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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 head of 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. Those things. 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 continue looking 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.

I smile up at him, letting their calm assurance seep into my mind.

Whatever comes our way—be it in my lifetime, or in thousands of years, in the time of my descendants...

The Aurelian Empire and humanity will be strong enough to stop it.

Light will win. The age of nothingness and darkness might come one day, when every last star blinks out of existence, when the last planet is nothing more than an empty rock, but it will not be when any of my kind and his has the strength to wield a sword.

I run my hands over my belly and let dreams of the future grow in my mind. He’s strong, our boy, and he’ll be the firstborn prince of a new empire, an empire strengthened and renewed.

“Ignatius. That’s what we’ll call him. The new fire.”

“It’s perfect,” says Doman, and though it’s Gallien’s night, he can’t resist clambering into bed with me, squeezing me tightly yet giving room for my pregnant belly, and I close my eyes, my mind filled with the thought of tiny ivory fingers clasping around my hand, bright eyes looking up at me inquisitively, and in this room surrounded by my men, I find the peace I never could without them.