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“Beggar the whole bounty for this chief prize.”

“The Eye is not a razor to be wielded by any man,” I say, taking a seat on the ground in exhaustion.

“I am not just any man. Would any man have such demons as I? Ajax, Atalantia, Atlas…”

“They were responsible for your stay in Deepgrave, I gather. But what of the source of all this? What of Darrow?”

“A kinship bonds all men betrayed, for they alone know the deepest breaking of the soul. In time, he must fall so I might rise. But what savvy butcher would loosen the vise that keeps his demons in thrall before their comeuppance comes due?”

“Then the answer is no.”

“No?” His laugh is beautiful and presumptuous.

“Atalantia and Atlas are not my enemies.”

“But Ajax is…after his betrayal?” How long has he followed me? I do not answer him. He chuckles to himself. “One is the father, the other the lover. They will choose Ajax. Without my aid, you will die here, seed of Lune. Without my aid, you will die anywhere.”

“I have no quarrel with you, Apollonius, but will not be bridled with a debt to you either.”

“Yet you begged me to aid you.”

“That was the boy inside. He is dead.”

“That was five minutes ago!”

“Are you the same you were then? Is Seneca?” He does not reply as I stand. “You sound hungry, Apollonius.” I do not feel stronger now than I did five minutes ago. I am no supreme being with a plan for escape. All I know is that there is more inside me than I knew. If I die, it will not be on my knees.

Menace enters his voice. “I could kill you now. I am not these men.”

“Yes. You could. But you won’t.”

The sand sighs as his mass steps forward. “Are you so sure, little seed?”

“Reasonably. Though we have never met, I know there is one thing Apollonius au Valii-Rath cannot resist.” I stand and cut the mission node from my neck and hold it out for him. Huge metal fingers take the device. “A good show.”

Apollonius stands in silence as I forage from the dead. I am far clumsier outside the Mind’s Eye, but I fear the toll it would take to sustain it. I may die in the desert, but if I took his offer, it would mean war against Atalantia and Atlas. I would give legitimacy to his faction against theirs. After Atalantia’s attempt to take Heliopolis, the Votum might come over to me just to spite her. After Seraphina’s death, the Rim might join Apollonius—they know his martial worth—or they might declare war on Atalantia if my testimony is…accusatory regarding Seraphina’s death.

I could ruin Atalantia if I went with Apollonius.

But what would that do to Gold? She is apparently our best tactician, and despite Ajax’s cruelty, despite her capricious vanity, I still love her as family. Ajax’s treachery may still be his own. Moreover, Gold cannot afford that divide. Just as the worlds cannot afford a man who wrecks a planet simply to win a battle.

I may not be what I thought I was. This world itself may just be a maze without a center. But I will not wait to die. I will not wait to be bridled by another. I will go forward as I see fit.

I stand waiting for Apollonius to stop me after I’ve taken all I need from the dead Golds. When he does not, I reach for Seneca’s gravBoots. They are gone. Apollonius chuckles.

“You don’t get everything you want, little seed.” He picks some choice items from my haul for himself. “A good show, says the hopeful autarch.” He pats my head. “Even if you survive this walk, you can never best Darrow, if that is your intent. He would climb up your blade to chew upon your jugular. To best a living god, it is not enough to survive, nor to eat of the ambrosia of conquest. Who would follow a churlish princeling over that Slave made War? After all, you have no sense of theater.” He claps me on the shoulder so hard my teeth rattle. “Enjoy your walk. I will be watching.”

I walk north, blind, but blinded no more.

Uncertain of where I go, but certain of one thing. Ajax abandoned me to the enemy. He tried to kill me, Darrow tried to kill me, Seneca tried to kill me, the desert tried to kill me, but I am still here. Pain the only proof I am not yet dead. Be it one of anguish or joy, my life is mine. I have earned it back.

And I have no intention of wasting it.

THE BURNER’S ON ITS last legs as I tap it over the railing to see the ash spiral down. I’ve done my bit and submitted a full tactical brief regarding how the skuggi could neutralize much of Quicksilver’s mine security. Now I watch the braves prepare in the gymnasium of the Heart of Venus and marinate in the guilt of being complicit to genocide.

I’m an old hand

at briefs—in the legions, as an investigator. They sit in digital folders and gather electronic dust until they are deleted to cover the political ass of whatever high-up gave the contrary go. “All analysis supported my decision,” is their favorite line.