The ship was screaming.
Not metaphorically.
Actually screaming.
A wet, shrill sound tore through the corridor as another section of the living vessel split somewhere behind Qaritas.
The floor bucked.
Something organic ruptured inside the wall.
Black fluid sprayed across the ceiling.
The wound immediately attempted to close—
failed—
opened again—
and began leaking something Qaritas sincerely hoped wasn't necessary for keeping them alive.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEE—
Red symbols flashed across the walls.
Qaritas had no idea what most of them meant.
He understood the ones displaying pictures of organs.
Mostly because several were blinking.
One had stopped blinking entirely.
That seemed worse.
"Is that important?"
Xheavend didn't look up.
"Probably."
"Probably?"
Another impact shook the ship.
Qaritas caught himself against the wall.
Xheavend didn't.
She simply shifted her weight slightly and remained standing.
Annoying.
Behind them—
Hstrarkit burned.
The world was shrinking through the enormous translucent membrane along the ship's side, blue-green clouds turning slowly beneath them.
From this distance—
it almost looked peaceful.
Qaritas hated that.
Nothing about that world had been peaceful.
Forests capable of remembering people.
Creatures pretending to be skies.
Mist that could crawl inside memories.
Things large enough to mistake mountains for obstacles.
And now—
scars.
Even from orbit, Qaritas could see them.
Black wounds carved across continents.
Storm systems spiraling around regions where the atmosphere had been damaged.
Fires burned beneath the clouds.
Entire stretches of forest had become dark.
Hstrarkit looked wounded.
But alive.
Still alive.
They had escaped.
Technically.
Qaritas wasn't convinced that meant much anymore.
Because behind them—
Yzer was still coming.
Another tremor passed through the ship.
Xheavend looked toward the membrane.
"He's not stopping."
Qaritas followed her gaze.
Something black was spreading outward from Hstrarkit.
Not smoke.
Not cloud.
It climbed through the upper atmosphere in enormous branching structures, folding over one another as they reached into space.
Yzer.
Or something belonging to him.
Qaritas had stopped attempting to distinguish between those two possibilities.
"Can he reach us?"
Xheavend's expression remained flat.
"Yes."
Wonderful.
Qaritas reached automatically for his weapon.
Then stopped.
Because there was someone else in the room.
Someone who hadn't moved.
Yandaro.
He sat against the far wall.
His knees were drawn toward his chest.
His hands rested between them.
There was blood on his clothing.
Some of it belonged to him.
Most didn't.
Qaritas knew whose it was.
Nobody had cleaned it away.
Nobody had asked him to.
Yandaro hadn't spoken since they left the surface.
Not when the ship launched.
Not when Hstrarkit's gravity fought them.
Not when something struck the hull.
Not when Xheavend nearly fell through a section of floor that had briefly stopped existing.
Nothing.
He simply sat there.
Looking at his hands.
His father was dead.
Qaritas had almost forgotten that.
The realization made something twist beneath his ribs.
Everyone else was escaping Hstrarkit.
Yandaro wasn't.
Part of him was still down there.
Beside his father.
Qaritas opened his mouth.
He didn't know what he intended to say.
Nothing seemed sufficient.
Nothing seemed remotely useful.
Then—
something moved outside.
Qaritas stopped.
At first he thought it was debris.
A massive section of something drifted between them and Hstrarkit.
Dark.
Red.
Jagged.
It rotated slowly against the stars.
Then—
it unfolded.
Qaritas stared.
"...What is that?"
Xheavend looked.
Her face changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"Oh."
Qaritas looked at her.
"Oh?"
Another section unfolded.
No.
Not a section.
A wing.
Qaritas's stomach dropped.
It spread across the stars.
One hundred feet.
Two hundred.
Three hundred.
Still opening.
Nearly four hundred feet from one side to the other.
There were no feathers.
No membrane.
The structure resembled an enormous spiderweb stretched across branching bones—
except the webbing was dark crimson.
Semi-transparent.
Glittering.
Crystallized.
Blood.
Light from Hstrarkit passed through it and fractured into thousands of red reflections.
Qaritas stopped breathing.
The wing shifted.
Something behind it moved.
Something enormous.
Then Qaritas saw the body.
One hundred and ninety-seven feet of it.
Raw muscle.
Not skin covering muscle.
Muscle.
Thick cords of exposed sinew twisted over one another in pulsing layers, held together by scattered patches of dark translucent flesh that looked less like skin and more like something desperately attempting to contain what lay beneath it.
Every movement stretched her anatomy.
Every movement rearranged something.
Shoulders changed shape.
Muscle folded.
Bones shifted beneath exposed tissue.
Nothing about the body appeared finished.
It looked as though creation had stopped halfway through making her—
and Gawi had decided that was sufficient.
Qaritas's gaze climbed higher.
Toward the head.
No eyes.
None.
No sockets.
No closed lids.
No scarred places where eyes had once existed.
Nothing.
Smooth flesh.
And beneath it—
a smile.
Qaritas knew that smile.
Too wide.
Too permanent.
Too deep.
Her mouth opened.
Rows of teeth appeared.
One.
Two.
Three.
More behind them.
More.
More.
Ten rows of long needle-like teeth descended into a mouth that physically should not have contained them.
Qaritas stepped backward.
"...Gawi?"
Xheavend glanced at him.
"You didn't know?"
"No!"
Something moved beneath Gawi.
Qaritas looked down.
Immediately regretted it.
She had no legs.
Not anymore.
Hundreds of enormous cephalopod-like limbs writhed beneath her body.
Some curled around fragments of broken matter.
Others stretched through open space.
Several disappeared into fractures that shouldn't have existed.
Each moved independently.
Searching.
Grasping.
Crushing.
Anchoring.
Her humanoid body had always been disturbing.
Nine—sometimes eleven—feet.
Four arms.
Exposed muscle.
Blood-crystal wings.
No eyes.
Ten rows of teeth.
Qaritas had thought that was Krsangawi.
He had been wrong.
Horribly wrong.
Her familiar body wasn't Gawi made smaller.
It was—
containment.
Something had taken this—
all one hundred and ninety-seven feet of muscle and teeth and wings and hundreds of limbs—
and forced it into a shape capable of standing inside a room.
No.
Not something.
Gawi.
She had forced herself into it.
Qaritas suddenly understood something.
Goro.
The way Goro spoke to her.
Not fear.
Goro did not strike Qaritas as someone particularly talented at fear.
But recognition.
Respect.
The kind given to something whose capabilities didn't require demonstration.
Qaritas had heard the stories.
Krsangawi.
One of six.
One of Eon's commanders.
Servants of the First Evil who had survived things entire universes had not.
Qaritas had always understood that intellectually.
Now—
watching her blot out part of a planet—
he understood it somewhat differently.
Was this it?
Was this the body that had made Krsangawi one of Eon's six commanders?
Then Gawi moved.
And Qaritas realized the body probably had very little to do with it.
She wasn't floating there.
She wasn't showing herself to them.
She wasn't transforming for dramatic effect.
She was busy.
Gawi was still fighting.
Behind her—
Hstrarkit convulsed.
The black structures reaching from its atmosphere struck toward the ship.
Gawi intercepted them.
One of her hundreds of lower limbs snapped outward.
It wrapped around a black structure thicker than the ship.
Pulled.
The structure tore apart.
Not broke.
Tore.
Something screamed across space despite the complete absence of any medium through which sound should have traveled.
Qaritas felt it inside his teeth.
Another black structure emerged.
Then another.
Then—
hundreds.
Yzer's army followed.
Figures poured through ruptures in reality.
Some Qaritas recognized.
Others he absolutely did not.
None reached the ship.
Gawi's wings spread.
The crystallized webbing between the bones glowed dark red.
Space—
stopped behaving properly.
Qaritas watched stars bend around her.
Her wings weren't beating.
They weren't propelling her.
They were holding something.
Anchoring something.
Reality itself seemed pinned beneath those branching bones.
A fracture opened.
Gawi grabbed both edges.
Pulled.
The rupture widened.
An entire formation of Yzer's soldiers disappeared inside it.
She closed her hands.
The fracture snapped shut.
Gone.
Another wave approached.
Three enormous limbs swept through them.
Bodies scattered.
A fourth limb caught one.
A fifth caught another.
A sixth crushed something Qaritas had watched survive Xheavend stabbing it repeatedly.
Gawi didn't even turn toward it.
That was the disturbing part.
She wasn't struggling.
She was working.
Efficiently.
Methodically.
Like someone cleaning a room before leaving.
Something enormous emerged from Hstrarkit's atmosphere.
Yzer's manifested force.
Qaritas couldn't properly understand its shape.
Every time he tried, some portion seemed to become something else.
Hands.
Faces.
Architecture.
Bone.
Eyes.
Black structures layered over one another until the thing occupied far more space than it should.
It reached toward them.
Gawi turned.
Her permanent smile remained unchanged.
Her wings spread wider.
Then—
she hit it.
Space flashed red.
The ship spun.
Qaritas slammed into the wall.
"GAWI!"
Xheavend caught the edge of a doorway.
Another shockwave struck.
Qaritas dragged himself upright.
Outside—
Gawi had driven Yzer backward.
An entire portion of his manifested body had disappeared.
She pursued.
Hundreds of limbs moved simultaneously.
Some wrapped around him.
Some anchored into space.
Others tore through the remnants of his army.
Her enormous mouth opened.
Ten rows of teeth spread.
And something inside that impossible maw—
bit reality.
A section of space vanished.
Yzer went with it.
Not all of him.
Enough.
Qaritas stared.
"...What the hell is she?"
Xheavend considered that.
"Gawi."
"That did not answer anything."
"It answered exactly what you asked."
Qaritas turned toward her.
She wasn't smiling.
But she was close.
Then Qaritas noticed Yandaro again.
He wasn't watching.
Not Gawi.
Not Yzer.
Not the army.
Not the 197-foot nightmare tearing pieces from a Fragment's manifestation.
Yandaro hadn't lifted his head.
Qaritas almost asked why.
Then he remembered.
Of course he wasn't.
There was nothing outside that ship Yandaro wanted to see anymore.
His father wasn't flying beside them.
His father wasn't fighting Yzer.
His father wasn't coming.
Qaritas looked back through the membrane.
Hstrarkit had become smaller.
Yandaro's father had become farther away.
Another blast illuminated the room.
Yandaro didn't flinch.
Qaritas's chest tightened.
Outside—
Gawi stopped.
The remaining soldiers stopped with her.
For several seconds, nothing moved.
Then they retreated.
Not strategically.
Not slowly.
They fled.
Gawi watched them go.
One of her enormous limbs twitched.
Qaritas wondered whether she intended to follow.
Apparently not.
Her eyeless head turned.
Toward the ship.
Toward him.
Qaritas froze.
That was ridiculous.
She didn't have eyes.
There was absolutely no reason he should know she was looking directly at him.
He knew anyway.
Her smile widened.
Qaritas disliked that immediately.
Gawi's mouth opened.
Her voice did not cross space.
It arrived inside the ship.
Inside the walls.
Inside Qaritas's skull.
Inside several organs that had not consented to participate in the conversation.
"Hold on."
Qaritas stared.
"To what?"
Gawi moved.
"Oh, you have got to be—"
Too late.
One enormous limb wrapped around the ship.
The entire vessel screamed.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—
Another limb curled beneath it.
The living walls contracted in panic.
Qaritas grabbed the nearest structural ridge.
Xheavend grabbed another.
"GAWI!"
The enormous smile remained.
Her wings opened.
Every crimson strand inside them ignited.
Qaritas suddenly realized something.
She wasn't going to fly.
"No."
Space compressed ahead of her.
"No, no, no—"
Gawi crouched.
Which should not have been possible without legs.
She managed it anyway.
"GAWI—"
She jumped.
There was no acceleration.
No gradual movement.
One moment—
Hstrarkit filled half the membrane.
The next—
the universe broke.
Stars became lines.
Lines became rings.
Rings folded into one another.
Galaxies stretched across Qaritas's vision and vanished behind them.
Distance collapsed.
The ship twisted.
Qaritas's stomach remained somewhere several million miles behind his body.
"AAAAAAAAAAAA—"
Xheavend's boots slid several feet.
She caught herself against the wall.
Qaritas did not.
He left the floor.
Hit the ceiling.
Bounced.
Hit another wall.
Something cracked.
He sincerely hoped it was the ship.
Then—
he saw Yandaro.
Still sitting.
Still holding whatever remained between his hands.
His body shifted slightly with the violent movement.
His shoulder struck the wall.
He barely reacted.
No scream.
No surprise.
No wonder.
Outside the ship, stars were folding around a 197-foot cosmic nightmare carrying them through space in her arms.
Yandaro didn't care.
Qaritas stopped shouting.
For one strange moment—
amid screaming alarms—
twisting space—
Gawi's impossible body—
Xheavend swearing somewhere behind him—
and the universe being reduced to streaks of light—
Qaritas could only look at the boy.
Yandaro stared at his blood-covered hands.
Hstrarkit was gone now.
Completely.
Too far away to see.
His father was gone with it.
And Qaritas finally understood.
They had escaped.
Yandaro hadn't.
Not yet.
The stars returned badly.
Not gradually.
Not gracefully.
One moment, Qaritas was watching the universe stretch into luminous ribbons around them—
the next—
everything snapped back into place.
His stomach did not.
The ship lurched.
Qaritas hit the floor.
Again.
He remained there.
For several seconds.
Possibly longer.
He had recently developed a profound appreciation for floors.
They were dependable.
They stayed where they were.
Usually.
"Are we dead?"
Xheavend looked down at him.
"No."
"Unfortunate."
"You screamed."
"I was being transported through space by a two-hundred-foot nightmare."
"One hundred and ninety-seven."
Qaritas slowly lifted his head.
"What?"
"Gawi is one hundred and ninety-seven feet tall."
"That correction did not improve anything."
Outside—
space had become quiet.
Actually quiet.
No black fractures.
No armies.
No pieces of Yzer reaching across the stars.
Hstrarkit was gone.
Not destroyed.
Not hidden behind something.
Gone.
Gawi had carried them so far that the world wasn't even visible anymore.
The ship groaned.
Several wounded sections of its interior pulsed weakly.
Something wet dripped onto Qaritas's shoulder.
He didn't look.
He had learned.
Then—
the enormous limb wrapped around the vessel loosened.
The ship floated free.
Qaritas pushed himself upright.
Outside the viewing membrane—
Gawi drifted against the stars.
All one hundred and ninety-seven feet of her.
Her enormous crystallized-blood wings remained spread behind her.
Hundreds of limbs curled beneath her body.
Her eyeless head tilted.
Then—
something happened.
Qaritas leaned closer.
"Gawi?"
Her body contracted.
Not shrank.
Contracted.
The distinction became immediately horrifying.
Hundreds of cephalopod limbs twisted inward.
They didn't simply disappear.
They folded.
One wrapped around another.
Then another.
Then another.
Muscle compressed into muscle.
Bone slid beneath exposed tissue.
Entire limbs disappeared between other limbs.
Qaritas watched several structures bend in directions bones were not supposed to bend.
CRACK.
Her lower body folded upward.
CRACK.
Another section collapsed inward.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.
Qaritas's face twisted.
"Does that hurt?"
Gawi did not answer.
Possibly because her jaw was currently splitting into several pieces.
Her torso compressed.
One hundred and ninety-seven feet became one hundred and fifty.
Then one hundred.
Then sixty.
Then thirty.
There was no logical destination for the mass.
That was what bothered Qaritas most.
She wasn't shedding anything.
Nothing fell away.
Nothing evaporated.
Nothing remained behind.
It all simply—
fit.
Somewhere.
Her wings came next.
Nearly three hundred and ninety-four feet of crystallized blood and branching bone folded behind her.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
The crimson webbing shattered into thousands of crystalline fragments.
Instead of floating away—
the pieces reversed.
They drove themselves back into the remaining structures.
Bone shortened.
Branches collapsed.
Crystals fused.
The enormous wings compressed until they could rest behind a body barely taller than most doorways.
Her hundreds of limbs disappeared.
Four arms remained.
Two legs touched the ship's outer surface.
Nine—
perhaps ten—
perhaps eleven feet.
Qaritas couldn't tell.
Gawi's size seemed to regard exact measurement as a suggestion.
Then—
stillness.
There she was.
Krsangawi.
Four powerful arms.
Exposed muscle beneath thin patches of dark translucent flesh.
Crimson veins pulsing beneath it.
Bone-like armor growing naturally around her shoulders, chest and forearms.
Two blood-crystal wings folded against her back.
No eyes.
And that smile.
Ten rows of teeth behind it.
The Gawi Qaritas knew.
Except now—
he knew what was inside her.
That made everything worse.
A section of the ship opened.
Gawi stepped through.
The wound closed behind her.
She brushed something from one shoulder.
Qaritas stared.
Gawi stopped.
Her eyeless face turned toward him.
"What?"
Qaritas looked at her.
Then—
very slowly—
looked past her.
At the place where approximately one hundred and eighty-six feet of Gawi had apparently gone.
He looked back.
"Nothing."
Her smile widened.
"Good."
Qaritas decided not to ask.
There were questions a person deserved answers to.
There were questions that allowed a person to sleep.
And there were questions involving where Krsangawi stored one hundred and eighty-six feet of herself.
He intended to die ignorant.
Xheavend approached her.
"You could have warned us."
"I did."
"You said hold on."
"That was the warning."
"There was nothing to hold on to."
Gawi tilted her head.
"Then you identified the flaw quickly."
Qaritas stared at her.
Xheavend stared at her.
Gawi continued walking.
Qaritas understood why Goro liked her.
That was unfortunate.
Then—
"Can we go back?"
Everything stopped.
Not the ship.
Not the alarms.
Not the wet pulse of damaged walls attempting to regenerate.
Them.
Qaritas turned.
Yandaro had finally lifted his head.
His voice had been quiet.
So quiet Qaritas almost thought he'd imagined it.
Yandaro looked at Gawi.
"Can we go back?"
Gawi stopped walking.
Her smile remained.
It had to.
Qaritas understood that now.
That smile wasn't an expression.
It was anatomy.
But something else changed.
Her four arms became still.
Her wings stopped twitching.
Even the subtle movement beneath her exposed muscle seemed to settle.
"No."
Yandaro stared at her.
Qaritas saw his fingers close.
"Why?"
Gawi didn't answer immediately.
Yandaro swallowed.
"His body is still there."
There it was.
Not Hstrarkit.
Not the people.
Not the battle.
Not Yzer.
His father.
Gawi turned completely toward him.
"I know."
"Then take me back."
"I can't."
Yandaro's expression changed.
Something finally cracked through the numbness.
Anger.
"You just fought him."
"Yes."
"You beat his army."
"Part of it."
"You just carried an entire ship through space."
"Yes."
"Then take me back!"
His voice broke.
The final word came out too high.
Too young.
Qaritas looked away.
Only briefly.
It felt intrusive to watch.
Gawi didn't.
She crossed the room.
Yandaro pushed himself to his feet.
He looked tiny beside her.
Almost everyone did.
"Take me back!"
"No."
"I'll get him myself!"
"No."
"You can't stop me!"
"I can."
"I hate you!"
Gawi accepted that without reaction.
Yandaro's breathing became ragged.
"You don't even care."
Gawi lowered herself.
Not all the way.
Even crouched, she was enormous.
But enough.
"I care."
"No, you don't!"
"That is permitted."
Yandaro blinked.
Gawi's voice remained strange.
Layered.
Multiple tones moving behind ten rows of teeth.
"You may hate me."
His face crumpled.
"You may blame me."
His breathing hitched.
"You may decide that if I were stronger, faster, wiser, or less occupied with keeping the rest of you alive, your father would still be here."
Yandaro's eyes filled.
Gawi didn't touch him.
"You may be angry with him."
Yandaro froze.
Qaritas did too.
Gawi continued.
"You may be angry that he died."
A tear rolled down Yandaro's cheek.
"You may be angry that he left you."
"He didn't leave me."
"I know."
"He wouldn't."
"I know."
"He—"
His voice broke.
"He wouldn't leave me."
Gawi's head tilted.
"No."
That did it.
Yandaro folded.
Not dramatically.
His knees simply stopped holding him.
Qaritas moved—
Gawi was already there.
One of four arms caught him before he hit the floor.
Yandaro fought her immediately.
"No!"
Gawi let him.
He hit her chest.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Fists striking exposed muscle.
"Take me back!"
Gawi held him.
"Take me back!"
Another hit.
"Take me back!"
Another.
"I want my dad!"
Gawi said nothing.
"I WANT MY DAD!"
The scream tore through the damaged ship.
Then the strength left him.
Yandaro's fists stopped.
His forehead fell against Gawi's chest.
His shoulders shook.
Gawi remained there.
Holding him.
Her permanent smile was grotesque above the grieving child.
And somehow—
that made the gentleness of her hands worse.
Qaritas looked toward Xheavend.
She was staring at Yandaro.
Her face had gone very still.
Too still.
Qaritas knew that expression.
She was thinking about family.
Perhaps Tavran.
Perhaps Zcain.
Rnarah.
Twelve brothers.
A home she had spent years believing had forgotten her.
Gawi eventually lifted Yandaro.
Not like a warrior.
Not like cargo.
Like a child.
Yandaro didn't protest.
He simply curled against one of her arms and cried.
For a while—
nobody spoke.
The ship continued healing around them.
A damaged membrane sealed.
One alarm stopped screaming.
Then another.
Stars drifted beyond the wall.
Qaritas let the silence remain as long as he could.
Eventually—
he looked at Gawi.
There had been a question bothering him long before Hstrarkit.
Before Yzer.
Before Gawi had revealed that she could apparently become large enough to use a building as jewelry.
"Where have you been?"
Gawi turned toward him.
Yandaro remained against her.
"What?"
"You disappear."
"Frequently."
"I noticed."
"Congratulations."
Qaritas ignored that.
"For months sometimes."
"Yes."
"Then you appear somewhere, refuse to explain anything, nearly get us killed, save us from whatever nearly killed us, and disappear again."
Gawi considered this.
"That sounds accurate."
Xheavend folded her arms.
"He's asking what you're doing."
"I know."
"Then answer him."
Gawi's smile widened.
"No."
Qaritas closed his eyes.
"Gawi."
A pause.
Then she sighed.
It was deeply unpleasant hearing something without ordinary lungs sigh.
"I have been working."
"Doing what?"
"Undoing Yzer."
That got everyone's attention.
Even Yandaro's crying quieted slightly.
Qaritas frowned.
"That's vague."
"It was intended to be."
"Gawi."
"Fine."
She adjusted Yandaro slightly in her arms.
Then—
"Ascendants."
Xheavend's head snapped toward her.
Gawi continued.
"Yzer has spent an extraordinary amount of time collecting them."
Qaritas's stomach tightened.
"Collecting?"
"Imprisoning."
That sounded more accurate.
"Some are sealed."
One finger lifted.
"Some buried."
Another.
"Some bound to structures keeping entire regions stable."
Another.
"Some tortured."
Another.
Her four hands became still.
"Some have been inside his prisons long enough to forget there was ever anything outside them."
Xheavend stared.
Qaritas remembered Sra.
The Labyrinth.
The way she'd spoken about Ascendants in the Third Universe.
Sealed.
Tortured.
Hiding.
"You're freeing them?"
"When possible."
"How many?"
"Not enough."
Qaritas didn't like that answer.
"Why only when possible?"
Gawi's eyeless face turned toward him.
"Because breaking a prison is considerably less impressive when the prisoner dies with it."
Qaritas shut his mouth.
"Some are sustaining their cages without knowing it. Some prisons are inside them. Some have been altered so extensively that removing Yzer's influence too quickly would kill them. Others are bound to worlds."
She flexed one hand.
"I have learned patience."
Xheavend made a tiny sound.
Qaritas glanced at her.
She appeared deeply unconvinced that Gawi had learned anything resembling patience.
Gawi ignored her.
"But Ascendants are not my primary work."
Qaritas frowned.
"What is?"
"Mortals."
That surprised him.
"Mortals?"
"Yes."
"What are you doing with mortals?"
"Teaching them."
Xheavend's eyes narrowed.
"Teaching them what?"
"How to kill."
Silence.
Gawi added:
"Among other things."
Of course.
Qaritas leaned against the wall.
"Explain."
Gawi's wings shifted behind her.
"Yzer has worlds."
"Yes."
"Too many."
"Also yes."
"Some have been occupied so long their people believe his soldiers cannot die."
Qaritas understood immediately.
"So you show them they can."
"I teach them how."
She began pacing slowly.
Yandaro remained in her arms.
"I teach them which creatures regenerate."
Step.
"Which ones imitate death."
Step.
"Which ones share minds."
Step.
"Which ones require destruction of particular organs."
Step.
"Which ones should never be killed near water."
Qaritas decided not to ask.
"Which armies depend upon commanders."
Another step.
"Which commanders depend upon Yzer."
Her smile widened.
"And which commanders merely need someone sufficiently motivated to remove their head."
Xheavend stared.
"You've been training rebellions."
"Some."
"Armies?"
"Sometimes."
"Entire worlds?"
"When necessary."
Qaritas pushed away from the wall.
"Then why not just do it yourself?"
Gawi stopped.
He gestured toward the viewing membrane.
"I just watched you tear apart an army while holding back Yzer."
"Part of Yzer."
"Fine. Part of Yzer."
Qaritas pointed at her.
"You could liberate worlds yourself."
"Yes."
The answer came too easily.
Qaritas frowned.
"So why don't you?"
Gawi looked at him.
For once—
the answer wasn't immediate.
Then one of her four hands flexed.
"I can kill an army for them."
Her claws curled.
"I cannot become their courage."
Qaritas went quiet.
Gawi continued.
"I can destroy a fortress."
Another hand moved.
"I can kill a governor."
Another.
"Break weapons."
Another.
"Open prisons."
All four lowered.
"But eventually, I leave."
Her head tilted.
"Then what?"
Nobody answered.
Gawi did.
"Another army comes."
She looked toward the stars.
"Another tyrant."
"Another Fragment."
"Another god."
"Another creature convinced power grants ownership."
Her smile remained.
"If I free every world myself, then they are not free."
Qaritas frowned.
"They're dependent on you."
Gawi turned toward him.
"Exactly."
That sat differently.
Qaritas looked through the membrane.
Somewhere beyond those stars were entire worlds Gawi had visited.
People she'd taught to resist.
Perhaps armies currently fighting because she had shown them that the things ruling them could bleed.
Xheavend spoke.
Quietly.
"You're helping them?"
Gawi looked toward her.
"Yes."
"You're teaching them to fight Yzer?"
"Yes."
"You're freeing Ascendants?"
"When I can."
Xheavend stared at her.
Qaritas saw it happen.
Something behind her eyes changed.
Not confusion.
Not curiosity.
Anger.
Deep.
Immediate.
"Then why didn't you help Hstrarkit?"
Silence.
Gawi became still.
Qaritas looked at Xheavend.
Her hands had clenched.
"Xheavend—"
"No."
She stepped forward.
"You just said you've been helping worlds."
"I have."
"Teaching them."
"Yes."
"Saving Ascendants."
"When possible."
"Then why didn't you help them?"
Gawi's smile remained.
"Hstrarkit did not need what those worlds needed."
Xheavend stared.
"What?"
"It needed something else."
"People died."
"I know."
Xheavend pointed toward Yandaro.
"His father is dead."
Yandaro stiffened in Gawi's arms.
Qaritas's stomach dropped.
Gawi didn't look away from Xheavend.
"I know."
"You were there!"
"Yes."
"You knew what was happening!"
"Yes."
"You knew Yzer was coming!"
"Yes."
"Then you could have stopped it!"
Gawi said nothing.
That made Xheavend angrier.
"You could have!"
"I could have killed more of his army."
"Then why didn't you?!"
"Because Hstrarkit will survive."
Silence.
Xheavend stared at her.
Then—
"PEOPLE DIED!"
The ship seemed to recoil from her voice.
Gawi didn't.
"Yes."
"Then don't tell me they'll survive!"
"I did not say everyone would."
Qaritas's breath caught.
Xheavend went completely still.
Even Gawi seemed to recognize how hard the words landed.
But she didn't take them back.
Xheavend's eyes burned.
"That's disgusting."
"Perhaps."
"You think because enough people lived, that makes it acceptable?"
"No."
"That's what you just said!"
"No."
Gawi's voice remained level.
"I said Hstrarkit will survive."
She shifted Yandaro carefully.
"I did not say what happened there was acceptable."
Xheavend's jaw tightened.
"What's the difference?"
"Everything."
Gawi turned slightly toward the viewing membrane.
"Hstrarkit knows Yzer now."
Xheavend said nothing.
"They know his soldiers bleed."
"They know which weapons failed."
"Which defenses held."
"Which regions survived."
"Which routes remained usable."
"Which species fled before his forces arrived."
"Which creatures attacked them."
Qaritas slowly understood.
Gawi continued.
"They know their world better than Yzer does."
One of her hands curled.
"They have leaders."
Another.
"Food."
Another.
"Children."
The fourth.
"Knowledge."
She lowered them.
"And rage."
Xheavend shook her head.
"So that's it?"
"No."
"You just leave them?"
"No."
"What, then?"
"I give them what they require."
"Why didn't they require you?!"
Gawi turned.
"Because I will not always be there."
Xheavend laughed once.
There was nothing amused in it.
"That's convenient."
"Yes."
That answer stopped her.
Gawi continued.
"It would be considerably easier if I remained."
Her voice lowered.
"If I stood above every city."
"Killed every enemy."
"Chose every leader."
"Decided every battle."
"Protected every child."
Her permanent smile suddenly looked much less amusing.
"What would you call me then, little lady?"
Xheavend didn't answer.
Gawi did not need her to.
A protector who never left.
A ruler nobody could oppose.
A god deciding what everyone beneath her needed.
Too close.
Far too close to something Xheavend knew intimately.
But her anger didn't disappear.
Good.
Qaritas didn't think it should.
Xheavend looked at Yandaro.
"His father still died."
Gawi followed her gaze.
Yandaro had stopped crying.
His face was wet.
His eyes were red.
He was watching her now.
Gawi lowered him carefully to the floor.
Then she crouched.
"Your father dying was not required."
Yandaro stared.
Gawi's smile remained.
Everything else about her became still.
"He was not payment."
Yandaro swallowed.
"Not a lesson."
Another breath.
"Not a necessary sacrifice."
His lower lip trembled.
"Then why?"
Gawi's head tilted.
"Because terrible things happen even when someone powerful is nearby."
Yandaro's eyes filled again.
Gawi did not soften the truth.
She did not decorate it.
"Do not mistake survival for fairness, little one."
Yandaro looked down.
Gawi waited.
Then Yandaro whispered:
"He should've survived too."
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No philosophy.
No strategy.
Just—
yes.
Qaritas looked away.
Xheavend didn't.
She stared at Gawi.
Her anger had changed.
Not disappeared.
Changed.
"You talk about worlds like they're one thing."
Gawi turned toward her.
"They're people."
"Yes."
"Not civilizations."
"Yes."
"Not armies."
"Yes."
"People."
"Yes."
"Then one person matters."
Gawi's smile remained.
"Yes."
Xheavend's voice cracked.
"Then why didn't you save him?"
Silence.
Not defensive silence.
Not irritated silence.
Just—
silence.
Gawi looked at Yandaro.
Then at Xheavend.
Then Qaritas.
The monstrous woman who had just folded one hundred and ninety-seven feet of herself into a body small enough to stand inside a ship—
who had torn through Yzer's soldiers—
who had spent years opening prisons and teaching worlds how to fight—
answered with four quiet words.
"Because I cannot save everyone."
Xheavend said nothing.
Neither did Qaritas.
Yandaro lowered his head.
And for once—
Krsangawi had no clever answer.
No ancient strategy.
No hidden weapon.
No impossible strength capable of changing what had already happened.
Just a dead father.
A grieving son.
A thirteen-year-old boy furious that power still had limits.
And a universe large enough that even monsters could not save everyone.
For a while—
nobody said anything.
There wasn't anything left to say.
Yandaro remained near the wall.
Xheavend stood several feet away from him, arms folded tightly across her chest.
Qaritas watched Gawi.
Gawi watched—
Xheavend.
No.
Not Xheavend.
Qaritas noticed the distinction slowly.
Her eyeless face wasn't angled toward Xheavend's face.
It was lower.
Her throat.
Her chest.
The veins beneath her skin.
The blood moving through her.
Xheavend noticed too.
Her shoulders tightened.
"What?"
Gawi didn't answer.
Xheavend frowned.
"What are you looking at?"
The permanent smile widened.
Qaritas immediately disliked that.
"Actually, little lady—"
Gawi took one step closer.
"I came here to have a conversation."
Xheavend blinked.
"With me?"
"No."
Silence.
Gawi raised one hand.
One claw hovered several inches from Xheavend's chest.
Not touching.
Listening.
Feeling.
Qaritas straightened.
Then Gawi said—
"With the Fragment in your blood."
Everything changed.
Xheavend went rigid.
Yandaro looked up.
Qaritas's hand immediately went to his weapon.
Not because he expected it to accomplish anything.
Experience had simply taught him that whenever Yzer became part of a conversation, holding something sharp made him feel marginally better.
Gawi glanced toward him.
"That will not help."
"I know."
"Then why are you holding it?"
"Emotional support."
Gawi accepted this.
Xheavend didn't move.
Her fingers had curled.
Qaritas could see the tiny change in her breathing.
That was all.
But he knew.
Yzer.
Inside her blood.
Even after everything Goro had done.
Even after years of poison.
Even after all the attempts to make her body less useful to him—
something remained.
A road.
Damaged.
Poisoned.
Broken in places.
But not entirely gone.
Gawi stepped closer.
Xheavend instinctively stepped backward.
Gawi stopped.
Immediately.
She didn't follow.
That mattered.
Her four hands remained where Xheavend could see them.
"I'm not touching you."
Xheavend swallowed.
"I know."
"Good."
Gawi tilted her head.
Then her attention moved past Xheavend again.
Into her.
Toward something none of them could see.
Her smile widened.
"Hello, Yzer."
Nothing happened.
Qaritas waited.
The ship groaned around them.
A membrane repaired itself somewhere overhead.
Yandaro wiped his face with the back of his hand.
Xheavend stared at Gawi.
Then—
a voice came from behind Qaritas.
"Hello, Krsangawi."
Qaritas spun.
Yzer stood beside the viewing membrane.
Of course he did.
No entrance.
No opening in reality.
No warning.
One moment there had been empty space.
The next—
him.
Perfectly composed.
Perfectly calm.
As though he'd been invited.
Qaritas hated that more than dramatic entrances.
Yzer's gaze moved immediately toward Xheavend.
Not Gawi.
Xheavend.
His expression softened.
"Little ward."
Xheavend's face emptied.
Gawi's upper-right hand twitched.
Only once.
Yzer noticed.
His eyes finally moved toward her.
Gawi sounded almost pleasant.
"I've been wanting to speak with you."
Yzer smiled.
"Have you?"
"Very much."
"How flattering."
"It isn't."
Gawi walked between him and Xheavend.
Yzer's smile remained.
Gawi towered over the projection.
Four arms.
Exposed muscle.
Blood-crystal wings.
That permanent impossible grin.
And after seeing what those eleven feet were capable of becoming—
Qaritas found her condensed form considerably more alarming.
Gawi tilted her head.
"I've wanted this conversation ever since you took my husband and threw him into your bloody Labyrinth."
Yzer's expression didn't change.
Qaritas's did.
Not because he didn't know who she meant.
He did.
Goro.
Qaritas had known they were married.
He had known Yzer had taken Goro into the Labyrinth.
Those were facts.
Separate facts.
Facts that had existed comfortably enough inside his head without ever being placed directly beside one another.
Until now.
Gawi wasn't talking about some imprisoned Ascendant.
Or an ally.
Or one of Eon's old monsters.
She was talking about her husband.
And judging by the way every one of her four hands had gone completely still—
she had not forgiven Yzer.
Not remotely.
Yzer's expression remained unchanged.
"Ah."
Something inside Gawi's wings clicked.
"You remember."
"Of course."
"Good."
Gawi's smile stretched slightly wider.
"I would have been offended otherwise."
Yzer didn't.
"Ah."
That one sound made something inside Gawi's wings click.
"You remember."
"Of course."
"Good."
Gawi's smile stretched slightly wider.
"I would have been offended otherwise."
Yzer clasped his hands behind his back.
"He entered willingly enough."
"No."
Gawi's tone didn't rise.
It became flatter.
"He entered because you built circumstances in which every other choice killed people he loved."
"A choice nonetheless."
Gawi stared at him.
Then—
laughed.
Once.
It sounded like something buried very deep underground discovering humor.
"That."
Yzer tilted his head.
"That?"
"That little habit."
Gawi raised one finger.
"You build a cage."
A second.
"Remove every door."
A third.
"Put knives behind every wall."
A fourth.
"Then congratulate the prisoner for choosing where to stand."
Yzer's smile remained.
"You disapprove."
"I find it tedious."
Qaritas glanced toward Xheavend.
Her eyes hadn't left Yzer.
Gawi continued.
"You may do whatever little dance you've convinced yourself constitutes ownership."
She moved one hand toward Xheavend.
Then stopped before touching her.
Looked at her.
Waited.
Xheavend noticed.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Xheavend gave the smallest nod.
Only then did Gawi place one of her four hands against her shoulder.
Carefully.
No gripping.
No claiming.
Just—
there.
"But these children are under my protection now."
Yzer's gaze dropped to Gawi's hand.
Then returned to Xheavend.
"Children."
"Yes."
"My ward is hardly your responsibility."
Xheavend flinched.
Gawi didn't argue the word.
Didn't say she wasn't his ward.
Didn't give Yzer the satisfaction of debating whatever definition he'd twisted into something resembling affection.
Instead—
"You seem to have forgotten something."
Yzer's expression barely changed.
"Have I?"
Gawi's blood-crystal wings opened several inches.
Qaritas felt the ship react.
The living floor beneath his boots tightened.
"I served Eon."
Yzer watched her.
Not casually anymore.
Gawi continued.
"I was the sixth commander of Eon, the First Evil."
The words entered the room without ceremony.
No thunder.
No power exploding from her body.
No dramatic shift in reality.
They didn't need one.
Qaritas had just seen her true form.
He had watched her hold back part of Yzer while dismantling an army.
Gawi wasn't boasting.
She was reminding him.
"There were six of us."
Her mouth opened slightly.
One row of teeth.
Then another.
Then another.
Ten rows descending into darkness.
"None of the six were weak."
Silence.
Yzer looked at her.
Actually looked.
Qaritas noticed it immediately.
Not fear.
He wouldn't call it that.
Recognition.
Calculation.
The expression of something ancient being reminded of another ancient thing's history.
Then—
Yzer smiled.
"Oh, I know."
Gawi became very still.
Yzer's eyes remained on her.
"We all know."
Qaritas frowned.
"All?"
Yzer didn't acknowledge him.
"Every Fragment knows your name, Krsangawi."
Gawi said nothing.
"We know what you were."
"What you served."
"What you survived."
His gaze briefly moved toward her folded wings.
"And what happened to things foolish enough to stand between the six commanders and whatever objective Eon had given them."
Qaritas slowly lowered his weapon.
Not because he felt safer.
Quite the opposite.
Yzer continued.
"If a Fragment were foolish enough to declare war upon you—"
Gawi's head tilted.
"Go on."
Yzer smiled.
"We would not merely be fighting Krsangawi."
A pause.
"We would be picking a fight with the First Universe."
Qaritas stared.
Something clicked into place.
The retreat.
Yzer's forces could have continued pursuing them.
Yzer had still been reaching toward the ship.
Then Gawi had planted herself between them.
And eventually—
the army had fled.
Not because Gawi could kill soldiers.
Qaritas had assumed that was the reason.
It wasn't.
Killing Gawi—
or perhaps seriously moving against her—
had consequences.
Old ones.
The kind powerful enough that Fragments knew the rule.
Qaritas looked at her.
Gawi noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You are doing that poorly."
Qaritas looked back at Yzer.
"You didn't follow us because of her."
Yzer finally glanced toward him.
"I did follow you."
"You stopped."
"I exercised restraint."
Gawi's smile widened.
"You ran."
Yzer looked at her.
"I withdrew."
"You ran elegantly."
"I did not run."
"You retreated while I was eating your army."
"I noticed."
"Then we agree."
"We do not."
Gawi seemed delighted.
Qaritas stared between them.
This was—
strangely—
the least comfortable conversation he had ever witnessed.
Not because they were shouting.
Because neither needed to.
Yzer's gaze returned to Xheavend.
"Still."
There it was.
The tone changed.
Barely.
But Qaritas felt it.
Yzer stepped sideways.
Gawi moved with him.
He stopped.
"You cannot remain beside her forever."
Gawi's smile remained.
"No."
Xheavend's fingers tightened.
Yzer saw.
Of course he saw.
"You cannot follow her into every room."
"No."
"Every world."
"No."
"Every dream."
Gawi's wings twitched.
"No."
"Every moment."
"No."
Yzer's smile became softer.
Possessive.
"There will be moments when you aren't there."
Gawi nodded.
"Yes."
"Moments when Goro isn't there."
Qaritas saw Xheavend's jaw tighten.
"When Qaritas isn't there."
His eyes moved briefly toward him.
"When her brothers aren't there."
That landed.
Xheavend's breathing changed.
Gawi noticed.
Her lower-left hand curled into a fist.
Yzer continued.
"Eventually, Krsangawi—"
His eyes returned to Xheavend.
"She will be alone."
Silence.
"Then what exactly are you threatening me with?"
Gawi answered immediately.
"Consequences."
Yzer looked at her.
Gawi's head tilted.
"You mistake protection for proximity."
A tiny movement passed through Yzer's expression.
Gawi continued.
"I do not need to be standing beside someone when you harm them to decide afterward that I dislike it."
Qaritas almost smiled.
Almost.
Yzer didn't.
"Is that a threat?"
"No."
Gawi's permanent grin widened.
"It's an explanation."
Her wings unfolded another inch.
The blood crystal caught the ship's internal light.
"Touch them while they're beneath my protection again."
Yzer's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And?"
Gawi leaned forward.
"Find out whether the stories about the six commanders were exaggerated."
Silence.
Longer this time.
Qaritas watched Yzer.
Waited for the smile.
The insult.
The dismissal.
Something.
Yzer gave none.
He simply looked at Gawi.
Then—
"Some were."
Gawi's smile stretched impossibly wide.
"Which ones?"
Yzer smiled again.
"There were stories claiming you were pleasant."
Qaritas made a sound before he could stop himself.
Gawi slowly turned her head.
He covered his mouth.
"Sorry."
Xheavend's lips twitched.
Just slightly.
Even Yandaro looked up.
Gawi turned back toward Yzer.
"Anything else?"
"Many things."
"Concerning the children."
Yzer's gaze immediately returned to Xheavend.
"Yes."
"No."
Yzer's eyes narrowed.
"I haven't asked."
"I know."
"Then how do you know the answer?"
"Because you're predictable."
That wiped something from his expression.
Gawi continued.
"She isn't going back with you."
Yzer's voice softened.
"Eventually."
"No."
"She belongs—"
Gawi moved.
Qaritas didn't see the movement.
One moment her hand was beside her.
The next—
a claw rested against Yzer's throat.
The projection flickered.
Gawi's voice remained conversational.
"Choose your next word very carefully."
Yzer looked down at the claw.
Then at Xheavend.
"My ward."
Gawi remained still.
Yzer smiled.
Gawi removed her hand.
"Acceptable."
Qaritas stared.
Xheavend looked deeply offended.
"That was acceptable?"
"No."
Gawi turned slightly.
"But it was better than the alternative."
Yzer's smile sharpened.
"You can't kill me through this."
"I know."
"Then why bother?"
"I wanted to see if you'd flinch."
A pause.
"Did I?"
"No."
"Disappointed?"
"Devastated."
Qaritas was beginning to understand something else about Eon's sixth commander.
She was insane.
Possibly functionally.
Yzer looked toward Xheavend again.
"You've changed."
Xheavend didn't answer.
"I can feel it."
Nothing.
"There are things inside you that weren't there before."
Xheavend's expression remained blank.
Qaritas thought of everything she carried.
End.
The Horsemen.
The secrets even he didn't fully understand.
Yzer took one step closer.
Gawi's wings opened.
He stopped.
"You can hide things from me now."
Xheavend finally spoke.
"Good."
Yzer smiled.
"For a while."
Gawi's upper hands cracked their knuckles.
"You're becoming repetitive."
Yzer ignored her.
His eyes remained on Xheavend.
"I'll see you again."
Xheavend's face hardened.
"No."
"You always say that."
"And you always leave anyway."
That landed.
Qaritas saw it.
Small.
But there.
Xheavend saw it too.
So did Gawi.
Yzer's projection began thinning.
Gawi called after him.
"Oh, Yzer."
He stopped fading.
Looked at her.
Gawi's smile widened.
"My husband."
Yzer waited.
"I am getting him back."
No uncertainty.
No request.
No bargaining.
A statement.
Yzer regarded her.
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"That confidence has cost you before."
"So has underestimating me."
His smile returned.
"I haven't."
"Good."
Gawi's voice lowered.
"Then you'll understand why you should start worrying now."
Yzer disappeared.
Not dramatically.
One moment—
there.
The next—
gone.
The room remained silent.
Qaritas didn't move.
Nobody did.
He looked at the place Yzer had occupied.
Then at Gawi.
Then Xheavend.
Then Gawi again.
His thoughts attempted to organize themselves.
They failed.
Within what felt like an offensively short amount of time, Qaritas had learned that—
Gawi's familiar body was essentially a condensed version of a 197-foot nightmare.
She had served directly beneath Eon.
Not vaguely.
Not indirectly.
She had been one of the First Evil's six commanders.
He knew Yzer had taken Goro into the Labyrinth.
Gawi had apparently responded by spending her time dismantling Yzer's control across multiple worlds.
She was freeing imprisoned Ascendants.
Training mortal populations.
Building rebellions capable of surviving without her.
And Yzer—
Yzer—
had just openly admitted that Fragments knew better than to treat attacking Krsangawi as an isolated conflict.
Because doing so could mean picking a fight with the First Universe.
Qaritas thought back over every interaction he'd ever had with Gawi.
Every sarcastic remark.
Every complaint.
Every time he'd ignored instructions.
Every time he'd argued.
Every time he'd probably annoyed her.
He frowned.
Perhaps—
in retrospect—
some personal growth was appropriate.
Gawi turned toward him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You've said that twice."
"I've decided to become more respectful."
Xheavend looked at him.
Gawi tilted her head.
"Why?"
"No reason."
"You saw my true form."
"No."
"Qaritas."
"Completely unrelated."
Gawi's smile widened.
"Good."
Qaritas reconsidered personal growth.
It seemed exhausting.
Gawi turned toward the ship's forward chamber.
"We're leaving."
Qaritas stared.
"We weren't already?"
"No."
"You carried us across space."
"Yes."
"At a speed that rearranged several of my organs."
"Probably."
"And that wasn't leaving?"
"That was escaping."
Of course there was a distinction.
Xheavend followed.
"Where are we going?"
Gawi didn't turn around.
"World Five."
Qaritas frowned.
He had heard the designation before.
Not much else.
"Galathan?"
"Yes."
Xheavend's expression shifted.
"What is on World Five?"
Gawi stopped.
Her eyeless face turned slowly toward them.
That smile widened.
"Teeth."
Silence.
Qaritas waited.
Nothing else came.
"That's it?"
"No."
"What else?"
"Many things."
"Such as?"
Gawi considered the question.
"More teeth."