Whisper and White woke up in a void. It wasn't the familiar White Void they knew, but a realm of complete emptiness. The only indication that they weren't alone was each other's presence.

"Andromeda!" White called out. Unfortunately, there was no response.

"Did she lose consciousness?" Whisper asked.

White shook her head. "No, it doesn't feel like that. But do you feel that?" Whisper nodded, hand to head, uncertain about what exactly it was.

"That's because you are no longer connected to your host," a voice emerged from the darkness. Both of them turned in shock to see the indistinct form of a person before them. Their features seemed to shift and twist, making it impossible to discern their identity. Even its voice lacked clarity, yet it was discernible.

"Who are you?" White inquired.

"Me? Oh, I am insignificant. It is the one I represent that holds importance," The Voice replied. "I am The Voice of Archeops, speaking on behalf of one who communicates in tongues unfamiliar to you."

"What do you want, and why can't I sense Andromeda? What have you done?" White interrogated, pointing her finger at the trembling figure in front of her.

"I have done nothing. I am merely the conduit through which my patron speaks. The same patron takes great interest in the well-being and continued existence of the individual previously known as 'Andromeda Noelle'," The Voice explained. White blinked, then leveled a suspicious gaze at the being before her.

"Previously?" White questioned, her eyes widening. "You're referring to The Arch."

The formless voice smiled and shook its head.

"You are astute; that much is evident. Had you been different, it might have been regrettable that your existence hangs in the balance," The Voice admitted.

White found the phrasing unsettling. "Then what am I? Since you seem to know so well," Whisper asked.

"Ah, that is the question. Ordinarily, when touched by my patron as you both have been, beings such as yourselves would be instantly annihilated," The Voice disclosed.

"You haven't answered my question," White insisted.

"Very well, I shall be more explicit. Both of you are aberrant beings, a blemish on what might be considered a pure soul," the being declared. "However, it appears that the subject of your attachment has grown fond of you. It is not in my patron's nature to defy the will of its followers, so you have been granted a single opportunity to prove your worth."

The Voice did nothing to hide its disdain for both of them, but lacking an alternative, they quietly agreed to go along for now. "What do you want us to do?" White asked.

"All I ask of you is to speak in your defense. Whatever you feel may be prudent to include about yourself and your connection to the follower Andromeda is allowed. Be careful what you say, as it may be your existence on the line," The Voice said.

White and Whisper looked at each other, and without a word, decided that White should go first.

"Fine, I'll play your game," White said. "I record everything she thinks or feels, I talk to her when she needs someone to talk to. If she loses her mind or control of her body, I keep her moving."

"You claim such things, but you provide nothing to prove your worth. All you 'do' is a result of what has been given to you. The one previously known as Andromeda could and can do the same. As for companionship, she is not lacking in that regard," The Voice said.

"What about when I'm in control? I can cause everything around her, including myself, to heal or repair. Andromeda can't do either of those without effort or pain," White countered.

"It is her own flesh and her own mind. Do you think she is incapable of what you are?" The Voice said.

"I…" Whisper stumbled.

"In truth, you are a parasite that has fallen to the lowest depths of depravity. You view yourself as more than your lowly existence and elevate yourself to the position of a companion. You have deluded yourself into thinking that you not only don't harm her, but also assist her," The Voice stated.

"No!" Whisper protested. As White looked at her, she saw a look of anger on Whisper's face, something she had not seen before.

"Oh?" The Voice said. "Do go on. I am here to listen, after all."

"You're wrong. A parasite doesn't care about its host. They don't do anything besides feed on it. I know White has never once thought of Andromeda as anything less than her whole world. She doesn't just think she helps Andromeda; she makes it her entire life's work!" Whisper said. "If you think that she is a parasite, then you don't know what that word means!"

Her tone was pointed, and her emphasis made it clear what she meant by that. The Voice paused to consider.

"You speak from the heart, and I believe there is worth in your words. But there is still the matter of yourself," The Voice said. "Unlike this one, you are not a result of a bad circumstance. You intended to kill and devour the soul of Andromeda Noelle. This, by itself, is a grave sin, as her soul is sacred to those who might see it one day. Perhaps I was too quick to state who was truly the parasite between the two of you."

This time, White was the one to interject.

"You… shut… your mouth," White said, her voice as frigid and furious as a blizzard. Each word was so restrained that a lesser being might feel their heart stop at its sound. "She is every bit as important as I am. If you have any reservations about putting me down, then it should be crystal clear regarding her."

"Be that as it may, it doesn't change the fact that her own sins weigh on Andromeda as well. If she were to be removed, it would instantly solve the current situation she suffers from. A history of terrible thoughts that are not her own, torturing her for no reason beyond saving one that harmed her in the past."

White went to speak again, but her words caught in her mouth. She didn't know what to say. While her heart fought against the idea, she couldn't find the words to argue against them.

Then Whisper stepped forward.

"Can… Can you help her?" Whisper asked.

"How do you mean?" The Voice said.

"If you got rid of me and broke our connection, would she be safe? Could she go on?" Whisper asked.

"Whisper, no…" White said.

Whisper turned to White and shook her head softly. "White, please, if I can do something to make the pain go away, I'll do it," Whisper said.

"Yes, I believe that if you were removed, the current struggles might be gone. Though to say for certain is impossible, such is the unique circumstance of Andromeda Noelle," The Voice said.

As Whisper reached her hand forward and the androgynous hand of The Voice reached theirs, an idea flashed in White's mind.

"Wait, I need you to tell me something," White interjected. This shocked both The Voice and Whisper, but White pushed herself between them.

"What is your question?" The Voice asked.

White presented her hand. "Do you know what this is?" she said, raising her hand and presenting it to The Voice. The flesh-tone tips of her fingers were clearly visible against the near-ghostly visage of the rest of her body.

"I can't say I do, though I know it is the same kind of situation as with Andromeda Noelle. Fingers of a different shade," The Voice said.

"So you admit that there are things you do not understand about Andromeda?" White asked.

"White, what are you doing?" Whisper said. White looked Whisper in the eye, and with just a look, Whisper backed away. Not out of fear or confusion, but because she had an idea of what was about to happen.

"No being, no matter how powerful, is aware of the whole breadth of reality, let alone servants of that being. What is your point?" The Voice asked.

"I do, they are the connection that Andromeda and I share. A promise written in flesh that we will remain partners for the rest of time. These were her own words to me, and you likely know that if you know the rest of this," White explained.

"She has said as much, I am aware, but I still don't understand your point. You are already in consideration. What does this have to do with that one?" The Voice asked.

"It proves that you don't know what you're talking about. If you got rid of me, you'd be forcing her to break a promise. If you don't want to go against the will of your followers, you won't get rid of me."

The Voice frowned, but considering its amorphous state, it was more like an annoyed shift in form.

"Fine, this is a matter that can be established later. But until such a time, you will remain. But that still does not explain how this relates to the other," The Voice said.

White turned to Whisper and grabbed her hand.

"Whisper, I know that when we first met, I did everything just short of torturing you. I didn't give you a chance, and for the longest time, I didn't trust you. Even though I could see Andromeda's reasoning, I couldn't accept it. But when I heard your memories from your own mouth, I got the real view of you. You deserve to live, and I'm willing to do anything to make sure of that," White said.

"White…" Whisper said softly.

"I haven't said it before, but I will now. You are my sister, just as Andromeda is. Even if I forgot you, and all the bad memories went away, I wouldn't be the same. A part of me would be lost, and I'd never be the same. So please, don't go. Forget Andromeda for just a moment, and think of me and you. Could you live with the thought that we wouldn't remember you?" White asked.

"I… I don't…" Whisper stammered. White didn't wait for an answer.

"Whisper, I want to do something, but you may not like it, and if it's really how you feel, I won't ask twice."

"What?" Whisper said, tears filling her eyes, unsure how to feel in that moment.

"You bonded your soul with Andromeda. She did that because she couldn't think of any way to save you other than to give you a reason to live beyond your hunger. I want to do something similar," White said. "I want to give you a reason to live beyond Andromeda."

"Beyond her?" Whisper asked.

"We both love her, and I think we can agree that if it came to it, we'd put her before ourselves. I want to give both of us a reason to live, even without her," White said. Then White's idea dawned on Whisper.

"You want to bond our souls together too?" Whisper asked.

"Only if you want," White said. Then, with a click of its hypothetical tongue, The Voice made its presence clear again.

"You realize that doing so might risk your own safety. I have considered you only as you are now. A change in your being might result in a change of judgment. Do you understand?" The Voice said.

White turned to the being before her with hate in her eyes. "I don't care what you say, there is no world where one of us goes and the other one doesn't. So I don't even want to take the chance. If that's too much for you, then deal with it," White said. She turned back to Whisper. "Please."

Whisper wiped the tears in her eyes away. "You and Andromeda really are the same… Worrying about someone who doesn't deserve it," Whisper said with a smile. Then they put their hands together.

"That's what family does," White said, her tone softening as she squeezed Whisper's hand reassuringly. "We're in this together, no matter what. And if anyone has a problem with that, then they can take it up with both of us."

The empty void around them filled with something that could not be called light. It was something that could not be put into words.

The Voice stepped back, unsure of what was happening. Before its eyes, the two forms of aberrance before it demonstrated something that, for only a single moment, shook the hold of the Arch in its being, revealing the soft underside of the being that it used to be's soul.

Then, all too soon, the Pure Radiance fell away, and the being known as The Voice of Archeops returned to its form as The Voice. But before its eyes were not the same two beings it knew before.

Instead, there was a being possessed of stained white, with a black streak in its hair. To its side was a being of similar substance, stained black with a streak of white in its hair. There was no aberration anymore. Even The Arch could sense this, and as such, its will passed through The Voice.

The being of White spoke first and asked a question.

"Will I stay?" it asked. The Voice felt confused, as if a god itself had just stepped before it and asked a question of no consequence. But the answer remained unchanged.

“Yes…” The Voice said.

“What about my sister?” It asked.

“Yes…” The Voice said. Its words not its own, but instinct.

“Then, can we leave?“ The being before The Voice asked.

The answer was clear.

“Yes.”

-----

Gram sat in his cell, waiting for the evening meal of bread and unseasoned ham that he had grown emotionally attached to when suddenly, violently, the walls of his cell were destroyed. All walls were destroyed, even the wall his bunk was attached to. This sent him plummeting to the floor in shock.

Before he could regain his bearings, he heard the sounds of boots and voices mumbling around him. His first instinct was to think that those on the street outside had come to investigate. But when his arms were grabbed, and he was lifted from the ground, he knew he wasn't that lucky.

"Secure this one," a disturbingly familiar voice sounded. Gram lifted his head to see the face of someone he did not believe was real. Black hair and green eyes. The harder he looked, the more he felt as though he was seeing things. However, there was a sickening feeling about the person as he looked.

Gram tried to step forward, but he was restrained. In his shock and awe, he pulled against their hold and did take a step forward. The person before him, with the face that he couldn’t accept was there, stepped back.

"Do you not recognize me?" Gram asked. The woman remained silent, and a man stepped inside the cell from the outside. He was suddenly thrown back to the days before; this was the same man he had seen running with the blonde young man, the one with the strange attraction he had nearly followed up town.

"We're taking you in to be questioned. Pray we leave you enough of a mind to get that far," he said.

Something in Gram shattered in that moment, and he felt his heart beat in his chest hard enough that he was afraid it might burst. Gram stood up straight, tall enough that the two men on either side had to look up to see his face.

Then with all the force that his muscles could muster, and then some, he threw his arms back. Both men holding on to him flew into the rubble behind him. The woman who stood in front of him floated up into the air, as did the older man Gram recognized, and a small army of men stepped forward.

In that moment, Gram could see nothing but red. Even as the sky above him thundered with storm, he couldn’t see, or hear, or smell anything but red. He charged forward, through the crowd, sending man after man flying. Five, ten, twenty. They kept coming, and he sent them flying. If he had a mind to think with in that moment, he would wonder where this came from, and why now. But all his body could muster was an overwhelming urge to run. So he did.

He burst through the rain-drenched ground. He moved so far and so fast that he could hear the wind in his ears.

This stampede of unknown vitality filled him until he had reached the outskirts of town. Finally, he arrived at what his red-blinded eyes saw was a slab stone in the ground. But before that, there was a hole, not the soft ground that should have been there.

As the red fell from his eyes, he felt a cold burn in his throat. It was only then that his senses had returned enough to know he was screaming. Then all the energy left his body.

Gram fell to his knees, and his senses came back to him.

He sat in front of a grave. An empty one at that. Even the name on the tombstone was carved away.

It didn’t take long before the boots and shouts caught up to him, and he heard the same Voice as he had before. He didn’t know what it said, because before he could parse the words, everything went dark.