"So, uh ... how long have you been friends with Niles?"

"Oh, it's been a few years." Quix adjusted Val's positioning, moving his arms out to his sides and making sure he kept them from moving. "He used to stop in much more often. Nowadays, he mostly just comes to ask for favors."

"Favors?"

"Freelancing as a gun-for-hire isn't the cleanest of jobs. Sometimes I need to repair his armor, other times I'm patching him up ... plasma-bolts can leave some nasty marks." She stepped back from him, nodded when she was satisfied with her work, then scanned him in the same way she had Note.

"And you just ... do it?" Val asked skeptically. "Do you owe him or something?"

"I suppose you could say that," she mumbled, staring intently at the readings on her scanner. The way she spoke made it clear that she wasn't planning on sharing any more details than that. "He said your head was 'screwy'. Mind elaborating?"

He sighed. "Since I woke up two years ago, I've been having ... weird dreams. Mostly nightmares."

"What's in these nightmares?"

"I'm not sure."

"Describe them to me."

He pursed his lips frustratedly, but did as he was asked. "I see ... flashes, I guess. Like strobing lights and images in my head."

"Images? Like pictures? "

"No, they're more like ... experiences. Of places I've never seen before, watching things I don't know the meaning of, but they make me feel ..." He felt his throat drying up as he thought back to the last vision he'd had—the one where he'd blacked out. "Lost. Angry."

She said nothing for a few moments, trying to digest what he was telling her. She turned towards Note, watching from the side, then held up the matrix that the synthoid had given her and studied it closely. "And what about you? Do you have these same 'experiences'?"

Note hesitated. "I'm not sure that's what I'd call them, but ... yes. Sometimes."

"Then what would you call them?"

"I don't know." Note's optics narrowed as she concentrated. "Remnants, I guess."

"Remnants?"

"I know that I was entirely wiped of my memory," Note explained. "Whoever I was before, they don't exist anymore—and yet, I can still feel bits and pieces of them inside me. It's like ..." She struggled to adequately describe it. "It's like seeing through the eyes of a ghost."

Quix tilted her head. "And what does this ghost see?"

Note thought for a few moments. "There's ... there's something I remember from a while back. I had a vision where I was running. In it, I'm hurt badly, but I keep running. And I'm trying to reach—"

"A Light."

Both Note and Quix snapped their heads around to stare at Val, his own eyes wide with shock. Just as Note had prepared to answer, the tiniest glimmer of recognition had shined within his head.

"There's a light," he continued quietly, trying desperately to keep hold of this memory, refusing to let it slip away from him. "Like a sun. One that's disappearing beneath the horizon. I'm hurt, and bleeding, and ... afraid. I'm trying to reach it before it's gone—"

"But there's a shadow," Note cut in, her optics boring into him. Quix's gaze alternated between the two intermittently as she silently observed the exchange. "There's a shadow chasing me. It calls to me from behind, whispering in my head—"

"Then it catches me, dragging me towards it."

"And when I scream—"

"—it screams back," he finished, the hairs on his neck rising.

He and Note stared at one another in silence, both of them stunned at what had just transpired. It was only when they noticed how quiet it had gotten that they turned to look at the others. Niles and Ten stood against the wall, gaping at the two of them. Quix still had an air of scientific curiosity surrounding her, but it was clear that she was unsettled.

"Okay," Niles said, finally breaking the silence, "I admit, you had me going for a bit there." He clapped his hands slowly together, accentuating each one. "I came this close to thinking that there was some shred of truth to all of this, that creepy synchronization was particularly unnerving."

"You ... you don't believe us?" Val asked, indignation creeping into his voice.

"Are you kidding? You two suddenly start spouting some slag about 'nightmare shadows', and I'm supposed to take you seriously?" the kugraw sneered. "Look, I don't know if you did this all for some kind of joke or if you're just sick in the head, but it's obvious at this point that—"

"If I could just have a moment, please," Quix interrupted, seemingly noticing something. "Can I see your left arm, Val?"

Confused, he obliged and held it out to her. She grabbed his hand with her own, then rotated it to expose the underside of his forearm ... and the Mark of Eden emblazoned on his wrist.

"What the hell?!" Niles yelled, scrambling backwards and away—which wasn't far, as his back was nearly up against the wall to begin with.

"Would you calm down?" Quix scolded, lifting Val's wrist closer to her face for inspection. "You're acting like he's got the Red Wave."

"Don't you know what that is?" Niles hissed at her from off to the side.

"Of course I know what it is!" she shot back, silencing him with a glare. "Shut up and think for a moment—why would he have the Mark burned into his skin? Seems awfully far to go for a joke."

Niles' mouth worked furiously for a few moments as he attempted to give a reasonable answer. Finally, he gave up and swore at the floor.

"Damn it. Damn it!" He paced around the small space that made up Quix's home. "What in the five Planes have we gotten ourselves into?"

The exodeist released Val's hand. "Well, we haven't spontaneously burst into flame yet, so I think it's safe to say we can set aside the superstitious slag—"

"Superstitious? That is the Mark of Eden," Niles spat. "This kid says he's being chased by the Cell, that he's having these insane visions and nightmares, and then you find that and say it's just superstition? Only place you'll see that thing is in the Umbra, and—"

"What did you say?"

Val clung onto the last word of Niles' sentence, instantly recognizing it from Pragley's final instructions. Niles crossed his arms. "I said, the only place anyone's seen the Mark is in the Umbra. If that doesn't spell out that it's a bad omen, I don't know what does."

Note looked between Niles and Quix. "Hang on, what's the Umbra?"

"I'll get to that in a moment," Quix said, looking at Val. "Niles does bring up a valid point. Have you considered that the Cell are after you because you bear the Mark?"

"That's impossible," Ten argued. "He was branded with that by a Sentinel, and it was only after he was abducted by the Cell—"

"A Sentinel?" Quix's tone had changed, once again becoming inquisitive and thick with fascination.

Ten nodded. "It wrapped his wrist in wires, burned the Mark into his skin, then let him go."

"Is this true?" the exodeist asked, turning back to Val.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "There was something else too—after it branded me, it said something about ... the depths."

"Depths?"

He thought back to that day, trying to remember its exact words. "'Don't fear the depths, or you will sink'."

Quix hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the matrix in her hand, over at Note, and finally back to Val. "You claim that you woke up on a Cell ship two years ago with no memory of who you were, correct?"

"Right," Val agreed. "Note was there too—I mean, she was in that thing you're holding, but she was there."

Quix analyzed the matrix again. "Alright. Then you were branded with the Mark by a Sentinel—"

"And that same symbol was on the pod I woke up in," he told her. "I didn't know what it meant at the time, but I recognized it when I saw it again."

She rotated herself around until her back was to the group and began to mutter to herself. "Don't fear the depths, or you will sink ... you will sink? Don't fear ..."

"Sorry, still a little lost here," Note interrupted, raising her hand to grab the others' attention. "What is the Umbra? What does that have to do with Val?"

"The Umbra is a region of the galaxy between Empire and Hegemony space, one that few people dare to enter," Quix answered, spinning back around. "It's essentially a dead-zone. What little life grows there is almost always hostile, and very dangerous. The majority of it is unmapped, a mystery to the rest of Spectra."

"No one's tried to map it out?"

"Oh, they've tried. Ships have gone missing in the Umbra more than every other sector combined, it's given the region somewhat of a cursed reputation. Once you enter, there's no guarantee you'll come back out."

"How is that possible?"

"We're not entirely sure," Quix admitted. "But perhaps there are forces at play that we haven't yet discovered that might explain its unknown properties. We exodeists are relative newcomers to Spectra, we only arrived less than three centuries ago—but we've performed tests, collected readings and data, all to find out why it is so feared. Why, despite both the Empire and the Hegemony competing for territory, neither has dared to establish colonies within its reaches. And unfortunately, there's not much we've been able to learn."

She held up one of her hands, and a holographic image projected from it into the air, a display of the various data she'd mentioned earlier. "As far as we can tell, the only notable difference between the Umbra and the rest of Spectra is a high concentration of residual null energy throughout the entirety of the sector. We don't know why, and we don't know how, but null density in the Umbra is seven point eight times higher than anywhere else in Spectra. As a result, most of the flora and fauna there have adapted to harness null energy as part of their natural physiology."

Quix put away the data. "As to how this relates to you—the only place the Mark of Eden has been found is on a handful of Architect ruins within the Umbra. As a result, many have often perceived that symbol to be a warning from the Architects, an omen to be feared. But if a Sentinel branded you with it ..."

She paused for a few seconds, pondering the implications. Finally, she shook her head in resignation and met his gaze. "I have to say, trying to fit the pieces of this mystery together is ... a challenge, to say the least. But if it's any consolation, I think I can shed some light on these visions you've been having."

Val's eyes widened. "You can?"

She nodded. "Mnemonic synthesis."

He tilted his head to one side, not sure he'd heard right. "Sorry, what?"

"Mnemonic synthesis," she said again, leaning in towards him. "Your dreams and nightmares? Not just dreams—memories." She held up both of her hands and made a motion as though she were meshing them together. "Essentially, you have two sets of memories—one of yourself in the past, and one that began forming two years ago. The memories from before and the ones you're making now, they're merging, you see? Warring for dominance in your head as your mind tries to reconcile the two."

"Memories?" Note repeated confusedly. "Are you saying that ... that what we see—?"

"No, that doesn't mean they're real," Quix cut in. "I wrote a thesis on this concept a while back, actually—I proposed it was possible to convince someone they had lived an entirely different life by implanting them with artificial memories. As living creatures, our personalities are determined by a combination of nature and nurture. Therefore, if you alter the parameters of the environment one remembers growing up in, they can theoretically become a different person."

She pointed at the two of them. "What you two have described to me is like nothing I've ever heard of. My best guess? They're fake memories of lives that were never actually lived, but rather created and imprinted onto you. As to why someone would want to do that?" She shrugged helplessly. "Hard to say, there could be any number of reasons."

"For all we know, 'humans' don't even exist, and you're just an experiment grown in a lab," Niles added nonchalantly.

"What?" Val yelped, his voice filled with alarm.

"My own people created the Vett'iri, so it's possible," Quix admitted, "but that doesn't mean it's the case, or even that it's likely the case—just that you need to keep an open mind."

Val struggled to wrap his mind around this. "So ... so someone put these memories in us, possibly even created us, and then the Cell abducted us ... why?"

"Another good question, and yet another that I don't have the answer to. There's still so much I don't understand—this, for example." She held up the matrix. "It's some type of housing receptacle, almost like a storage device, but unlike any that I've ever seen. Its design doesn't match the technological standards of any known race in Spectra, I don't even know what you'd be able to use it for."

"Are you able to fix it?" Note asked hopefully. "I thought I'd try my hand at it, but haven't been able to get around to it."

The lights on Quix's face formed themselves into a frown as she noticed its poor condition. "Not sure. I'm worried I might damage it further if I try ... but I'll give it my best attempt. At the very least, I think I can fix the casing. Wait here, please!"

Enthusiasm flowing into her once more, Quix darted into the other room with the table and scrap metal atop it. Note glanced over at Val, one of her optics widening while the other narrowed. It seemed that she didn't know how to regard their new acquaintance yet.

He shrugged over the sounds of Quix's tinkering, not yet ready to pass judgment. Sure, the exodeist seemed to perpetually alternate between two states, that of an intellectual genius or a hyperactive eccentric, but she was still willing to help them thus far, and they couldn't exactly turn away allies right now.

Eventually, Quix returned holding the matrix triumphantly in her hand. "There! I took apart the casing, removed anything unsalvageable, repaired what I could, and put it back together. You'd never guess it was broken to begin with!"

Amazingly, the exodeist was right. He could hardly tell which part of the matrix had been fixed, Quix had performed such a seamless repair. The only indication of its previous damage was a slight discoloration of metal where Quix had replaced part of the old casing with a different material. For how quickly she'd accomplished it, the minor cosmetic flaw was worth it.

"Here," she said, extending her hand out to Note so that she could give it back. The synthoid reached out, took hold of it—

Vmmm.

—and nearly dropped it again in shock as the light in its center immediately lit up at her touch, humming as it did. Grasping madly for it in the air, Note managed to grab it again tightly.

Val's jaw dropped in astonishment. The matrix's rose light, dark for over two years now, was glowing as brightly as it had the day he'd woken up. Note stared at him, her expression similar to his own.

Ten stared at it with curiosity, having never seen it active before. Even Niles displayed some amount of interest, tilting his head to get a better look at it. Quix was not so restrained, and had practically shoved her face up next to the thing, desperate to see what it did. "Maker's grace ..."

Note stared at it with uncertainty, apparently unsure of how to react. After two years, she finally held a solid clue to her origin in her hands—and she was scared of what she might find. Would she be satisfied? Disappointed? Left with more questions?

There was only one way to find out.

"I'm going to take a look at what's inside it," she announced to Val with a nod, steeling herself. He swallowed, and reciprocated her nod in silence.

Holding it between her left thumb and forefinger, she flourished her right hand in front of it. That familiar web of magenta strands and orbs appeared, connecting her to the matrix. The beads of light moved and shifted with minute changes in the positioning of her fingers. The others simply watched as the lights danced in front of them, following some unknown choreography that existed only in Note's mind.

After half a minute or so, the light on the matrix blinked three times. Note gasped sharply, and Val's gaze snapped towards her in concern.

"I'm in," she breathed, her optics blinking in the same manner. "There's ... there's ..."

She looked at Val numbly. "There's nothing. It's empty."

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, Niles cleared his throat. "Well, that was rather anticlimactic. Pretty light-show, though."

We are each and all reflections of the gods that made us.

Note felt her spirits deflate just as quickly as they'd risen. This was the closest they'd come to actually learning who they were, the only concrete lead they might have had ... and it was just another dead end. She felt her disappointment quickly bubbling over into frustration, and then anger—anger at the fact that after two years, she had still learned nothing.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. "Damn it all." Without care, she threw the matrix in Val's general direction. He barely managed to catch it, then watched as she walked over to the wall and sat down on the floor, leaning back in apparent resignation.

Val stared down numbly at the chip in his hand, contemplating what to do now. Quix had given them a lot of theories, but no solid answers. The matrix was finally fixed, but had nothing to tell them.

The Umbra. What you're looking for is there. Find the temple, and you'll find the truth.

There was just one option left. He became aware of the small weight he'd forgotten about in his pocket, and he took a deep breath.

"I'm going to the Umbra."

The others all stared at him where he stood, one arm crossed and one holding the matrix up in front of him. He pulled his eyes away from it, meeting their gazes.

"I must have misheard you," Niles began, his voice full of incredulity, "because I'm pretty sure you just said you want to go to the Umbra? The place that has death written all over it?"

"It's the only lead we have left," Val said. "You said it yourself, it's the only place in Spectra anyone's seen the Mark."

Most of them still seemed unconvinced. He sighed heavily, and turned to Ten, his face becoming pained. "I found Prag in the fire. He ... he was trapped. There was a bar of wood, and it ... it ..."

Ten's eyes began to well up with tears. He felt a lump building in his throat. "I tried to save him, but he told me to leave. To find the temple he found on that moon. He said it was in the Umbra, and that ... that I'd find the truth there. And he gave me this."

With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the object that Prag had given him, looking at it for the first time. It was a white marble-sized sphere with a number of fractal etchings engraved into its surface.

Niles cocked his head upon seeing it. "That's a Nav orb."

"A what?"

"A Nav orb," the mercenary explained. "They record and store navigational information from a ship's database. Flight paths, coordinates, those sorts of things. Cartographers use them to chart less-traveled sectors of space."

"That's it," he breathed. "That's why he gave me this—it has to have information on the moon he told us about."