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“I’m going to bed,” I say, blearily. Gallien, sensing me coming, walks out of the command center, or as June calls it “the eagle’s nest,” the separate, wooden oval structure which is attached to our main home by a covered pathway. I run my hand over the new wood of our walls, looking around our home. It’s already cluttered. There were so many housewarming gifts, wedding presents, and things from my childhood home that we had to donate three things for every one we kept. Gallien puts his hand around my waist protectively, escorting me up the stairs to the main bedroom.

Three massive beds fill the room. They take turns being the one to sleep next to me, though the honor is dubious, considering how often I get up to pee. I clamber gratefully into bed, pulling the covers up, and Gallien sits at the base silently, softly massaging my feet. “I’ll get you some water,” he says, after a few minutes, and returns with a mug full of warm water.

“Go on, they are waiting for you,” I say blearily. He gives me a kiss on the forehead and leaves, his footsteps soft on the stairs.

“It’s going to be a hard road.” Bruton’s voice. I could tune them out. Before the Bond enhanced my senses, they would have only been a muffled mumble. Now, I can hear each word clearly. As tired as I am from the huge meal, my parents constantly stuffing me, I can’t quite relax, not yet. They might need my input. “Branded Fanatics slinking away into Wild Space, the hardest of them leading dozens of triads. It’s an age of warlords now.”

“This is because of the restriction on Orb-Shifting,” says Cal, his constant source of complaining. “I’ve said my analysis before. I’ll say it again. The common thread of the prophecies was that Obsidian must take the throne. Why? It’s obvious. His only ability is to navigate through the Rift without alerting the... entities.”

We’re still not quite sure what to call the things lurking in the darkness. Gaping maws, scales, endless rows of teeth.

“If we draw on Obsidian’s power, we can send squads of Aurelians and Mark-13s to hunt them down. Instead, we rely on conventional space travel, and we’re spread too thin.” Cal tries to keep his voice neutral. I can sense his frustrations boiling up. There’s no arrogance to him—he simply views himself as the smartest and thinks that if he just explains his positions clearly enough, everyone else will agree.

“No.” Doman’s voice now, commanding and intense. “The ban on Orb-Shifting remains. It will only be used for emergencies.”

“You’re plunging us into a dark age, Doman,” comes Cal’s sharp retort.

“A dark age. Perhaps. But I will not chance alerting the entities more than we already have. I’ve put a price on the headof any Aurelian who wears the brand. They will find few allies, and treacherous ones, at every turn.”

“The reach of our Empire is... under duress.” Bruton is diplomatic. “We’re relying more and more on the cyborgs to keep the peace. The threat of the Fanatics is finished, and the Toad Kingdom cowed, but the influx of Scorp is only growing.”

“Planets are balking at the taxes. They want to renegotiate,” adds the second of Bruton’s triad, Tarik.

“There will be no renegotiations. Not until we’ve ramped up production.”

I twist in bed, unsettled.“Careful, Doman. Humans don’t have the same timescales as you are used to. A decade may pass quickly for you, but for them, it’s an eternity.”

“We rely too much on these creations. They nearly took my head,” growls Bruton.

“That was before. When they were vulnerable to hacking. The new models are secure,” comes Cal’s voice, slightly annoyed. He’s the most involved in the production of the Cyborg models, working tightly with Bruton’s mate Evelyn, and he resents aspersions against the creations.

“I don’t trust them. No matter how helpful they were in the war. Damn it all, we need more Aurelians. I know. I know. Our population is growing for the first time in thousands of years, but it’s so slow...”

“There is no other choice. I will not start my reign with contraction. The Toads are cowering in their territories, now that they’ve seen the true power of the Planet-Killers. The legions of Obsidian are splintered. We fortify, we build our forces, and most of all, we project strength. No more talk of strategy for tonight. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” replies Bruton.

They say their goodbyes, and I hear them leave, feeling my calm return. Gallien comes in, and strips silently, sliding into bed with me. He doesn’t like anything between our skin, and he wraps his hands protectively around me, kissing the nape of my neck softly.

The beds creak as Doman and Titus take their places next to us.

I shift, uncomfortable in my own body.

“What is it?” says Gallien, sensing the discomfort in my aura.

“It’s the Rift. It unsettles me. I keep expecting something to happen, something terrible... but nothing does. Thosethings.They know we’re here.”

Gallien gently strokes my hair. “There are huge whales on Etherion. Whales that live millennia. They move slow, they think slow. Whatever those things in the Rift are, we don’t know if their lives are measured in centuries, millennia... or perhaps millions of years. I agree that they must have sensed the disturbance of the Black Death. But we don’t know their timelines.”

Somehow, it doesn’t comfort me. Enormous creatures in the Rift, who measure life by the millions of years.

Did we damn the universe, set in motion a ticking time bomb that will come due a million years hence?

Titus sits up in bed. The moonlight bathes his ivory body in a pale glow. “If they come, we will stop them. The new generations are born of the Bond, not pale echoes of those who came before. Whatever these things are, they are like any other. If they are alive, they can die. I promise you, my Mate. They will not break us.”

I search his aura, and those of the other two, for any sign of doubt. There is nothing but calm assurance.

Doman stands from bed, towering over me. “For now, we focus on what we can control. I will have Obsidian continuelooking into the Rift, under supervision. If there is any change there, we will be ready for it. The most important matter is eradicating the last of the Fanatics, growing our strength, and building the future.” He leans down and places a kiss on my belly. There’s a kick in response, and I know he’s not just talking about the future of the Aurelian Empire.