voice, pleasant and soporific, pulsed from the giant star in front of him. This realm belongs to me now, my low-born, high-blooded consort. All that you can see is under my command. Thiyyatt's light vanished, showing him the starfield again. I will command it to do your bidding as well, my consort.

The stars--the minds of Magi and monsters--drifted in a beautiful random dance before Tvorh's eyes. No, wait--there was a pattern to it, a subtle alignment setting every motion in its place.

Tvorh had never seen such beauty.

Yield yourself to me. Let us be one.

For one aching moment, bodiless Tvorh longed for it to be so.

The stars rushed in, now dancing to a new celestial rhythm, one conducted by Thiyyatt.

Tvorh's mind shattered as he became her, and total ecstasy overwhelmed him. Shreds of an alien life lived in palaces of gold flashed before his eyes too quickly for him to assimilate them.

But the will to power--that was pure and unfiltered, drenching every unique image that assailed his brain.

Tvorh's mind gasped in raw delight, hardly able to contain itself.

Where Ittu and Lunja had failed to control the Magi of their day, Thiyyatt would succeed. Man, Magus, and monster alike, the whole sea of pirouetting stars, would be hers to command.

The whole sea...except for an anomaly on the horizon.

The distant horizon of silver stars was trying to move in accordance with Thiyyatt's new dance, but failing, as though delayed by the speed of light or distorted by parallax.

The silver was pretending, not truly dominated.

And pretense meant a trap.

The realization broke Thiyyatt's control over Tvorh for one fateful second. He pressed all of his battered will into the forefront of his mind and managed to pulse out a single word of defiance. "No."

The pavane of the stars halted, and green and blue alike fell still. All was motionless save for the traitorous silver stars on the horizon--

--and a pair of blue stars drifting nearby. He recognized the mind beneath one of them.

Oralie.

You defy me still, Thiyyatt said. Then she shrieked, a mind-bending non-noise that made him want to cower.

So he fled toward Oralie and her partner. Thiyyatt gave chase, and the other stars scattered.

Tvorh flew for all he was worth. "Oralie!" he pulsed. "I could use your help!"

Her star was weak and pale, but at the sound of her voice its color and its motion perked up. Erus Tvorh. She sounded tired. It has been an age.

Only a few days, my darling, said her partner, and Tvorh recognized the mind of Dorsin beneath its gleaming exterior. Was he still angry at Senrii and him? It didn't seem so. He hardly registered Tvorh's presence.

Has it been? Only a few days...

Tvorh skidded to a stop before them. "Thiyyatt's here. She's gone nuts. She's trying to control everything."

And she was going to be here in just a few seconds.

I am sorry, Oralie said. What is happening here is beyond any of us, and I fear I will be of no further use to you.

Never say that, my darling, Dorsin pulsed. You will always be the one I need.

"You don't understand," Tvorh said. "There's a threat. A huge threat. She's going to awaken it, and... and I don't know. Look." Tvorh pulsed his light out toward the horizon, highlighting the predatory stars still pretending to drift in the waltz that Thiyyatt had frozen.

And highlighting Thiyyatt only seconds away. Her star rushed toward them, glowing with the sort of rage that could only belong to a blue-blood who'd never before known failure.

The thing inside me knows them, Oralie said, her light wan and colorless. It wants me to join them.

"The Symbiont?" Tvorh asked.

The father of the Symbiont. The half-father of us all, Tvorh. Her thoughts broke with misery. I am the new producer of the Symbiont and the new Master-Mind.

This whole situation was crazy, but that revelation was a step beyond anything Tvorh had expected. He stuttered, trying to wrap his head around it.

Half-father, Master-Mind. Maker of the Symbiont, Synaptic relay.

Fight it, my darling, Dorsin said. His light was small but strong, like a short but muscle-bound wrestler. Bind it to your will. If you cannot expel it, integrate it. Make it a part of you instead.

I can't, Dorsin. Oralie's pulsing was mournful. It has beaten me.

Thiyyatt's pulsing lit the dark sea like lightning. You are mine, low-born, high-blooded Tvorh. Mine!

Tvorh wasn't a bloodthirsty fellow, but maybe he should have just killed Thiyyatt off when he'd had the chance. Except that would have condemned all of Gens Nethress to a lifetime of being entrapped in Acerbia, at best; death from the genophage at worst.

This was where it ended, and it couldn't have been any other way. Tvorh couldn't have killed Thiyyatt. Nethress had needed her intact for the anti-genophage stigmata she'd synthesized.

Stigmata...synthesized.

Push back, darling, Dorsin begged. His star pressed against hers as if trying to keep it upright in the black. You can beat this.

Beat this. An act of will.

Synthesizing stigmata.

Integrate it.

"I know the answer!" Tvorh slammed himself into Oralie, pressing into her being with sheer force of will.

Flashes of her life came through. They were weaker than Thiyyatt's experiences had been. She was losing strength rapidly. Tiny shadows of Dorsin's mind danced on the walls of her memory as his star held her up from the other side.

"Princeps," Tvorh flared. "Cover us. Delay Thiyyatt!"

Dorsin's star hesitated only a moment. Then it blinked away like a comet and crashed into Thiyyatt's.

He trusted Tvorh.

He trusted Tvorh.

Tvorh had a family.

Some were blood: his mother, his sisters. Some were masters: Dorsin and Oralie. Some were friends: Piotr and Senrii and...Aoife.

Friends...

Aoife.

And more than friends.

This whole time that he'd been fighting to prove himself, he'd had nothing to prove. They would never have let him stumble. They would never have let him fall. They would never cast him out.

Hrega and Bilr would always be safe.

The thought revitalized him, and his star flared with sudden strength.

"Let me in," he hummed to Oralie. "Let me help."

Her star relaxed into him, and he forced his strength of will into her.

Dorsin's star flared a short distance away as his mind fought Thiyyatt's. He didn't have long. Her will would overwhelm his sooner rather than later.

"Stay upright," Tvorh said. "Don't give up on me."

Oralie's star shone more brightly in silent, exhausted agreement, all except for a silver nodule deep within its gleaming layers. As Tvorh's thoughts twitched in its direction, Oralie's mind concurred instantaneously.

That silver mass was the half-father, the ur-STIGMOS that produced the SOPHIOS, the distributed being with a mind of its own. Now that he could see it, he noticed its tendrils everywhere in Oralie's star, discoloring her like a cloudy mother of vinegar, like a spreading infection.

Tvorh plunged his mind into the ur-STIGMOS, and alien memories assailed his senses.

Purple plants twisting to capture invisible spectra.

The terrible scent of sulfur belching from whole ranges of volcanoes, covering skies in black clouds.

And an empty sky, distinct from those ash-filled heavens, with two suns burning over a long-dead silver desert. The birthplace of the SOPHIOS, many millennia and many stars distant.

Tvorh fought the bizarre visions down and grasped the xenokaryotic genes of the Symbiont with one mind-hand.

He took Oralie's genes in the other.

Then he twisted and rearranged. His thoughts flittered over the possibilities and permutations. Trillions of base pairs danced through his mind, taunting him with uncountable permutations.

The options were too many.

Tvorh's attention wavered, overwhelmed. He couldn't do this. He simply didn't have the knowledge or the strength.

A warcry emanated from the bright blob where Dorsin's will clashed with Thiyyatt's. He was losing.

"Oralie," Tvorh said, staring in dismay at the universe of possible changes before him, "I'm not able to do this alone. I'm sorry."

Oralie pulsed sad understanding. You are a good boy, Tvorh.

If Tvorh had had eyes, either in this place or in the real world, perhaps tears would have sprung to them at the sound of Oralie's motherly compassion. Tvorh wasn't even her son, and yet--

Her son.

Tvorh couldn't do this alone, but he didn't have to. He had everything he needed, and he had Thiyyatt to thank for that.

Tvorh turned his attention outward toward the star-studded sea of chaos. Summoning up all of his strength, he cried out with a voice that echoed in the black. "Mother, I need you!"

***

"Reallocating mental processes toward Thunderhammer cannon," Meghan murmured, her distributed consciousness passing through the labyrinth of nerves and discrete synaptic collections of the primary Tool that criss-crossed the libraratory.

The Tool gave its assent, not in words but in feeling. In the years that she had spent in this place, Meghan had never once felt it disagree with her. Still, she was the auxiliary processing unit, and it was her place to ask permission.

"Distributing power to sensors. Comms on-nerve. Routing messages from Acerbia perimeter defenses to command center."

The enemy skywhales floated just out of range of the guns, and the Thunderhammer was currently configured for drop-pods, not mines; it wouldn't be able to hit them until it was reconfigured. They were in a standoff.

When the skywhales came, though, Meghan would be prepared for their bombardment. She would not let them hurt her babies.

Hearing complaints from the inquirers in her halls at the loss of power, Meghan activated her chordal units. "Attention. All nonessential libraratory activities are suspended until the airspace is clear. Nonmilitary personnel, please remain in shelter."

It wasn't her place to give commands to Gens Nethress, but they were her son's family. They cared for him, so she cared for them. She didn't wish harm to come to them. Meghan opened the doors into the shelters and the command areas.

Or she tried to. They didn't respond.

She could feel the nerves and the muscles of her extended body, but none of them were willing to move. Why not? What was going on?

She heard voices via the aural units scattered throughout her rooms and recognized Dux Venkas's speech. "Why can't I move? Are you feeling this, Lynce?"

Lynce was Dux Venkas's primary Tutela. "No, Dux. I’m fine."

A chorus of other voices arose.

"I think I can pick up that pen."

"A gas?"

"No, I can move. If we were all being gassed, I'd be stuck like you."

"It must be another genophage attack from those Nxtlu bastards. First that lie-filled transmission, now this?"

Meghan's muscles might not have been working properly, but her mind was as sharp as ever. She cataloged every word, every speaker. In just a few moments, she realized that there was a pattern to their paralysis. Magi were completely shut down. Half-Bound engineers, the purplebloods, could only move with difficulty. Redbloods and mere Stigmatized individuals were unaffected.

How far did the effects reach? Since Meghan's nerves had been guided into the Palace of Governance, she decided to start there.

Ductrix Lenaa was in the palace's command chamber, surrounded by much of the Nethress Comitatus, brothers and sisters, nephews and cousins. She sat stiffly at the table, her hands placed palm down on it. Graphene screens covered its surfaces, and there was a physical map showing the disposition of the enemy fleet near the table's center.

Meghan spoke from the chordal units in the mass of nerves bulging from the middle of the chitinous table. "Maga Ductrix Lenaa, this is the Libraratory Tool. My physical systems are experiencing an anomaly."

Lenaa's speech was even dryer than usual. "I am happy to hear from you, Meghan, but disappointed regarding the anomaly. Your muscles aren't working, are they?"

"No, Maga Ductrix. The affliction seems to be affecting only the Bound."

"Yes. We gathered." Lenaa's eyes flicked through the room at her family members and the frightened aides-de-camp. "My Symbiont is being stubborn. Do you think this is an attack by Nxtlu?"

Meghan sent her consciousness into the shortsphere receivers near the perimeter. Most of the enemy fleets were engaging in good security, and she couldn't listen in on their conversations. After a few milliseconds, however, she found one ship transmitting indiscriminately, probably a sign of an inexperienced junior officer on the bridge.

It was a Nxtlu vessel. The poor boy; the captain would surely have his head if he knew.

Meghan listened in on the conversation on the bridge, filtering out the background noise, and quickly heard what she was seeking.

A frightened voice said, "What are your orders, captain? It's an act of aggression. Should we proceed to positions and bombard them?"

As if through jaws welded shut, someone said, "I'll press the button myself, once the bloody beasts set me free!"

Meghan spun her mind back into Lenaa's conference room. "The enemy fleet seems to be suffering the effects as well."

"A relief," Lenaa said through involuntarily-gritted teeth.

Indeed, though Meghan couldn't think of anything that would cause Magi dozens of miles apart to be paralyzed simultaneously. "Yes. I will try to coordinate. Only give me a few minutes, and--"

A scream shattered Meghan's attention. She heard it not with any aural unit either in the libraratory or the Palace of Governance, but within her very soul. Mother, I need you!

Tvorh!

A black pit swirled open like a whirlpool in her consciousness. On this side, where her nerves sprawled through the city, the libraratory's control systems waited to take her commands. On the other side, a star-studded darkness that was somehow familiar awaited.

It beckoned to her.

She drifted toward the darkness without meaning to, but Meghan's thoughts paused at the edge of the pit. Was she really considering tumbling in? It made no sense. Vague senses of familiarity were no reason to fling oneself into emptiness, especially not when her people needed her.

But when two gleaming blue stars came staggering through the darkness toward her, and one of them pulsed again, Mother, please!--

Well, that was reason enough.

"Meghan?" Lenaa asked. "Are you there? What do you see?"

Meghan had done everything she could for her dear twins. Now her boy, wandering in the abyss, called for her. Needed her.

"Forgive me, Maga Ductrix. I'll return."

"Meghan, wait!"

"I'm coming, Tvorh," Meghan called into the pit of frozen stars.

Then she let the darkness swallow up her mind.