[First Era – Year 6 of the Divinity War; Hopron, secret laboratory]

  

[Other body – Deep Space, aboard a Severed vessel]

  Nearly a year later Moraithe sat quietly on the edge of Saffrael's bed, watching over her sleeping, stardust-freckled body, or at least one of them. His gaze fixed on the map of this laboratory where they researched new weapons for the war. The soft hum of strange entanglements echoed down the corridors. The faint glow of light globes barely traced the growing tension in his heart. Breathing in the scent of her winterblossoms, he felt Saffrael's presence—both comforting and distant—her consciousness, a universe away, traversing the grand library of Sidren while he was here, trying to extract a different kind of truth.

  He blinked, shifting focus back to the task at hand. The map was clear, showing the section of the facility where the new crystals were being developed. In Moraithe's current body, he was acting the part of a researcher sent by a powerful lord, just another cog in the massive military machine, asking just enough questions to avoid suspicion.

  He and Saffrael had been inserted here as spies, part of the network of drackmoor agents spread across the galaxies, each partnered with another. It allowed them to create an information chain of sorts, passing news and knowledge from one to another, body to body, partner to partner. Their shared understanding aided to synchronize their efforts, making them far more effective than any lone operative.

  If he could do anything to stop the war it would be here. Wars were won when the enemy lost the will to keep going. He had to make the Severed believe the war was unwinnable. They needed an advantage so overwhelming that their enemy would realize they could not stand against it. A new discovery in this laboratory might be exactly what they needed to make the Severed see the futility of war.

  Saffrael awoke and sat up, rubbing her sapphire eyes. “I wish I could have spent more time there.”

  Moraithe looked up from the map. “Learning important things?”

  “Mostly, this body is just tired. Too many brief rests, not enough actual sleep.”

  “Did you find any information about it?” There was something unsettling in the air.

  “It's not easy sneaking into the command researcher's study. Seems like they're pushing the new crystals into production faster than expected,” Saffrael's voice cut through his thoughts, a whispering hum in his mind. “I've just overheard some senior officers discussing it—there's disagreement about its safety. Not everyone trusts the entropy crystals. Some generals think the cost of storing entropy in them will be too high.”

  “The general's concerns could be valid. The power to remove entropy from the mind of a person—what if it falls into enemy hands? That would be dangerous. Yet if the crystals work as expected, it could change the war.” Moraithe's lips tightened. “Is there any indication of our mole?”

  “Not yet, but I'll dig deeper.” Saffrael rubbed her temples. “Something feels off. One of the researchers may be playing both sides, and I'm getting the sense they're more than just a pawn.”

  He shook his head, trying to refocus. Too many threads. Too many risks.

  Now it was Moraithe's turn to lay on the bed, while Saffrael watched over him.

  Switching from one body to the next was never easy, and it wasn't just the physical disorientation. It was the mental shift that shook him, the sudden flood of different sensations, the disconnect between two places—two versions of himself, switching goals and personalities to fit the mission.

  He closed his eyes, and in the blink of an eye, he was no longer in the research laboratory, but underwater in a dimly lit chamber aboard a Severed vessel, breathing through a snogbreather he'd attached to his face. Its tentacles stuck to his face with dozens of suckers firmly attaching the creature to his skin as it pulsated, sucking in water and filtering out air for him to breathe.

  These bubble vessels always felt so small and crowded. It wasn't exactly small, composed of tens of thousands of chambers, enough to fit an entire Severed army. But it didn't even compare with a world, or even a small moon. Perhaps it was more that he felt trapped here—surrounded by the Severed and those who had allied themselves with them—with nowhere to run, only the bleak void of space outside the translucent walls of the bubble. At least he wasn't completely alone, not with Norgoth to keep him company.

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  To be inside such a strange slimy, water-filled plant floating through space was nerve-wracking, but to do it while breathing underwater was so much worse. He understood that the giant plants couldn't contain air, the pressure differential would cause them to burst. Instead, they were filled with water, which also allowed those inside to swim around, rather than aimlessly drifting as things did in space.

  Moraithe and Norgoth floated at the edge of the council room. This was the second path that might win them the war. If they could infiltrate their inner council then they could counter every effort the Severed made until they realized this war was futile.

  The shadows of his pretended allies flickered through the dim bioluminescent glow. The Severed leaders, their bodies like twisted patches of darkness and death sewn together with cursed threads, studied him with cold, hollow eyes. Their voices reverberated in the air, ancient and chilling.

  One of the Severed swam forward, a towering figure with a body made of flesh and metal, his face a patchwork of twisted, decayed human features. Even through the strange distortion of the water, his voice was grating, as though every word had been shaved from metal. “The time has come to test your loyalty,” he said, his hollow gaze narrowing. “You have been useful, but we need to know where your true loyalties lie.”

  The second Severed leader, a woman whose translucent skin shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly glow, spoke next. Her eyes burned with an unnatural light. “A village on the edge of Orsis,” she said, her voice like the hiss of a serpent. “We will see how far you're willing to go. Go there, and eliminate every soul. Show us your resolve. Only then will we know you are truly one of us.”

  Moraithe's breath caught in his chest. Innocents!? The thought of killing the innocent just to prove their loyalty sent a chill down his spine. His body stiffened, but he knew there was no turning back now. The Severed's gaze was upon him. He had to act, but he would not—could not—follow their orders as they expected. He would find a way to save them.

  Here in this place, where sound reverberated to the very edge of the bubble, it was impossible to communicate with Norgoth any secrets whatsoever. Rather they'd been forced to use the chain of drackmoor to relay messages from partner to partner, body to body, the entire way around the chain until they came back around to one another in their other bodies. Only then could they avoid suspicion under such conditions as these.

  As the Severed leaders withdrew to discuss their next move, Moraithe knew he had to make his way back to his sleeping cell. It helped that people slept at all hours in these strange conditions. But he needed to find a safe place to sleep and return to Saffrael. When he arrived at his chamber, he leaned against the wall and felt a shift—a jolt—as his mind flickered, the familiar sensation of switching between his bodies.

  Within moments, he was sitting up beside Saffrael in their quiet room, down the corridor of the research facility, a place that hummed with the secrets of war. He sucked in a deep lungful of air, finally able to truly breathe once more, the air full of Saffrael’s winterblossom scent. But the heavy weight of the task he'd been given lingered in his chest.

  Saffrael looked at him, sensing his tension. “What did they want?”

  Moraithe's jaw clenched. “They want us to kill … innocents. A village on the edge of Orsis. They want to see if we will obey without hesitation. If we do, they will trust us. But I won't do it, Saffrael. I refuse.”

  Her eyes softened, understanding flashing across her face. “Then we need to do something about it. You have a plan?”

  He nodded, his gaze distant as he thought through the details. “I do. But it requires all of us—your revenescent and my entanglement. And I'll need to get a message down the chain to Norgoth.”

  Saffrael tilted her head. “Go on.”

  “We'll fire arrows,” Moraithe said, taking a deep breath. “Each one will be entangled with your revenescent, pulling the innocents inside. They'll vanish without a trace. A second entanglement will leave behind a crater where they stood, to make it seem like we followed through on our orders.”

  Saffrael's brow furrowed as she processed the plan. “You'll make them disappear into my revenescent? All of them?”

  Moraithe nodded, the weight of his words heavy on his tongue. “Yes. They will be safe. No harm will come to them.”

  Saffrael momentarily hesitated, her mind whirling as she weighed the risks. “And the Severed won't know?”

  “No,” Moraithe said firmly. “They'll see the craters, the devastation. They'll think we did what they asked. But we will have saved every one of them. Norgoth needs to know the plan. I'll make up a bundle of arrows for him as well. I'll hide them … where? Do you know that village?”

  “No, but Ranth is nearby in one of his bodies. I'll talk to him, we'll figure out a good place, and relay the information to both you and Norgoth.”

  He realized his hands were trembling. Saffrael threw her arms around him. “Everything will be okay, even when you think it won't.”

  And he melted into her embrace. “What makes you say that?”

  “Elithir and all the souls that shine from ten thousand stars, they will light the way.”