‘Anuncia.’

Abe’s voice pulls me from my restless daydreaming, and I force myself to stop biting my nail. I sigh, trying to dispel my nervousness, to stem my anxiety. I can’t afford to waste energy on futile worries. I know nothing about what happened; all I can do is speculate, imagine the worst-case scenarios conjured by my own imagination. If I let my fears run free, they’ll soon start laying down their own law… And that, I cannot allow. I have to keep a clear head about all this. I look Abe straight in the eye, place a hand on his forearm, and nod knowingly.

‘Yes. Let’s go. No time to waste.’

Our footsteps echo through the vast corridors of the Asterion, all pink marble streaked with violet veins. Someone has opened the windows, and the sea breeze blows through the galleries, sometimes lifting the sheer curtains like rows of ghosts. For long weeks, the basileal palace had been in constant upheaval, preparing for the summit between the newly enthroned Basilissa and the Reka leaders—the so-called "Hexarchs." But the agitation has now given way to sepulchral silence, to the solitude of a tomb.

And beneath that apparent calm, something seems to be prowling, crouched like a predator foretelling disaster. The Expeditionary Corps had met the Reka. They had opened discussions with the people, begun drafting treaties and cooperation pacts… Everything seemed to be going perfectly. Then communications stopped. During the first few days, we blamed Tumult currents interfering with contact. But the silence dragged on. Annoyance turned into alarm; embarrassment into concern, then into stunned disbelief.

‘Do we know who he is?’

Abe raises an eyebrow.

‘Major Dimuri? He’s the—’

‘Admiral Singh’s second-in-command?’

Abenet nods. His face is grave. He doesn’t need to spell out that the presence of the second officer—here, alone—bodes ill.

‘He was commanding the VEA Concord, converted for the occasion into a mobile infirmary. I know he’s already spoken with the Basilissa. I also know… Nuncia, the news isn’t good. Something terrible happened.’

I give him an unyielding look, urging him to silence.

‘I want to hear it from him.’

Abe starts to object, then simply nods.

He hasn’t touched the langue-de-chat cookies, nor his tea, which must be lukewarm by now. His eyes are lowered, his hands clenched. A fresh compress has been placed against his cheek and temple. But it’s his complexion that unsettles me most: pale, sickly, as though he’s seen a ghost, as though he’s replaying the worst nightmares of the night in his mind.

‘So part of the fleet made it to the Screed, where the Concord was stationed…’

‘Af—after its previous damage, yes…’

The Major swallows and nods nervously, as if he wants the conversation to end, as if he wants to drive from his mind the thoughts replaying there on a loop like horror vignettes.

‘We transferred the wounded and the… contaminated onto the Concord to bring them back to Arkaster as quickly as possible. Those were my orders…’

‘And you carried them out to the letter, Major.’

He runs a hand over his face. I doubt Abenet’s words bring him much comfort. As for me, I stare at the lagoon—the languid mirror of the bay reflecting the clouds—while stopping myself from asking the single question that obsesses me in this moment.

‘Where is the rest of the Armada?’

My voice rings through the boudoir, sharper than I intended. The Major startles and blinks to steady himself.

‘Part… part of it stayed behind to cover our retreat. I was with the first evacuation wave, with the civilians and the scientific contingents. Armed units remained to cover the other waves. Last reports placed high command in the Pelagonian and Thessalian Quadrants, coordinating search and rescue operations…’

‘And the Exalts?’

His eyes close. He exhales slowly before reopening them.

‘One confirmed loss and many missing. Several were aboard the VEA Ulysses when it went down beneath the Tumult clouds…’

‘How many?’

‘At least fifteen…’

Abenet’s eyes widen.

‘Fifteen? Alterers and Alter Egos?’

Dimuri nods silently.

‘And my brother?’, I ask, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

‘He was among the survivors, Your Excellency.’

It feels as though a weight suddenly lifts from my chest. I look away to discreetly wipe my tears, pressing a hand against my ribs and tightening my diaphragm to keep the sobs from rising.

Abenet leans toward the officer.

‘Major, what happened in the Reka city?’

The officer fixes him with haggard eyes; his pupils convey unspeakable terror.

‘I can’t. Those are… classified details.’ His behavior grows more erratic. I place a hand on Abe’s shoulder to halt his questioning. ‘They were shared with the Basilissa. I…’

‘Forgive us. We completely understand. We…’

The Major grabs my mentor’s wrist, his knuckles whitening under the pressure.

‘We’re not ready,’ he manages to croak. ‘We are nowhere near ready…’

Despite the prohibition, the words had burst out of him on their own, like leaking water from a punctured wineskin. Even now, just remembering what he told us makes my hands tremble. My mind tries to reject his account outright.

Amaro places a caring hand at the back of my neck. I tense for a fraction of a second before my fingers settle over his.

‘We’re going to have to decide what to do about the refugees,’ he says softly, almost in a whisper.

I merely nod. That isn’t what’s occupying my thoughts. The Major spoke of a sudden surge of Tumult—but instead of the usual ideations, the Aether that rolled like a wave over the Reka capital was tainted, fouled by darkness, by corruption… He spoke of entities of pure malignancy, of dreadful plagues. He spoke of Eidolons contaminated and parasitized to the point of becoming monsters—grotesque parodies of themselves…

‘We have no choice but to take them in…’

Amaro rubs his forehead, visibly troubled.

‘I agree, but the final decision rests with the Basilissa.’

‘Advise her to open the gates of Caer Oorun to them. You have to insist. This population influx is an opportunity.’

Amaro studies me suspiciously.

‘You don’t want to do it yourself?’

I stand abruptly, grabbing my earrings as I head toward the bathroom. I can’t remain idle. Not now.

‘I have other matters to attend to.’

He smiles.

‘Very well. Keep your little secrets, and I’ll keep mine.’

I look at him with tenderness. I could contradict him, but I don’t. This isn’t about whispers or intrigue. I simply can’t sit back and do nothing. I need answers. I won’t find them here, nor even within the Monolith… Dimuri mentioned Yzmir agents deployed against the threat. If I want to shed light on what happened, I’ll have to flush out the Qorgan…

All I know is that we’re in complete darkness. And I hate nothing more than being kept in the dark.