Moonlight. Desultory melodies from distant stars. One shines brighter than the others. Intricate patterns now coming together to form coherent arcs. Home. Moonlight, and a clear ringing howl from his throat. The signs! 

Howling like a wolf. He doesn’t care if his throat is parched. Only anticipating an answer. The moon in the sky. The radiant stars. And the call of the wild. Amongst wolves. Amongst friends. These are his dreamsigns. 

I awaken. His voice is cracked from the howling. He takes a deep breath, and then a plunge. Swaying, as if he were nothing but a leaf in the wind, he dashes through the wilderness. I’m being hunted. It is no predator that follows his scent, but a nightmarish past. Tree trunks crowded with creepers, stones marred with claw marks, moss and dust; there is no end to this strangulating wilderness. And then, a light through the trees. 

Squirming out through the closing gaps he is now in the open. Nothing but an ashen wasteland. No, no! How can this be? 

He touches the nearest tree trunk with invisible hands. Nothing. Now, he knows. The hunt has ceased. Turning towards the moonlit expanse, now there is soft grass. At last. The final dreamsign. 

A voice of another shatters the silence. A young one. She beckons, you must find her... She is alone and afraid. Bring her back, Aekis!

He says, as if unintentionally, she is not a true Astraleid. She will not be accepted by the others. And then realises, he has said this before. A memory. 

She is not human either. She does not belong in Asenya.

And as if his tongue and jaw were beyond his control, his voice rings as clear as the toll of a temple bell, if I cross the veil now, I will never return. The way will be shut forever.

To his dismay, a thousand voices chanted in unison, this is true.

Another voice. More certain than the others. An elder. If you leave now. You cannot come back.

Sunlight. Cacophonic chattering from distant stars. But one resounds louder than the others. Intricate patterns now coming together to form leathery wings. Zy’heria. Sunlight, and a clear voice from within a cocoon. 

She beckons, you must find her, Aekis. She is alone and afraid. She is my sister… and I miss her. 

A thousand voices resound, the way will be barred! He cannot leave.

The elder crows, let him leave. Then Aekis, follow the trail of the white fox. 

The sun and the moon dwindle. Blinded, he seeks the voice of the young one. Zy’heria! She will not heed my words. 

My seal. Take it. Her whispers fade as darkness engulfs him. 

The shadow that emerged from the vents did not startle Aekis, but it did break his sleep. Sitting cross-legged, he kept his eyes shut; it was better this way. He could visualise the continuous lines of code generated by his Autoichorium. He could slip in a command or two if he needed to.   Feeling the shadow draw nearer, he reached out with invisible tendrils and sensed the vaporous mist transform into his Replicant.

Aekis could have easily taken control of it, but he liked keeping it autonomous; it would, he hoped, evolve one day. It had already developed its own personality. Without the Replicant, he would probably have felt wholly lonesome in this world. 

Ensconced within a rundown pump room under the grand fortress of Neva’ar Drift, he was entirely aware of his surroundings. Cobwebs and dust covered every inch of the windowless chamber. A pipe leak, a continuous dripping sound, somehow gave him a sense of tranquillity. 

Aekis could sense a large concentration of Autoichorium from the floating fortress above, but he dared not reach out. Other than his presence being detected, he was worried about any adverse effects it would have on him — it had been many years since he had been around so much of it. He kept a safe distance. His Replicant, Certificate, had means to mask itself from being detected using an encrypted shell, and hence, was the perfect scout. 

‘You may speak,’ Aekis said, retaining his meditative demeanour. 

‘She’s alright. But she has changed,’ replied the Replicant in its sibilant, baritone voice. 

‘Changed?’ Aekis continued calmly, enunciating his words, ‘changed how?’ 

‘When she was imprisoned in Asenya, just before her trial I had shared a bit of my Autoichorium to keep her safe.’

‘I remember,’ Aekis voiced, the slightest of creases besmirching his eyebrows. 

‘It has evolved, and it has multiplied,’ Certificate concluded, coiling up next to Aekis and assuming the same pose as him. 

‘What?!’ Aekis barked, now showing a rather un-Astraleid-ly act of great acrimony as he jumped up and scowled and frowned and kicked Certificate, who was delicately seated in mock meditation. ‘What do you mean evolved and multiplied?! She is part human! She cannot control Autoichorium! She has no Exaglia!’

‘All very good points,’ Certificate continued, undisturbed, imitating Aekis as he had been a minute ago. ‘Regardless, she has turned into something else.’ 

Outraged, Aekis grabbed his shadowy form by the scruff of its collar, and hissed grudgingly, ‘Cut the comedy! Tell me, what has happened to her?’

Locked face-to-face with his master, Certificate sighed, ‘Her blood contains Omnichorium, Aekis! Stable Omnichorium!’ 

‘That’s impossible!’ Aekis let go of the Replicant and threw up his hands exasperated. Certificate was about to say something, but he shushed it with a click of his tongue. The Terra Vinculum had been activated days ago, but there was still no contact with Orbita Cygnus. He had to be sure none of them were listening. Silence. Then he whispered, ‘How do you know this?’

Even though Certificate was usually whimsical, Aekis could always detect when it was concerned or disturbed. Morosely, it then whispered, ‘I could smell it in her blood.’

The heat of summer clasped its infernal claws around the lands surrounding the crumbling fortress of Neva’ar Drift, but the rocky, arid landscape proved to be tenacious, unwilling to crack under the sun. With this heat came scorching dust storms. The fury of nature was perceivable from the grand walkways of the fortress, which over the period of three weeks turned into a theatre for the visitors — Abbess Anandil Homa, Subeya, and the monks. They would stop every now and then and observe the incessant act of devastation that was being performed below. 

Within the walls of the fortress, they were safe, but a reflection of the storm’s turmoil was detectable in the body and mind of their venerated goddess, Starchild Zov’ha. The first few days after her recovery had been peaceful, but a rather unpleasant illness had quickly consumed her, spiralling into fevers and bouts of agony. Anandil swore to vanquish her Goddesses’ ailments, beginning with a thorough perusal of the drone footage of Zov’ha before the hunt for the Ghost — sonographic data had shown dark spots in various parts of Zov’ha’s body. This analysis, which almost drove the Abbess into an impending madness, led to the discovery of microscopic crystals in Zov’ha’s blood that had escaped their medical scanners, but had shown up on her damaged Aerozan biochip. The research on the crystals continued at an accelerated pace for many weeks. The monks rested little and spent every minute they could spare in the laboratories of the fortress. What the crystals were, was a mystery. 

In the meanwhile, Subeya spent most of her time with Zov’ha. The facilities for Zov’ha’s care were well supplied, but there was nothing that could appease her most painful times. So Subeya sang lays and laments that she remembered from her childhood, which gave Zov’ha some consolation. 

The effects of Zov’ha’s illness were evident by the changes in her body and in her moods. Stone-spikes crowned her head at times, then disappeared in a few hours. At other times her fingers grew into claws spilling dust and blood. Her fangs tore her lips and her tongue lolled to one side. Whenever any of this happened, she would either laugh uncontrollably, or howl in excruciating pain. Subeya was there, either holding her close till she felt the symptoms slide away, or holding her down if she got too destructive or maniacal. 

However, over time, the symptoms seemed to subside and occur more infrequently. Recovering slowly, Zov’ha went on many walks with Subeya. Their bond had hardened to a close friendship like bricks in a kiln, and any misgivings from the past had been cast aside amicably. 

Zov’ha had read about records of her past life in Asenya, but most of it felt like someone else’s story. Whatever little she remembered she shared with Subeya, who in return told stories about her misbegotten life. 

Even though Zov’ha got along with Subeya, there were times she felt the need to escape, to be outside, alone. They were stuck in the fortress until the dust storms abated. She missed Efiros greatly, vowing that the first thing she would do when the storms ended was to head straight into the Urumoi wilderness and look for the bear that she had left in the cave.   

And one day, after two months of their arrival at Neva’ar Drift, the storms cleared. The sun that had been veiled behind a curtain of dust, now shone brightly in the sapphire sky. And Zov’ha finally managed to escape. Getting a hold of an old hoverbike in the parking base, she took the lift from the bottom of the tower to the land below and sped off towards Neva.  

The highway that led from the fortress to the citadel in Neva had sunken in many places — but it was nothing that a hoverbike could not handle. Racing down, in the afternoon sun, was exhilarating, but Zov’ha could sense something was out of place. Guilt for not heeding Abbess Anandil Homa’s cautionary words about the wild folk that lived in the remains of the cities below? No, she did not care if the whole Order warned her about the perils that awaited her outside of the fortress. She needed this freedom. She needed to see Efiros and know that he was alright. Subeya had offered to tag along, but Zov’ha had refused —  intending to see this through alone.

On both sides of the fractured highway were ruins — the quarters of the Disciples that were once the workforce of the Terra Vinculum. Zov’ha took several detours, as the highway was blocked with debris at many junctions. In the absence of civilization, palms and cacti had taken over, and a strong smell of burning dust hung in the air. There was no sight of the wild folk, who were probably still hiding from the dust storms, or had likely abandoned these lands. 

Between districts, she found herself driving through vast expanses of arid, cracked land. The highway had all but disappeared where the fabric of the desert had taken over. But after what seemed like an hour of riding, Zov’ha could finally see the dilapidated bridge to Neva. Aware of the swirling sands around her, a premonition of another dust storm, Zov’ha sped ahead. The white citadel shone brilliantly on the horizon. 

A burning pain stung her left hand, and upon examining it, she saw sandy spikes emerge. No… not now! Every time this happened, she would shut her eyes and see some sort of continuous lines of code running amok in her mind. She had controlled it before, outside Efiros’ cave, before the chase… but now it seemed impossible. Whatever was within her, had complete control of her. It was trying to dominate her, and no matter how much she begged and pleaded, it would continue to simmer, dissipating only when it wanted to. 

Bringing the bike to a halt at the nearest town’s crossroads, she alighted and headed for cover. Amongst all the collapsed structures, there stood one building that was still sturdy and looked like it used to be a walled marketplace. But before she could make her way across, she sensed that she was being watched. Squinting in every direction, and occasionally moaning in pain that came from various parts of her body, Zov’ha staggered towards the marketplace. 

One by one they emerged around her — the wild folk that she had been warned about, the ancestors of the disciples that had been left to fend for themselves; those who had decided to stay, rather than start a new life in Neva or Kalgez. By the time she reached the gates of the market, she was surrounded by filthy, smelly beings — lawless men, women, and even children. They were neither Calcars, nor Poban, nor any other subspecies she could imagine. So disfigured were they that she thought she was imagining them. They came from the windows and doors and even from the gate of the marketplace. They had blunt weapons, their intentions quite clear — they were hungry. 

Putting her hands in front of her, as a means to warn them that she could take them out in one fell swoop, she mumbled, ‘stay back… for your own good.’ 

But a cornered prey like her was irresistible to them. They inched closer as her legs buckled and she fell to one knee — the pain was now overwhelming. Some of the wretches, now more confident, approached her with blunt iron rods and stones. A tall one — he licked his lips and sniffed the air around her. As he reached out to her, a terrifying howl ululated through the town, petrifying them all. Eyes darting in every direction, the tall man caught sight of a great shadowy wolf racing towards them in leaps and bounds from the rising dust storm. Without warning it pounced and grabbed the man’s legs between its colossal jaws, and then shaking its big head, as if tearing a piece of meat from a carcass, it flung the terrified wildman away. The rest of the wild folk scattered, and those who stayed were chased away by the appearance of more regular-sized black wolves. 

When they had all dispersed, the wolves gathered at the feet of their big shadowy leader, who was seated next to Zov’ha, guarding her. She was gaining consciousness again but was not aware of the wolves behind her. All she had noticed were two glowing blue eyes of a figure emerging from the dust before blacking out. She would have hit her face on the gravel if Aekis had not rushed to catch her in time. 

‘She could’ve taken them all down… she knew it,’ bellowed the great wolf. 

‘And yet, she didn’t,’ came Aekis’ reply. Something stirred in him as he said those words. It felt like a lifetime had passed since the last time he had been so close to Zov’ha. Besotted with the nearness of her delicate countenance, the touch of her skin as he held her hand, and her earthly fragrance, he let out a sigh and laid her down gently.

‘She writhes in agony,’ the wolf continued. ‘Her Omnichorium is becoming unstable. She may be in great peril. We should take her…’

‘Take her?!’ Aekis barked, despite himself. ‘Take her where? The gates of Orbita Cygnus are closed! The only one who can formulate any notion on how to drain out the Omnichorium has…’ He looked up at the great wolf, almost as if he was desperate, ‘... has disappeared.’ 

‘Zov’ha is too powerful. Even for you, Aekis,’ it reasoned. ‘Any memory of her past may aggravate her.’ 

‘Certificate,’ Aekis groaned, loath to let her go. ‘Take her back to the fortress. And do not linger… lest the disciples descry your presence.’