“You look like you’ve been having one of these dreams again, En,” said Sergeant Nelson, his right hand trying to create a perfect snowball. He was trying to model it on the snowmen that surrounded a lecturer’s tent, but he hadn’t succeeded so far.

Gemini grunted in assent, his free hand also trying to mould a snowball. Little crude snowmen made out of two snowballs stacked on each other dotted the ground around them, which was a sight for sore eyes when placed beside the masterpieces dotting the otherworlder’s tent. The otherworlder’s sister, in particular, was inordinately skilled at making snow sculptures, and Gemini had little doubt that she would have been famous if she was on Earth.

After a moment of silence, one in which Gemini completed another little snowman (who was decidedly slimmer now), he said, “It’s not so bad now. I kept avoiding it, but now that I’ve began to confront the consequences of my deeds, my mind isn’t as burdened as before. The act of killing blights a soul, and if you cover it up through claims like ‘for the greater good’, the blight festers and burns.”

“Philosophical, eh?” Nelson’s eyes turned hollow for a moment. “I still can feel it, you know. The taste of blood and flesh, still fresh on my tongue. They never let me have a choice, and I could only watch as they slowly killed themselves.”

Gemini patted Nelson’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Don’t lose yourself. You’ve answered their last requests, after all. Just take a slow breath now…everything’s going to be alright. You’ve done your best.”

“Maybe,” Nelson replied dully. With a visible effort, the mouse-type beastfolk roused himself from his thoughts. “Anyway, this…auction is really popular, isn’t it? Everyone’s ran off to the Sheltered Duelling Grounds now. The others also went to join them too…”

“Well,” said Gemini, “it’s not like we didn’t get anything from exchanging shifts with them. We’ll have better food for the next few days or so, after all. Besides, we don’t have enough points to get anything in the first place.”

“Fwah. How pragmatic. You don’t feel like a rabbit-type in that sense.” Nelson scraped off some snow from the sphere he’d formed. “Where did your romanticism go off to?”

“Died in the war, presumably.” Gemini picked up another handful of snow and started moulding it. It wasn’t like that was against the rules, since a sentry was rarely called upon for help in the camp. There were other teams of guards patrolling closer towards the Sheltered Duelling Grounds, where they could watch a piece of the action, but it was unlikely that anything even resembling robbery or extortion would occur in Heritage Basestation.

Besides, this place was the home of many a senator and Paragon. A simple shout for help would suffice to bring down any robber or murderer, and everyone here had compelling enough reasons to be neither of the above. In other words, sentries here were glorified paperweights whose main job was to create lovely little snowmen.

Or so Nelson said anyway, but Gemini had no reason to dispute his words. After all, the little lecturer’s tent was always a joy to see, and the leader of Basestation Guard had hinted the compelling need to create more little snowmen around the place. ‘Children at heart’ was something that could be used to describe the beastfolk as a whole, their individual characteristics aside.

“Looks like the auction’s first half has concluded.” Nelson, having sniffed the air, thus concluded. “They’re bringing out some food…if there are leftovers, maybe we’ll get to try them.”

Gemini licked his lips. There was something that made the food at Heritage Basestation more delicious than the food he had at Empyria and as a guest of honour at the camps he visited. Maybe it was his abstinence from killing in the recent days, but he found the food here so much more flavourful.

Or maybe, it was the absence of the Human God’s powers here. It was possible that whatever power that had blunted the emotions and sensations while he was massacring entire troops of men had also dulled his ability to enjoy his food and the other luxuries of life. Gemini had the feeling that the latter was actually hitting the mark closer than he would like to admit.

And besides, it also meant that the other Constellations were probably feeling the same emotions as he did around this time. He’d managed to get something that passed for rehabilitation in this camp, but it was highly doubtful that the other Constellations had such a service that they could access. Some of them may even have went past a point of no return, depending on how resilient their mind was and how much killing they did.

He harboured no illusions about the effects of killing, especially on people who came from modern society.

“There should be leftovers, I guess,” said Gemini. “After all, people don’t eat too much at social functions like an auction.”

“I can’t wa—” Nelson’s voice choked up as a coercive might swept the area.

Gemini narrowed his eyes in response; that presence belonged to someone he had faced a few weeks ago, the Paragon Ortega. His muscles quivered as tension set in, causing the snowball in his hand to burst apart.

The Paragon’s presence continued to press down on the entire camp for another moment, and then retracted like a turtle’s head. Gemini was a bit bemused by the fact that even such a personage had joined the auction, but this line of thought was ended abruptly by an even more familiar presence.

Nox. The Last Star, who had acted as their mission control of sorts, who served as the only person most of the Constellations interacted with as they embarked on dangerous missions and quests. In a sense, he had been their leader of sorts.

“Boss…” Gemini murmured. If he willed it, it was possible that Nox would bring Gemini along with him, to the surface of Orb where he would most likely return to his main body. After finding a slightly elevated patch of ground to place Nelson on, Gemini kneaded his forehead lightly.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Gemini knew that the words that had just been exchanged will undoubtedly be repeated over and over in the canteen. Gazing at the third Paragon arriving on the scene, the former hero squatted down beside the quivering Nelson, and watched as their conversation unfolded. No matter how much he worried for the others, everything would be for naught if the Human God gained control over his will and sensations again.

There had to be something else he could do without his effort being detected and he himself rendered powerless in the first day or two. If he could not ensure the integrity of his own will, he would not leave the Intersection until such time that he could.

He murmured a silent goodbye to Nox as he descended to the ground with another Paragon.