Neva’ar Drift was not the fortress Subeya had believed it to be all her life. During her intrepid adventures as a teenager, she had often caught sight of this magnificent structure floating hauntingly over the expanse of Lake Na’mel. Most of her escapades had been lonesome ventures, but when she had camped by the southern shores of the lake, tending to her wounds and spending hours gazing at the brilliance of the ancient facility, she had felt like there was someone watching over her. It was her temple. A shrine to a nameless deity. 

Now that she stood on the great shaded walkway within the Neva’ar Drift, it was nothing like she had imagined. The smooth black and purple marble-tiled floors that looked like the deepest parts of an ocean, felt cold beneath her feet, yet comforting in a way. The walls were lined with artefacts from the past — some forgotten form of art that looked like it was made from living tissue, but it was vibrant and colourful. The walls curved and stretched as if they were contrived of some amalgam of bone and metal. The empty corridors and enormous chambers looked like the insides of some magnanimous being and walking through it Subeya could not help but feel like the whole structure may actually be alive. Everything appeared well kept, as if untouched by time. 

The long journey from Neva’ar’s Dagger had brought them through an underground tunnel, partly constructed under the lake, to the base of this facility — the “Terra Vinculum”, Anandil had called it, had been a facility used by the Astraleids to communicate with their orbital cities. That something so delicately created was nothing but a facility seemed odd — if this was just a facility, imagine how creative their abodes may have been! But that is all she gleaned from Anandil or the monks. They were too busy taking care of the half-Astraleid to give Subeya any heed. She spent her time exploring the various chambers, hallways, arboretums, and laboratories, and when she found an interactive map, she was surprised to see that she had covered only a quarter of the facility over the week. 

Questions related to all that had happened since she had been released from the prison kept twirling in her mind. What did the Order of Saint Awynyth have to do with the Astraleids? Why was Abbess Anandil Homa involved with this advanced race of humans, who probably did not exist anymore? Who was Zov’ha? What sort of horror was that Ghost… that is probably still running wild in the wilderness of Urumoi? She was relieved when she finally received a message from the Abbess that she was ready to meet and talk.

The walkway upon which Subeya stood, spiralled around one of the tallest towers of the Terra Vinculum. She could see Lake Na’mel and the lands beyond. The balustrade to her right was a network of softwood, as if it were grown from a tree, rather than carved and carpentered from blocks of wood. Leaning over it, she found that it could easily take her weight. The sandstone towers of Kalgez were visible faintly in the distance, resplendent in the afternoon sun. She estimated she was around five-hundred metres above the lake. 

‘I see you have found peace up here,’ Abbess Anandil Homa said as she entered the walkway, dressed in her usual demure robes. It seemed to Subeya that the Abbess’ usual scornful demeanour had somehow disappeared and was now replaced with an expression of enlightenment, as if offered some long-awaited benediction.

‘About time you lent me your ear,’ Subeya replied, turning around and grinning blithely. ‘What’s up with our Little Hellion?’ 

‘I know our religion means little to you, but show some respect for our revered one,’ Anandil replied. ‘She is still weak, but she will recuperate in our care. I apologise for not telling you everything Subeya, but you must understand that the Order’s work is reserved for only those who follow us, and our secrets are revealed only to the clerical members of our cathedral.’

‘What’s with all the secrecy, ay? The Order’s the greatest religion in all these lands… And you’re telling me that none of the followers really know that you serve the Astraleids?’ 

Taking a deep breath, Anandil walked towards the balustrade and placed her gaunt, furry hands upon the wooden bannister, looking into the distance. ‘No, they do not. They follow us blindly because we help alleviate their problems with our sermons and our healers. All our resources are used to improve their lives… asking nothing in return but their faith.’ 

‘So you folks use the wealth that the Astraleids left behind?’

‘Not entirely,’ the Abbess replied, throwing her a furtive glance. Subeya had healed surprisingly quickly after the scuffle with the Ghost, but it had welted her already blemished face. She had applied Kalgezi warpaint to hide her scars in the typical Rud’vyr criss-cross pattern. She looked more fearsome this way. ‘Lady Marian Awynyth was an Astraleid. She was the last Astraleid to remain on the surface of the planet after the Divine Purge. After the wars, it was said that all the Astraleids left for Orbita Cygnus, but Lady Awynyth remained behind to care for the humans and to help rebuild the world.’ 

‘So she created the Order and made it the religion…’ 

‘Precisely,’ the Abess nodded, turning towards the view of the lake. ‘The Astraleids had a great working force of humans, millions of them, who used to aid them in everything from scientific work to the simplest, menial tasks. They were called The Disciples. Facilities like this were run by The Disciples, who were promised Ascension — that one day, after performing great service to the Astraleids, they would undergo the Adneuro Protuberance Protocol and in turn become Astraleids themselves. Many of them successfully were, in fact, recruited and “ascended.” 

‘Once the wars were over and the Astraleids left, Lady Awynyth brought the scattered Disciples together and created the Order. We vowed never to let the secrets of the Astraleids outside the walls of the cathedrals and to keep facilities, like this one, safe until their return. They became a myth for those outside the Order, and we began to believe that they would never return. But we kept our vow even after Awynyth died many hundreds of years ago.’

They stood in silence for a while. Subeya needed time to reflect on everything that was explained to her. Everything she knew about the Astraleids and The Order had changed, and she had to look at it from a new perspective. As she thought about it, more questions came to her mind. ‘What about Zov’ha, then? Who is she?’

‘With the return of the half-Astraleid there is hope,’ Anandil sighed, turning away from the view of the lake. She leaned over the balustrade and crossed her hands, staring at the dark-tiled floor. ‘There is hope that we may be able to Ascend once again. There is hope that humans may shed their broken, decrepit bodies and rise to become Astraleids. The Divine Purge left the world in shambles. If the Astraleids return, there is a chance for the resurrection of the human race. Records tell us of Starchild Zov’ha’s birth in Asenya.’ 

‘Does that mean… the Astraleids survived up there? In the orbital city? And came back down to Asenya recently?’ 

‘It burns my ire to think that they approached that heathen country first, rather than come straight to their Disciples,’ Anadil replied, a bit of her previous scorn reappearing on her face. ‘It matters not. Starchild Zov’ha seems to have lost her memories, but I feel our path ahead is under her leadership. I have gone through the records here, and it sheds light on some blasphemous acts by the Council of Breeders in Xerbia.’ 

Subeya did not reply. She knew that Anadil was planning something, probably something as untoward as raining hell upon the Asenyans. But there was the Ghost to worry about for now. They stared at the expanse of Rud’vyr silently for a long while. Subeya wanted to spend more time exploring the Terra Vinculum instead of going off again to chase the Ghost, whatever it was.

‘Subeya,’ Anandil said at last. ‘I fear I need your help again. The Ghost remains a threat, and I’m certain that Starchild Zov’ha can help us with it.’ 

‘What’s your plan, boss?’ 

‘First, we need to know more about our Goddess. Join me when I speak to her tomorrow,’ she said, placing a hand on Subeya’s broad shoulder. ‘I have a feeling you and the Starchild will get along well.’ 

The monks escorted Zov’ha to what looked like an amphitheatre with a high ceiling and an oversized dias. Upon the platform was placed a single throne made of some calcified material, the seat of which looked strangely like flesh. One of the monks bowed very low before saying, ‘Your place for your meeting with the Abbess, My Goddess.’ 

‘I’m not sitting on a throne,’ Zov’ha replied shakily. She was not sure if it was just the strangeness of the place or the medication she had taken to recover, or both, but she was apprehensive of everything that had happened since she had woken up two days ago. 

They called her a ‘Goddess’ and said she was an Astraleid. They spoke to her in deference and answered her every beck and call. Who were these people? They called her Zov’ha, not Zovhara. And the dream she had about… Yar’cax. She remembered, yes… I am Zov’ha. A half-Astraleid. Was it just a dream? Or are my memories finally coming back? Captain of the Duskwatch. Daughter of Councillor Svao. The drugs, the parties, the military training. It had all come rushing back. But she was not sure if any of it was real. Someone called Abbess Anandil Homa had come to visit her. The Abbess’ explanation of who Zov’ha was corroborated what she had seen in the dream. The Abbess also promised to show her records of her past… somehow stored in this Terra Vinculum.  

The monks had dressed her in scarlet overalls, similar to what they wore, but with richer embroidery. The curious triangular symbol she had seen on the inverted obelisk had been imprinted onto the front of the top piece of the dress. The long satin skirt had several godets allowing her to walk freely bare feet. 

‘My Goddess, would you prefer a bigger throne? It can easily be arranged,’ the monk bowed low again. 

‘No,’ Zov’ha gasped, feeling unpleasant about being so venerated. ‘I shall meet the Abbess wherever she is at the moment.’

The monk looked at the other escort, and they both looked quizzically at Zov’ha. ‘The Abbess is having her first meal of the day in the dining hall, Your Highness,’ said the second monk. ‘That’s far too ungodly a place for someone like yourself.’ 

Clearly unused to being treated this way Zov’ha fumbled, ‘I don’t… if you show me where to go I can find my way.’

Knowing that it was forbidden to resist the will of an Astraleid, the monks realised it was better to deal with the wrath of the Abbess for bringing Zov’ha to the dining hall than to deal with the wrath of an Astraleid, or the Order of Saint Awynyth. ‘Please, Your Highness, let us escort you to wherever you wish to go.’ 

Zov’ha acquiesced. After a long walk through the outlandish, twisted corridors they reached a large dining hall that had several rows of long tables. There were only two occupants who sat huddled in discussion. One of them was the Abbess that Zov’ha had seen before. Anandil jumped off her seat and immediately kneeled, ‘Starchild Zov’ha! I apologise on behalf of the sinful escorts for disobeying decree and for bringing you to these unconsecrated chambers!’ 

‘I asked them to bring me here,’ Zov’ha replied. ‘I mean… we can talk here.’ 

‘Your Highness,’ Anandil said, still kneeling. ‘It is a sacrament that Astraleids meet Disciples in the Inner Chapel.’ Zov’ha suddenly felt too weary to reply, and when she did not answer, Anandil continued, ‘However we can make an exception for you, My Lady. We would be grateful to eat as you hallow this hall with your graceful presence.’ 

Zov’ha noticed the other occupant was the giant Poban who had chased her through Urumoi. A sudden fear gripped her, and she vehemently looked away, afraid what might happen next. To her surprise it was the Poban who spoke, ‘I’m sorry about earlier, friend. I mean you no harm. Seems like there was a bit of a misunderstanding, that’s all. And I’m here to make up for it.’ Still seated, she threw up her hands amicably.   

Finally, Zov’ha thought, her spirits lifting, someone who was not treating her like a deity! She observed the giant from the entrance and for the first time realised that Subeya had an innocent countenance, even though her face was scarred and painted. Cautiously Zov’ha walked up to the table, more in need of a chair to sit on than anything else. She felt like she was losing her energy rather quickly and took her place opposite to, and slightly to the left of Subeya. The Abbess stood up and nodded for the monks to leave. They shut the door behind them. 

Neva’ar Drift had been activated after many years — he had sensed it on his way to Rud’vyr. There were no Astraleids left on the surface of the planet, except himself — which meant that the Terra Vinculum could only have been activated by a half-Astraleid… Zov’ha Svao.

Aekis had effortlessly programmed his Autoichorium to mimic the gills of the fish before diving into Lake Na’mel. The organic jelly-like mask that fitted on his mouth continued down to his neck and had three slits on either side of it — this layer of thick, dark, gelatinous pseudo-flesh allowed him to breathe as he swam at the bottom of the lake. Spontaneously turning his hands into fins, or growing a tail like the mythical mermen, to aid him in swimming faster was impossible — Autoichorium did not work that way. For achieving something that abominable, an Astraleid would have to go through years of metamorphosis and rebirth — and then the change was irreversible. Many Astraleids he knew had wasted their lives trying to perfect themselves based on such fantasies, but he never wanted to take that path.  

The gravel at the base of Neva’ar Drift vibrated lightly as Aekis rose from the lake, levitating briefly as he manoeuvred himself towards land. His gilled mask disintegrated and was reabsorbed by his body as he hastily patted himself dry. 

‘Scout ahead,’ he said aloud and in response a vapour-like mist materialised from the Autoichorium in his body, slowly coming together as it took the shape of a shadowy version of himself — a Replicant. It was taller than him, and its eyes glowed red. 

‘Aah,’ it growled brusquely in a baritone voice. ‘You think Zov’ha is inside…’

‘Stay hidden,’ Aekis commanded, wringing his long hair to drain it of water. ‘I plan to confront her myself.’ 

The shadow guffawed, ‘You know I can simply drag her out of there…’   

‘Silence!’ Aekis retorted with a measure of bluster. ‘Do as you’re told, Certificate.’

‘As you wish,’ the Replicant bowed, half-mockingly and disappeared into a shaft in a nearby wall.