The more the slimy mound of Autoichorium wiggled to take form, the harder Efiros held it down. Now, with both forepaws pushing the creature down, he growled, drooling over his captive. 

Lithely hopping off the bear, Zov’ha narrowed her eyes at the strange looking man, ‘I thought all the Astraleids left for Orbita Cygnus. What are you doing here?’ 

‘That... is a tale for another time,’ Aekis replied, choosing his words carefully. ‘First, we need to dispel this Sentinel.’ 

‘You’ve done this before?’ 

‘I have,’ said Aekis, taking one step back as she approached him. He heard Certificate’s soft growl, ready to pounce at the slightest threat. ‘But the Sentinel I dispelled was not rogue. I defeated it, and it agreed to become a part of me. I named it, nurtured it. It lives in me. It is a Replicant. However…’ Aekis briefly shut his bright blue eyes, ‘...you will deal with this one alone.’

‘Me? On my own?’ Zov’ha’s expression turned sour. ‘I’m not a true-Astraleid. I don’t have an Exaglia.’ 

‘But you have a memory seal,’ Aekis returned, pointing towards the round stone pendant that was dangling from Efiros’ rope collar as he was biting and subduing the globular Sentinel.  

Zov’ha had forgotten about the pendant. She remembered finding the oval-shaped stone at the bottom of her backpack on her first day in Aeroz. It was black and shiny and had an indecipherable symbol carved on its flat side. She had made a pendant out of it for Efiros that he had worn proudly around his neck ever since. As he grew bigger, she had adjusted the length of the ropes that served as his collar so that it would not strangle him. 

‘A memory seal?’ She narrowed her eyes, an unexplainable angst burning through her like a stoked flame. ‘Is this where all my memories are?’

‘Not yours,’ Aekis said bluntly. ‘Your mother’s. Your sister’s. Your ancestor’s. They are not just memories. They are experiences. You can live and learn through them. Astraleid children don’t study… they experience life through memories. Sometimes all at once.’

My mother… and… I have a sister? 

Up until now Zov’ha had not given much thought to her family. She believed she had always lived alone… an orphan — abandoned by the Astraleids before they left for Orbita Cygnus. Why they disowned her — her only guess was that because she was half-human. 

The records of her life in Asenya that she had found in Neva’ar Drift mentioned nothing about her kin, except that her mother’s name was Zura… Zura the Forty-Fifth. Zov’ha was the seventh daughter. Of course, she had siblings! Her sister… All of a sudden a name found its way to the tip of her tongue.

‘Zy’heria,’ she mouthed. That’s my sister’s name. And then she remembered the man in front of her. Aekis. ‘I remember you.’ Her gaze was intense. ‘You’re the one who took my sister away!’ 

‘She walks her own path,’ came the reply almost immediately. It was as if he had expected to have this conversation with her. ‘Now, you must choose yours.’ 

‘Why?!’ Zov’ha shrieked, infuriated. ‘Why should I choose now? You all abandoned me! Why should I care to do as you say?’ 

Aekis’ expression was impassive, but Zov’ha knew she had struck a nerve. Shadowy fumes emerged from his body, and the dark veins around his face began discolouring his pale skin with dark blood, like drops of ink diffusing in water. But he made no move. He said nothing. For a whole minute there was a silence between them so deafening that even Efrios’ growls seemed to drown away; as if they were underwater. 

‘Fine,’ Zov’ha huffed, when she was getting no reply. Her words were hot, like a heated iron from a blacksmith’s fire. ‘I will vanquish the Ghost… but once this is over I want nothing to do with you!’ Taking a deep breath she turned towards the bear to retrieve the memory seal. Curling her fingers around the smooth surface of the stone, she turned towards Aekis, ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’

Aekis’ expression did not show how he felt, but he was himself perplexed by the range of emotions that were roiling within him. His mouth was dry, no matter how much he swallowed, and he felt shame, longing, and pity all at once, so much so that his body became hot and his head felt light. He was nervous, and he wanted to disgorge everything he wanted to say to her but could not; that he had come back for her; that she was not alone; that it was not he who had abandoned her… 

But his Astraleid-side got the better of him. He swallowed and said plainly, ‘The relic contains archived autoichorium. Speak to it… in Aewylen. Command it. It will show you how our ancestors dispelled Sentinels. But be very specific. The amount of experiences it carries would overwhelm you.’

‘Hold steady, Efy,’ Zov’ha whispered, trying to find the knot that held the collar together. 

Ancestral Astraleid experiences… by accepting to do this, she would leave her past life behind and take her first step into becoming an Astraleid. Her hands shook as she undid the knot that had tightened over time. Should I be doing this? 

The stone was cold as she slid it out of the ropes. Cupping it in both her hands she closed her eyes to think of the right phrase to use, but the skirmish between the bear and the blob next to her was distracting. She opened her eyes. Aekis was still waiting, his gaze fixed on her. She held out the stone to him, ‘you do it.’ 

‘That seal belongs to your family,’ he crossed his hands and stepped back as if he was forbidden to touch the seal. ‘It will not answer my call. Besides… The rogue Sentinel will corrupt my Autoichorium. You possess none, so you should be safe.’ 

‘Am I going to turn the Sentinel into a…’ Zov’ha paused to recall the word he had used. ‘Replicant?’ 

‘Maybe,’ was his response. ‘I don’t know how Omnichorium works. I don’t know what will happen. But my best guess is that your Omnichorium will be able to completely dispel it. Worst case… you get your own Replicant.’  

‘But I don’t want one!’ 

‘It’s the only way to rid ourselves of this menace!’ Aekis barked impatiently. The blob had the upper hand now as Efiros struggled to pull away from its slimy grasp. He was sinking into it like quick sand as its mass grew into a vast puddle. ‘If it becomes a Replicant, I promise I will teach you how to nurture it.’ 

Zov’ha contemplated his words, twirling it in her mind, as if she were rinsing spiced wine in her mouth, trying to decipher hidden flavours. So… what I have is in fact Omnichorium. This corroborated Anandil’s investigation. Zov’ha felt a sense of satisfaction, now. With Aekis around, all her fears and doubts could be managed. She suddenly regretted being so abysmally rude towards him. Her scowl softened, and she looked at him piteously.  

‘I’ll do it…’ she mumbled, stepping back from the growing puddle of blackness. 

The bear was whimpering now, squirming and trying to pull himself away from the monstrous slime. Iridescent, glowing bright green and electric blue as it expanded, the rogue sentinel was multiplying its Autoichoirum — a last resort. 

Wasting no more time, she cupped the stone in her hands once again and said in Aewylen, “Show me how I can dispel this Sentinel.”

The seal flashed with a bright blue light, but only for a moment. The symbol etched on the stone that was unrecognisable earlier swiftly took form. Zov’ha could only guess what she saw — an icon of a woman with enormous wings; her arms spread out, and her legs suspended as if she was levitating.  

Zov’ha shut her eyes from the flash but the afterimage of the winged-lady persisted. When she opened her eyes again, it was gone. And the seal remained dormant.    

That was it. Only a flicker. She had expected more. A vision, or an experience. Nothing. 

The red crosshairs visible through the scope of the scout’s membranous eyewear were focussed steadily on the white-haired woman. Crouched on a branch of a soaring birch, silently she watched. 

The commotion on the mesa had alerted the Zylalong, who had been patrolling the southern foothills of Urumoi, and she had travelled a great distance to witness the event, ending up scouting far beyond her designated route. 

Her frail build and lissome limbs had allowed her to jump nimbly from one branch to another, making it to the mesa in very little time. A bionic prehensile tail, which emerged from the small of her back, had provided further assistance.

It was surprising to see Zov’ha here, so far away from Neva. But what was even more astonishing was the presence of an Astraleid… Aekis. 

‘What’re you doing in the down-down, wolf-boy?’ she said in an undertone. 

Her gaze shifted to the magnificent elken bear who was struggling to hold down a blob of… Autoichoirum? Strange. She squinted, her eyewear automatically zoomed in and adjusted to focus — taking in every detail of the dramatic scene. 

Her green eyes were shadowed by a headdress that was made from the skull of a large feral beast, and at the back, a felt strip decorated with thick red fur tapered down to her waist. Lustreless, unkempt copper-coloured hair peeped out from under the headdress, cascading over the sharp features of her face; only her pointy nose poked out of it. She bore neither markings nor tattoos, but pale patches of vitiligo adorned her entire body, contrasting with her chestnut-coloured skin. 

Her attire was vapid — a beige bandeau and a breechcloth. Her hands and legs were protected by gloves and boots with furry cuffs. Leather wraps around her arms housed a plethora of devices. A bio-engineered moondial hung from her waist, which she peeked at every now and then; there was still time to spare. So what if she was a bit late? The Chief would find her report very amusing.   

Two daggers with opaline blades were secured in holsters that were strapped around each of her thighs — her most favoured weapons. An unstrung wooden recurve bow, whose grip was made of the same opaline material, lay beside her. From a pouch that hung around her waist, she fished out a steel pellet. She beamed as it came away without a sound, and she fiddled with it. 

At a distance, Zov’ha took a step towards Aekis. His expression was calm, but his posture betrayed his apprehension. Picking up the bow, the Zylalong scout placed the pellet on the thumb of her bow hand. Drawing the invisible string with her dominant hand, she took aim. 

“Tug-tug,” she whispered in Aewylen. In a flash, the pellet produced a long, shadowy shaft, becoming a shiny dark arrow, which she gripped with the thumb and index finger of her dominant hand. A dark, iridescent string, taut and ready, materialised from the tips of the bow.   

Taking aim, she waited and watched. Her thin lips parted to reveal a toothy smile, ‘This’ll be moony.’