Aqua resisted the urge to hurl all over herself. “You good?” Vyra asked, pulsing from a mute purple to a bright one with every word.

  “I’m good. I’m good,” the Vyrosmith said, pressing at her jaw.

  “Sorry,” She knew what the Pocket-System was apologizing for.

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” she started toward the steps and Vyra followed. “When people travail a dark class together, they can either do it as rivals or friends. I’d rather be the former, however slower, wouldn’t you?”

  A pause. “I would.”

  Wiggling her toes and fingers, she said; “Good. Now lets go face the korring bitch.”

  The steps down were painful, but her body ached a lot lesser than a minute ago. Her skill was a lot less powerful too. Well, seven percent lesser; but that was still a lot considering who was waiting for her at her own kitchen. Someone who had never wasted any chance at leveling up in her life. One reason the two had ultimately not worked out in the end. One of the reasons she and Vyra had. She felt a little hollow, having to meet her again, a moment after a power loss too, but she had her friend with her. Two against one. They could take her, even if things got ugly. But she had a feeling the woman had come for something else. She had started humming, for korring sake.

  Aqua jumped over the last step, and landed onto the wooden floor with a slight creak. Gurgles sounded from the kitchen, accompanied by another laugh. The hostage lived; sounded like they were gagged. That was good news, for Nethema at least—she couldn’t spare enough space in her solemn to care beyond the bare minimum. Concentration was needed. Vyra in tow, she crept across the dark living room, enhanced eyes scanning for any trap in the vicinity, feet-level or otherwise. Muffled screams greeted them as they exited the chamber and dull kitchen light replaced the near-darkness. She sat on a stool at the marble counter, her back to them, red coat and golden hair reflecting the light, almost tipping the scale against Aqua’s eyes and the tears that threatened to pour forth. A man laid on the ground a few feet from her, wide eyes watching the entering duo, a piece of metal covering his mouth, but not fully hindering his screams.

  Creeping sideways all the way to one of the translucent doors, Aqua surveyed the sixth most powerful [Vyrosmith] in all of creation. Two glowing amber marks graced her dark-skinned cheek as they always had: one hoop over another. Standing on the counter in front of her were two filled glass cups and a bottle of wine, three quarters empty. The same bottle that the lower leveled Vyrosmith had let fall into oblivion while she was still on the balcony. The intruder picked up one of the cups and sipped whiskey from it, before turning her head a bit sideways, putting the host in her peripheral vision and waiting. At once, Aqua’s heart thundered. She was back there again. In the middle of nowhere. Stranded. Forgotten and abandoned by someone she’d thought she could trust. An exile, even to her own wife; even to the Queen of the korring Vyrodom. Four decades, and the closest they’d ever come to seeing each other again had been their son. Why now?

  “Hey, Vyra.” Juthuba’Charlot, the granddaughter of the Vyrosmith Primus, said.

  The orb—now reverted back to her blue state—pulsed, about to say something before staying silent.

  “Selethema,” Aqua answered. Queen.

  She picked up the full glass and moved it half a meter to the side, patted the wooden stool next to her afterward. “Please, sit. Have a drink with me, Tamvuri.”

  One would have thought her the owner of the house from the casual way she put forth the request. The restrained, muffled man on the side of the counter closest to Shel’s continued to scream.

  “How long have you been in here?” Aqua asked, walking along the edge of the room.

  “Sit and I’ll tell you.”

  “I’d rather not. On account of my current form and how your every word repulses me. You understand, right?”

  Shel rapped once on the counter, before taking another sip. She was annoyed, not quite agitated yet. Aqua reached the captured man, making a mental reminder that the woman she was trying to piss off was a leader in one of the most powerful fabrications in all Surumkathe, and had been formidable before that had ever been an option.

  “Who is he?”

  “The last step before your glorious, vengeful return to Fabrathe. The person you came here to abscond with. Pytha Valureqa, head of Rattle Corp.”

  Vengeful return. Of course they knew. She was keeping tabs on her; had probably been listening while they argued on the balcony. Core-Wraith. The Exile gazed down at the Corporate Head again. They had expected a Solemn Avatar that took after her normal appearance in the ‘real’ world; like all her other avatars before this one, including some she’d used to traverse the server they were currently in. But this one was new. Unknown. Hadn’t even been in the files she’d combed through with diligence over the last two months. The body was burly, the head bald at the center, the skin brown, and the belly-length beard gray, and disheveled. A complete opposite to how she looked top-side. Could it really be their mark, or was her wife trying her hand at jesting?

  “Does he remember?”

  “Wurena’Tumujiso remembers his entire life. From his early upbringing as a townsperson and the dumbest student in his class to his middle-aged career as the Tutor-Head to both the Princess and her three children when she grew up. But beyond that, not in the slightest. Pytha has the capabilities to remember when she jacks in, but chooses not to, while also going the newborn path. Wish I could be nearly as brave.”

  Going in blind. Aqua wished she could do that too. Vyrosmiths could remember if they chose to. The only time she’d done the opposite was during her testing, a three-quarter century past. Had always wanted to try it again, but never really got to it in anyway. There’ll still be time. She knelt and ripped the gag off of his mouth. His resistance went up tenfold.

  “Notify the Enkeke’Jaga! Quickly, thief! I am of most importance to her highness! She will pardon you! Reward you, most generousl-- Mmmmmm! Mmmmm!” Shel’s eyes glowed crimson for a moment and the piece of metal flew back onto his mouth.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” The Queen asked.

  Aqua shrugged. “I was only curious,” she grinned.

  “Always jumping in at your own convenience, aren’t you? The reason we’re in this mess to begin with.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Her grin faded. Another reason they hadn’t worked out. Shel’s constant judgment. “I’m the reason? Not the wife who tried to save her grandmother after I advised against it? Who convinced me to do it then decided against that after her enemies offered her a shiny seat among them? Who betrayed me! Exiled me! All decisions you made without ever considering what I wanted to do! I’M THE REASON?”

  “You challenged the six! What was I to do?”

  “Stand in my corner! Help me defeat the rotten bastards! Save her. Not get distracted by a stupid crown. Any of the four. That easy.”

  “We would have died, Tamvuri.”

  “Maybe. But we would’ve done it together.”

  “Our son would’ve died,” Shel threw the cup in her hand, and it shattered against the gray wall a dozen meters ahead. “Sooner.”

  Shaking her head, Aqua tried to understand. “What--?”

  “He would have died sooner,” she clarified. “It’s what I came to tell you. Kana's gone.”

  The exile blanched as though attacked. Found meaning in those words. Tried to finds deceit in them as well. Some kind of indication that her wife was lying. But there was no mischief in her trembling hand, nor annoyance in eyes that like hers threatened to weep, but for a whole different reason. There was only a brewing agitation. Their boy was dead, and Aqua didn’t know how to feel about that. Didn’t know how to react to this news, for she’d never known the man. They’d talked now and then, but he’d lived in Fabrathe, had been one of its most stalwart Generals, while she’d been cast out of the Vyrodom. Truth be told, he’d been one of the people she was ready to kill once she got back to her network. One of her only threats. Her son was dead, and all she could think about was how beneficial it was to her eventual conquest. Should she have played along, back then?? Had Shel’s back instead? Should she have betrayed the woman who had taken her in for people who had treated her like dirt for as long as she’d known them? If that had happened, would she have had time with Kana? Learned to love him enough to grieve with the woman sitting in front of her who still had a hold of her heart, despite all the time they’d spent apart, or the problems they’d had before then? A Queen she now knew would never suffer the crimson claw if a tour of vengeance was achieved. If she’d become a turncoat, would there be a reason to want to weep at all, or would a loved one she would have taken time to know still be alive?

  Aqua kicked the tutor-head below her, sending him into a panic. She kicked again. And again. And again. Tears which could no longer be avoided started to fall as she continued to send her boot down and stain it in green. Warning thoughts assaulted her. This was their mark. They had to take him alive. That was the job. But her baby was dead. She’d lost him forever; and someone needed to pay. She raised her boot, about to let it fall one last time, let him follow Kana to the Prime-Walker’s domain, before a bright blue light flooded the space all around her, bathing her too sensitive eyes in acid, and ripping out a scream from her throat.

  I love you, even if you can’t love me. The last words Kana had ever said to her; through a holo-recording, no less. They’d made plans to meet and this heavy fog of doubt, of daunt, had overcome her. Kept her from attending.

  Aqua groaned, hands seeking purchase on the ground, head rising in a daze. She’d opened her eyes, but very little came into view. A scream. For a second, she thought it had come from her before she recognized the voice. Near-blinded eyes widened. Shel had Vyra in between her tightening palms. The Blue Orb was crying out, voice rising every time a new crack formed along the spheroid.

  “You have gleamed your last, Ntusara’Jemeli!” The Queen bellowed.

  Aqua crawled toward them. “Stop, Shel! STOP!!! She didn’t steal my name! I gave it to her, willingly.” The Exile rose, staggering toward them.

  “The Systemborne attacked you! She must suffer for it,” Shel’s hands had relaxed, but were starting to tense up again. The wounded Pocket-System in her grip continued to weep.

  “Vyra was only stopping me from making a mistake. Let go of my friend. Please.”

  “Almost like she knows you well enough. Shouldn’t she have run it by you, first?”

  The Exile could see where her wife’s argument was going. “What I was trying to do back then, speaking up against those ingrates you now lead with, it was just. There’s nothing fair about my actions against him.” She pointed at the bloody body behind her, give or take a few inches off-target.

  Vyra’s cries had gone down to whimpers. “She says as she cries tears of blood. You might heal, but your sight will never be the same again. She has done this to you, the woman you call friend. The woman you love. While you hate me, for a mere banishment.”

  She was close enough to them to attempt a steal, though she decided against it. “Mere! You took it all from me. Everything and everyone I had ever known, but despite that, I still call you wife!”

  Shel stared down at the orb. “Not everyone. I let you keep her.”

  “Yes. And I would be dead ten times over if you hadn’t. She’s my rock,” Aqua held the back of her hands. “Give her back to me.”

  A part of her still doubted. Still knew her wife as the woman who never lost a chance to level up. Killing Vyra, the bearer of a name she’d come up with, would certainly be an act worthy of ascension. She wouldn’t. Would she? Again, the Exile resisted the urge to take and run. She had to trust.

  “Do you know what its taken? Keeping you from their clutches?”

  “I don’t. But I can. All we need do is talk.”

  “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of bad at that.”

  “We’ll learn together.”

  They heard the door open and close. Nethema. “I’m sorry, Vyra,” Aqua joined her hands together, palm upward, beneath the Orb. Shel placed the Pocket-System on them and backed a step. “The funeral is seven days from now. I’ll come for you.”

  Aqua nodded and her wife began to walk away. A blurry figure had appeared at the edge of the kitchen. Shel was about to pass her, when the Exile spoke again; “I’ve never hated you, Tamvuri.”

  Her love nodded and continued walking toward the exit.

  ***

  Futhuna’Gali Thegela deserved her leaky, dump cesspool of a prison. She knew why the Fabrication had trapped her there—she was more powerful than them, despite their higher levels, and she would’ve used every tool imaginable to destroy the Vyrodom they’d managed to build—but she was still going to kill them all. They could not contain her. Not forever. She was magnificent. She was the Vyrosmith Primus…

  She was trapped.

  Everything Fuli could think of to get her out had failed. All the Techno-Mana she’d had in reserve had been exhausted. The voices had left her. And now, she was alone, with only one way out left, though she tried not to think about it. She had someone she needed to get back to, so she endeavored to persevere. Her life would not end the way most of her enemies’ had. In a cage of her own making. There would be another--

  A laugh from the dark corner opposite her. A voice had come back. Fuli laughed with it. She wasn’t alone anymore. But hold on: she recognized this voice. Not from her time in the hellhole but from before it. Small golden circles of light appeared in the dark corner, a rune below them. A Systemborne. An actual person. The figure walked into the moonlight. The Vyrosmith whimpered. Not a systemborne. A God-System. The one she had betrayed.

  “How the mighty have fallen, eh, Fuli?” He walked closer.

  She backed into her corner. “Stay away from me, Plea!” Her voice came out as a hiss.

  He stepped forward. She tried to back away into the wall some more. “What’s the matter? I just want to talk.” He feigned a pout.

  Holding her arms above her, she yelled out; “Stay away!”

  Plea laughed again. “What if I said I came here to free you?”

  “I would say you were a liar!”

  “Well, you’d be right,” he backed away with a chuckle, made a show of looking around. “Remember the one you put me in? Wasn’t nearly as stylish.”

  “I’m already in misery. If you’ve come to end it. Don’t. Leave me to suffer, as you suffered.”

  “Still believe there’s a way out, do you?” Plea asked. “Well, I didn’t come here to end your misery. Only to worsen it, before I leave this stinking heap.”

  What could he possibly say that would worsen her predicament. “Your granddaughter,” No. “I told her about this place, hoping she would get herself killed. She almost freed you, but then they gave her an offer. To be like them. Take up your seat. One among the first Fabrication. All she would have to do is choose. You or them. I’ll be on my way.”

  The Vyrosmith forgot her fear. “So she’s alive?”

  Plea blinked. “Yes... I did not expect that. The old you would’ve yelled out in the name of vengeance right about now. Hmm.”

  “Well, some people grow, Plea. Weren’t you on your way?” The God-System frowned. Fuli didn’t care. She was alive. That’s all that mattered. She was alive.