The river. Three days north of the Southern Colonies. Dawn.
The river was wide here, slow, the water grey beneath a grey sky. Pine trees covered the slopes on both sides, their needles dark against the snow that had begun to fall. The air was cold enough to see breath, cold enough to numb the fingers, cold enough to kill a man who stayed still too long.
Haut had chosen this place for three reasons.
First, the water. The river was fed by springs from deep underground, minerals dissolved in the current, the same minerals that had poisoned Crook's Bend when the ritual failed. Those minerals were necessary. They were the catalyst.
Second, the isolation. The nearest village was a day's walk. The nearest patrol was further. No one would see what happened here. No one would hear.
Third, the exposure. He needed to be vulnerable. Needed Seraphine to see that he was vulnerable. Needed her to believe that she could kill him.
She had a knife in her sleeve. Lysander's knife. She'd hidden it before he searched her. He knew. He'd seen her hide it. He let her keep it.
That was contingency one.
Kael was in a pine tree above the cart. His feathers were dull. His eyes were tired. He hadn't eaten in four days. The last strip of meat was three days ago. Haut had given it to him knowing it would be the last for a while.
The bird was weakening. But his eyes were still sharp. He was still watching.
Contingency two: Kael would see anyone approaching from the ridge. He would warn Haut before they got close.
Riven stood at the tree line, her rifle across her chest. The Oath bound her. She couldn't harm Haut. She couldn't let harm come to him through inaction. But she could watch. She could wait. She could decide whether to act.
Contingency three: Riven's Oath forced her to protect him. She didn't have to like it. She didn't have to be happy about it. But she couldn't let him die.
Seraphine sat on a rock near the water. Her face was her own again—the potion had worn off hours ago. Her hands were in her lap. Her eyes were on Haut.
She was thinking about the knife in her sleeve. About how fast she could draw it. About how deep she would need to cut.
She was also thinking about what happened after. She didn't know the north. She didn't know the passes. She didn't know where Selini was. She didn't know how to survive alone.
If she killed Haut now, she would be alone.
So she waited.
That wasn't weakness. That was calculation.
Haut knelt at the water's edge. He placed the five crystals on a flat stone. White, purple, blue, pink, gray. They pulsed with light, even in the grey morning, even under the falling snow.
The Analytical Muscle Vien.
He'd first attempted this refinement at Crook's Bend, two months ago. The crystals had exploded. The river had poisoned. He'd nearly died.
That failure had cost him his face. His skin. The way people looked at him.
He'd spent the last few months learning why it failed. The recipe wasn't wrong. The materials weren't wrong. The execution was wrong. He'd added the celestial blood too early. He'd used river water that hadn't been properly filtered. He'd rushed.
He wouldn't rush this time.
He pulled a small wooden box from his coat. Lysander's box. The one from his chambers. He'd opened it last night, after Seraphine fell asleep.
Inside were letters. Dozens of them. Folded. Sorted by date. The earliest were from when Lysander was fourteen, written to a cousin he'd never met.
Selini. I don't know if you'll ever read this. I don't know if you're even alive. But I want you to know that someone in this family remembers you.
Later letters were different.
The Elite Squadron knows about the bloodline. They've been hunting celestial descendants for decades. They're afraid of what we can do. They should be.
Seraphine has the gift. I've seen her move metal without touching it. She doesn't know I've seen. I'll keep her secret until I die.
Mother told me about your mother before she died. She said the blood skips generations. She said Seraphine might never manifest. She was wrong.
Selini, if you're reading this, be careful. They know about you. They've always known.
Haut set the box on the stone beside the crystals.
Seraphine's eyes moved to it. Her hands stopped moving.
"That's his," she said.
Haut ignored her and kept reading.
"You opened it." She said.
Her voice was flat. "You read his letters."
"All of them."
She was silent for a moment. The snow fell on her shoulders. She didn't brush it off.
"He wrote about you," Haut said. "About Selini. About the bloodline. About the Elite Squadron hunting your family for decades."
He picked up the white crystal. Held it to the light.
"Your cousin has been working for the Squadron. Spying on the Shadow Sect. She didn't know they were hunting her. She didn't know they've been hunting her family since before she was born."
He cut his left palm. The blood welled up. He let it drip into the water.
"Your brother knew. He's been protecting you since you were children. Keeping your secret. Making sure the Squadron didn't find out about you."
He placed the white crystal in the water. It sank slowly, trailing light behind it.
"When the potion wore off, you became recognizable again. A Vex princess. Worth a fortune. Worth a hostage. Worth killing. The Squadron will be looking for you. They'll find you. And when they do, they'll use you the way they've been using Selini."
He cut his right palm. More blood. More drops.
"Unless you have someone protecting you. Someone who knows how they think. Someone who's already beaten them."
He placed the purple crystal in the water. It floated for a moment, spinning, then dropped.
Seraphine watched the water glow. Her face was still.
"You want me to trust you."
"No. I want you to understand that you have no other options."
He placed the blue crystal. It shot to the bottom, struck the riverbed, cracked. Light bled from the cracks.
"The letters are proof. Your brother's words. His fears. His plans. His love for you." He looked at her. "He died protecting you. Not because of me. Because of the Squadron. Because of your father. Because of everyone who stood by and watched him walk into the dark alone."
He placed the pink crystal. It hovered at the surface, pulsing. He pushed it down with his bleeding hand.
"I'm the only one who can keep you alive now. The only one who can help you find Selini. The only one who can help you destroy the people who killed your brother."
He held the gray crystal in his palm. It was cold. Colder than the water. Colder than the snow.
"What do you say?"
Seraphine looked at the box. At the letters. At her brother's handwriting, visible through the folds.
"What do you need from me?"
"Your silence. Your knowledge. Your cooperation. Nothing more."
She was quiet for a long time. The snow fell. The water glowed.
She thought about the knife in her sleeve. About how fast she could draw it. About how deep she would need to cut.
She thought about what happened after.
"Ok." She said without looking at him.
Haut placed the gray crystal in the water.
The refinement took three hours.
Haut worked in silence. His blood in the water. The crystals in his hands. The lights pulsing, growing brighter, then dimming, then bright again. The air around him grew thick, charged, like before a storm.
He didn't speak to Seraphine. He didn't look at her. He didn't have time. The crystals demanded his full attention. Every second of focus. Every drop of blood counted.
The water churned. The steam rose. The light grew so bright that Seraphine had to look away.
Haut didn't look away. He watched the crystals dissolve, one by one, absorbing into the water, absorbing into his blood, absorbing into his bones.
When the last crystal disappeared, he fell backward. His chest was heaving. His hands were burned. The skin was blackened, cracked, bleeding.
He lay on the ground, staring at the grey sky, the snow falling on his face.
The Analytical Muscle Vien was complete.
He stood. His legs were steady. His head was clear.
He flexed his fingers. They moved faster than they should have. Smoother. Stronger. Not a massive increase, he wasn't stronger than Sieyres now. But enough. Enough to feel the difference.
He looked at the trees. He could see the individual needles on the pine branches. The texture of the bark. The way the snow collected on each twig.
He listened. He could hear Riven breathing fifty paces away. He could hear Kael's wings shifting on the branch. He could hear Seraphine's heartbeat.
Fast. Steady. Not afraid.
He looked at her. She was still sitting on the rock, her hands in her lap, her eyes on him.
"The refinement," she said. "What did it do?"
"Increased my strength."
He knew that it was not enough in a fight against someone like Sieyres. But enough to matter in other ways.
He touched his temple.
"My thinking is faster. Sharper. I can process more information at once. I can see patterns I couldn't see before."
He looked at his hands.
"My senses are sharper. Not much. Enough."
He thought internally: "And there's a cost. Every three years, I have to refine the crystals again. With fresh blood. Or the effects fade."
She nodded. Didn't ask more.
He walked to the cart. His boots crunched on the snow.
"Get in. We're leaving."
The cart. That evening.
Riven drove. Haut sat beside her, his hands wrapped in fresh bandages. Seraphine was in the back, the letters spread across her lap.
Kael landed on the cart's edge. His feathers were dull. His eyes were tired. He hadn't eaten in four days.
Haut reached into his coat. Empty. No more meat.
He looked at the bird. The bird looked at him.
"Soon," Haut said.
Kael made a sound. Not agreement. Just acknowledgment.
"How much farther?" Riven asked.
"Three days to the first village. Then we find Selini."
She nodded. Didn't ask more.
Behind them, the river was hidden by the trees. The snow was falling harder now, covering their tracks.
Ahead, the north waited. The clans. The passes. The cold.
And somewhere in the north, Selini was looking for a brother she would never find.
Behind him, Seraphine read her brother's letters. Her face was still. Her hands were steady. She was thinking about the knife in her sleeve. Not today. But she'll find out a way. She didn't know about the favor and time reversal, that Haut killed Lysander in every timeline. Even Haut didn't didn't know about that. If would come to know, she would already be psychology annihilated. This would be simply too overbearing!