Anandil Homa’s dismissal had adversely affected the clerical decree that the Order of Saint Awynyth had held over Neva. Their covertness led to the spread of rumours, which travelled as far as Kalgez and other villages of Rud’vyr. The people of Neva were undeniably apprehensive. They gathered everyday at the cathedral’s courtyard, questioning the monks regarding the fate of their former Abbess. But after her silent departure from the city, her motives and whereabouts remained unknown. 

News of the skirmish with the “Ghost” had heightened the unrest. Whispers of a demi-deity, whom the people believed had been sent to protect them against the terrifying apparition by Lady Awynyth herself, was a popular conversation on the streets and pubs. Some said that this half-goddess even took the form of the enemy in order to fight it. Bards began writing lays, poets scribbled verses; doubtful historians, who had vowed to write only the truth, began taking notes for archival purposes. 

Some, who had seen the monks return in the dead of the night with a hovering gurney, swore that they had gotten a peek at their goddess. Some said she had six arms with long red claws, others said she had monstrous leather wings, and yet others said she was nothing but pure energy.  

The monks denied everything the populace hurled at them and finally broadcasted a message that said, ‘All will be revealed when His Holiness Archabbot Rubos arrives.’ 

Meanwhile, the Cathedral was closed to visitors — only the clergy were allowed within. Zov’ha had spent five days in the automated surgical station that diagnosed and treated her injuries. The reports from the machine had shown conflicting analytics, baffling even the well-renowned physicians of Neva.   

After the Abbess’ departure she had been relocated to the Divine Chamber on the highest floor of the Cathedral, where she lay asleep within a life-support capsule. A spider-like med bot had been attached to the left side of her skull, where the pellet had pierced. 

This med bot had six long legs that were wrapped around her cheek, chin, and the back of her head. The body of the bot covered the partially shaved site of injury on the left side of her head, protecting the sutures and constantly monitoring her brain activity. 

Other robotic arms within the capsule hovered around her, ready to provide emergency defibrillation, dialysis, or other medical support. 

Pink light filtered in through the stained-glass windows of the Divine Chamber as the summer sun set lazily. It cast a dull refraction of spectral hues on the makeshift workstation that Marana and Sinovan had set up. They had taken it upon themselves to analyse Zov’ha’s condition by constantly monitoring her day and night. Battling sleep with caffeine pills, they stayed up as long as they could, digging deep into the reports the workstation hurled at them. 

‘What do we do now?’ Subeya crooned. She sat beside the capsule that Zov’ha occupied. She longed to hold the half-Astraleid’s hand that was tiny compared to her own. 

Friar Dew stood at the edge of the capsule, eyebrows knitted in thought. He was fiddling with his mechanical left arm, like he always did when he was tense. ‘If the Abbess were here she would surely have relocated Starchild Zov’ha to Neva’ar Drift.’

‘Then why don’t we?’ Subeya straightened, a half-smile creasing her lips with the slightest hint of hope.   

‘Archabbot’s orders,’ Friar Dew scowled. ‘He arrives early tomorrow.’ 

Subeya shook her head and sighed. She was not used to so much bureaucracy. Kalgez, her home, was a chaotic Chiefdom. Reforms happened overnight and none questioned their Chief’s council. The diplomatic order she witnessed in Neva was quite different. 

Rising from the chair that seemed insufficient for her size, she stretched and walked over to the workstation. Five screens displayed graphs and dots showing Zov’ha’s brain activity, vital signs, and other data. One of them had an orange graph line that looked like whatever it was monitoring was extremely high. ‘What’s that spike?’ 

‘Med bot’s readins’,’ Marana swallowed a yawn and leaned on Subeya’s tree-trunk-sized thigh as she neared. ‘It’s her oxytocin level. Been high for hours…’ 

‘What’s ox… ox-toes-in?’ 

‘Oxytocin! It’s a hormone. It’s a chemo released durin’ sexual activity, childbirth, ‘n all,’ she said, turning towards Subeya and giving her a naughty wink.

‘What?’ Subeya barked. ‘Zov’ha’s pregnant?’ 

‘Of course not,’ Friar Dew barked. He did not turn towards them, but continued staring at his Goddess. ‘Astraleids don’t reproduce like humans. They can’t give birth naturally. It’s all done in laboratories. Their offspring are born in artificial wombs.’ 

‘Ugh…’ It was all too strange for Subeya, who thought even mechanical body parts were unnatural. But she refrained from saying anything since the most synthetically constructed human in the world was currently leaning against her. ‘Poor Zov! What a waste of effort during her time of the month!’ 

‘Astraleid women don’t experience menstruation,’ Friar Dew said stiffly. ‘Their system is entirely different.’

‘That’s awesome!’ Subeya clapped Marana’s back enthusiastically.

‘That sure explains a lot,’ Marana sat up straight, suddenly realising where her research seemed to be going wrong. Minutes passed as she dug through a week’s worth of information. She was so engrossed in her work that she forgot that she was having a conversation. 

‘So…’ Subeya said finally, dragging the word till Marana shook her head and looked up. ‘What does the… oxen-tossin’ spike mean?’ 

‘Hmmm...’ Marana was now confused more than ever. 

‘Is she having an orgasm?’ Subeya turned to observe Zov’ha’s expression, which was neutral. ‘It’s been hours! I’m jealous.’ 

‘Nu’uh,’ Marana pulled up other reports, both ongoing and past. ‘Looks like she’s… just bein’ flooded with the good stuff. Serotonin, dopamine… they’re all up! She’s… happy!’

‘At least, one of us is,’ Subeya said, greeting Sinovan with an upwards nod as he came hobbling into the chamber, staring cross-eyed at the stats projected by his fancy tech hat. 

‘The primary report from the surgical station is here… finally!’ he barked. ‘I’m sending it to our system to correlate with the data we have so far.’ 

‘Gotcha,’ Marana downed half a pint of ale. ‘Imma catch some shut-eye if nothing shows.’   

One of Marana’s screens displayed Zov’ha’s cerebral scan. It spun slowly as she gave it a whirl with her finger. 

Friar Dew turned around and tottered towards the screens. ‘There’s the pellet,’ he said pointing at a bright red dot. It had embedded itself at the periphery of Zov’ha’s left temporal lobe. Surrounding the pellet was a mass of dark substance. It was darker, closer to the pellet, and lighter and distributed at the borders. ‘What in Lady Awynyth’s name is that?’ 

‘I dunno,’ Marana swiped the screen to see more scans the system had taken over the period of a week. ‘But… looks like it’s gettin’ stacked.’ Clearly, the dark substance that surrounded the pellet seemed to be fanning outward, spreading within Zov’ha’s left brain intrusively, expanding every hour. 

‘That… looks like Autoichorium,’ Sinovan mumbled, staring at the screen quizzically. 

‘Nonsense!’ yelped Friar Dew. ‘Autoichorium can’t enter the brain! The biomolecular bots that make up Autoichorium are too big to pass through the blood brain barrier!’ 

‘Hell yeah it can if a pellet tunnell’d through her skull first,’ Marana said. ‘Must’ve gushed in when she was shot. Wherever that oozy-shit came from, it sure made ma girl’s head it’s home.’  

‘What does the system read?’ Sinovan gestured to the labelling that was in Aewylen. 

The three of them turned to Friar Dew, who glanced apprehensively at them before peering into the screen. ‘It says “unknown.”’

‘Friar, your scans detected a surge of Autoichorium when you reached the site,’ Sinovan moved closer to the workstation, his dark eyes fixed on Friar Dew. ‘Which suddenly disappeared into the wilderness. Was that the Ghost? What came of that?’

‘Inconclusive,’ Friar Dew sighed. ‘We’re still working on that. But if I had to guess, this unknown substance probably came from the pellet when she was shot!’ 

‘It’s clearly Autoichorium,’ Sinovan said defiantly. ‘Look at the structure…’ 

‘What I want to know is who shot her!’ Subeya cracked her knuckles, enraged with the thought of the craven assassin. She half-suspected it to be one of the monks, but she kept her thoughts to herself.  

‘Aight, settle down y’all!’ Marana intervened. There were too many unknowns at the moment but saving Zov’ha took priority. ‘First off… Let’s stop Zov from becomin’ a fruit! The goop’s growin’ and we don’t want it takin’ over her entirely. What do ya’ll reckon?’ 

‘To start with,’ Sinovan said, nodding towards Marana for approval, ‘we need to conduct a corpus callosotomy.’ 

‘A what-what-a-tummy?’ Subeya looked utterly confused. 

‘Split brain surgery,’ Friar Dew interjected. ‘We need to slice the layer of tissue that connects the right side of her brain to the left. That way we can keep the substance contained to the left brain.’ 

‘Good thinkin’ Sin! It’s gotta work for now,’ Marana stood up, ready for the new challenge. ‘I’ll go get…’ 

‘No!’ Friar Dew leaned forward and grabbed Marana’s human hand. ‘Not until the Archabbot arrives!’ 

‘What? Why?’ 

‘I have orders,’ Friar Dew was stubborn. He let go of Marana respectfully and stepped back. ‘Nothing and no one can touch Starchild Zov’ha until he arrives with his coterie.’ 

‘But no one’s gonna touch her,’ Marana protested. ‘The job ain’t invasive. ‘Imma send a surgical micro-bot up her nose holes! It’s gonna crawl its way up her skull… give it an hour of snippy-snippy, and we’re done!’ 

‘Yeah, Friar!’ Subeya moved her bulk in front of the monk threateningly ‘Give us an hour of snippy-snippy! You know the Abbess would’ve done the same!’ 

‘Former Abbess!’ Friar Dew scowled, standing with his hands crossed. ‘I’m sorry! There’s nothing we can do until the Archabbot arrives tomorrow! Rules are rules!’

‘Screw d’ rules, monk!’ Marana shrieked. ‘Ya wanna lose Zov by t’morrow? Do ya want that? Huh? Do you wanna be the monk who killed his goddess?’ 

Friar Dew walked backwards to the door where he had stationed guards. Where he felt safe. ‘I have to ask all of you to leave…’ he said, eyeing them as the door slid open. ‘Please!’ 

Marana scoffed, stamped her foot wrathfully, and exited. Subeya glared at the monk as she made her way out along with Sinovan.