Dorian felt oddly calm as he was shunted into the void in chains, a small legion of Empyreans clustered about him. His body was brimming with energy but his mind was crisp and still. The world filtered in clear, sharp, bright. He felt in control, somehow. Despite the preponderance of evidence otherwise.

They emerged at a windowless cell, equipped with a grand total of one bench. Nothing else. A holding cell. Impossible to tell where, but he suspected they were in the Royal Palace—perhaps in its dungeons? Traces of qi—the good stuff, the stuff that trailed great treasures or great warriors—trickled down from above. Maybe… just maybe…

There was a jolt in his back, and he found himself sprawled on the floor. He’d been kicked. Above, upside-down, was the face of the First Princess of Ur.

“Is this the part where you beat me up?”

“Someone else has requested the first crack at you,” she sneered. She turned to her men. “Lock the cage! Bar the doors! No-one comes in or out without my say!”

“Yes, Princess!” they bellowed.

And then he was left alone, hands and feet bound with qi-suppression cuffs. Awaiting judgment, or salvation.

He kicked up his feet, found the most comfortable posture he could on the too-short bench—which was still not very comfortable at all—and sighed.

***

Kaya was a damned mess.

She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to do. She stood now before the door—the door to his cell—hands sweaty, teeth clenched. The guards were starting to look at her funny.

She had to go in. What was she standing here for? Waiting did nothing. She had to see him—she had to know.

Before she could think on it anymore she shoved her way in.

And there he was. Reclining on a tiny prison bench like a king on his throne.

He looked up, took her in, and froze. A blink of surprise.

“Oh. Hey, sis. You’re alive?”

She couldn’t believe it. She gaped. “That’s what you have to say to me?”

And then what he said hit her like whiplash, and suddenly she was furious. “And don’t you dare call me sis!”

Gold boiled hot in her. Gold light washed over the room. And all the while this psycho lay there smirking! Fucking smirking!

She kicked him. He didn’t move to dodge, didn’t so much as flinch. Just let her gold-wreathed foot catch him square in the stomach.

“HMPH!” He gasped. Then he wormed over the side of the bench, gasping and choking. “Fuck—your kick has gotten a hell of a lot stronger—”

She was speechless as propped himself back up. He grinned weakly. “Alright, alright. Kaya, then. Fancy seeing you here, eh? We sure are a long way from the desert—”

“Fuck you.”

“I deserve that.” He winced, massaging his ribs. “It is nice to see you’re still alive and kicking. Excuse the pun.”

She didn’t know what to think. She thought meeting him would give her a better idea. In her head Dorian was this unfathomable thing, this ancient giant—she figured speaking to him would be like speaking to some alien spirit. Far beyond her comprehension.

But he sounded… just like her brother.

“Dorian,” she forged on, voice a little brittle. “That’s your real name.”

“Guilty.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She’d dreamt of this moment. She’d rehearsed dozens of back-and-forths in her head. But somehow now that he was here, in front of her, she didn’t know what to say. What to do. Where had her anger gone? He wasn’t supposed to sound like this. Smile like this. Act like this.

Why wasn’t she angry? It was so easy, looking at that disturbingly familiar laid-back smirk, to forget who he really was. She had plenty of reason to be mad—plenty of godsdamned reason!

“You took my brother from me,” she began. “You took my tribe from me! If it weren’t for you I’d still have my life! But now I’m fucking here, with nothing! Because of you!”

There was that old reliable anger, finally sparked to life, boiling hotter and hotter—

“Woah there! In my defense!” He yelped—yelped!—“I found him pumped full of scorpion venom in a ditch! Kuruk’s doing, I believe. We passed each other in the space between life and death. I had no hand in that.” His eyes were so big, not pleading, just… surprised. She had no reason to believe him.

So why was she hesitating?

“And as for your tribe…” He shrugged. “After what they did to you at the end of the Festival? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life around those folk? They turned on you in a blink!”

He spread his hands helplessly. It was such a human gesture. “Look,” he sighed. “I’ve screwed over a lot of people. In fact I screwed over almost everyone I met on that run.” Then he scratched his head. “Except… I don’t know. Maybe it’s this body’s residual affection? Or maybe I just found you charming. But I always had a soft spot for you. I tried not to screw you. Really.”

“You’re lying!” she snarled.

“Why else would I go back for you, and save you from that Flood Dragon? Or free you from Rust Tribe as they held you hostage? Or help boost you in our time at Azcan? None of these things particularly helped me.” He shrugged. “I’m… not pleased with how things have ended up either, believe me. But I’m not a perfectly rational being, however much I wish I were.”

A soft smile on his lips. “And one of my… call them irrationalities… was you, sis.”

She was speechless. She was trembling. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to hug him. The world wobbled before her throbbing head.

“On that note…how have you been?” said Dorian, a playful glint in his eyes. “Any news? I see you’ve gone over to Jez’s side. Is that how he’s been tracking me?”

“I—” She groaned, massaging her temples. “You’re trying to confuse me. You’re—stop it! Shut up!”

He looked alarmed. Then he mimed sealing his mouth, and held up his hands and waited for her breathing to settle.

“How—” she said, voice still a little ragged. “How are you so unserious? At a time like this? You’re caught! You’ve lost! You’re done!”

“Maybe so.” Dorian reclined further, stretching out on an imaginary pillow. “The thing is—once you’ve done what I do—speed running, that is—this…. eternal recurrence… you see life is a silly thing. None of it is worth taking seriously.”

“Is that how you think of me?” She whispered. “Is that how you think of the people you hurt? Small, insignificant things?” “Truthfully?” And she had to suppress a flinch at the way he looked at her. Big, almost sad eyes. Startlingly earnest. “Yes. But it’s also how I think of my life, sis. There is no life worth taking seriously. Live long enough and you’ll get it. Life is a very small, silly thing. Some people insist on puffing it up with hot air, like a balloon. Fill it with such…banal things… like caring and love. But they don’t realize it’s all pricked just as easily. Like that.” A crisp snap of the fingers.

This was not at all how she’d thought this encounter would go. She stood there, and didn’t know what to do with her hands. “So it’s all a joke to you? All the people you kill? The lives you ruin?”

“It’s more like… none of it really matters. Believe me—sometimes I wish it did. But that simply is not the Multiverse we live in.”

“You really believe that?” She said hoarsely.

He shrugged, and she was utterly out of momentum. She had nothing.

“Is—is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?” She didn’t know where it came from, but she said it.

That got a reaction out of him—a furrow of the brow, hesitation. Almost like a gap in his blasé armor—or was she imagining it? For it was gone in the next instant.

It was gone, and he laughed.

“Oh, silly girl…” He shook his head, shoulders shuddering with mirth. “You can’t actually think I still have a conscience, do you?”

And now she really was out of things to say. They stared at each other, she clenching and unclenching her fists.

“Look,” he said gently, leaning forward. “If you want to hurt me, I understand.” He spread his arms. Closed his eyes.

She took a step back. “You’re a fucking monster!” she snarled, hating the tremble in her voice. And he was. Just… not the kind she’d been expecting.

“Believe me,” he said sadly. “I know.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. The room had gotten chokingly humid, stiflingly hot. Sweat was blurring her eyes. She ran out. And trailing her, a long, slow sigh.

***

As Dorian watched her go he had an epiphany.

He put his finger on it. His soft spot for her, and why he had it. Maybe it was some residue of Io’s feelings. Or maybe it was the same reason he liked Gerard. Or Sun. Maybe he was charmed by people who believed in things. In goodness, in caring, in other people—even when it was so obviously, tragically misguided.

Maybe it was even a little bit of envy.

Interesting.

Crossing his legs, he settled down to chew on the thought. Far above the auction would be underway. By now the most prized goods ought to be up for grabs. Somewhere high up, Gerard was doing his bidding.

Tick…tick…tick…

Far afield the armies of Fate and Jez were marching for a brutal collision. The bombs were planted, the plans set.

It was time.