The resembnce wasn’t approximate—it was exact. Valyra’s voiswered, calm and dismissive. “Why do you look so shocked? It’s not me—ly. She’s a e grown from my geic material. Flesh without a soul.” She waved a hand toward the servitor. “This is the Valyra Type-74. Grown from my DNA, equipped with an artificial neural cortex, and capable of tasks far beyond standard servitors. Repairs, maintenance… you . As long as I’m within the Reach system, I directly interface with her through optietwork reys.”

  The immense meical struct behind her gave a final shudder, its lifeless eyes dimming with a heavy groan. As the mae powered down, the figure in front of Kayvaan stirred. A lock of her hair moved as if caught by a ent breeze. Her eyes snapped open, glowing with unnatural red light. The doll-like stillness vanished as her face shifted—suddenly animated, alive. “Brother!” she called out, her voice light and unnervingly cheerful as she trotted toward him. “Isn’t this body something special?”

  Kayvaan froze, unease creeping through him. He gnced between the now-dormant strud the lively figure approag him. “You… moved from that thing into this body?” His hand instinctively shifted toward his on. “What are you doing, Valyra? What is this?”

  Valyra—now fully inhabiting the servithed, waving dismissively. “Oh, don’t look so horrified. It’s not heretical possession, I promise. It’s still me—your brilliant, charming sister!”

  Kayvaan’s scowl deepened. “Charming, you say? You’re a housand-year-old abomination. Who exactly do you think you’re fooling?”

  Valyra’s pyful expression soured, repced by a chilling calm. “And what about you, brother? Is the Astartes still human? Do they t as men? You feel no desire for women. You fear nothing—not death, not pain. Two hearts beat in your chest. Three lungs feed your body. Your very form relies on stant bio-chemical bance just to fun. You’re a on, Kayvaan, not a man. So tell me—are you still human?”

  Kayvaan’s jaw tightened. “Watch your words, Valyra. The Astartes are humanity’s protectors—the pride of the Emperor Himself. We gave everything to defend mankind.”

  “And how am I any different?” Valyra tered sharply. “I altered my body, yes, but why? To protect our family. To uncover knowledge. To safeguard secrets that would have destroyed lesser minds. And I regret none of it.” Her eyes burned as she tinued. “This body is mine. My flesh. My DNA. The artificial cortex is nothing more than a tool. When I log out, it’s just a servitor. When I’m here, it’s me—fully and pletely.”

  She stepped closer, her gaze unyielding. “So tell me, brother—do you waret it? Do you wao abandon my progress just to fit into your narrow ideals of humanity?”

  Kayvaan stood speechless. Valyra believed she was doing the right thing, and in her view, no one was being harmed—not even herself. Yet to Kayvaan, her as were undeniably destructive. She used her owic material as an experimental vas, sculpting her humanity into something alien. This wasn’t the servitmetics the Meicus preached as a necessary cost—it was a deliberate reje of her very nature. Could anyone really reduce themselves to such a state? This wasn’t a cogitator, where you simply logged in and out. It was a living vessel, corrupted by purpose. Valyra didn’t see it that way, and Kayvaan found himself at a loss for words.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” Kayvaan muttered, rubbing his temples. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Valyra. I just feel like you don’t value yourself enough. You don’t o treat your own body like… like—”

  “Don’t,” she snapped, her voice sharp as iron. “Brother, you pity me. You look at me and see something alien. ‘Why does she look like this? she still feel anything in that steel form? Is she even human?’ That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? Such a shallow rea.”

  “But you said you were tired,” Kayvaan pressed, his tone softer this time.

  Valyra blinked, realization fshing across her features. “Ah, so that’s what this is about. Brother, you’ve misuood. I’m not tired of living. Long life is no burden to me. Every moment I exist is a ce to pursue the truth, to uhe unknown. What tires me is meaningless repetition. I live for discovery, not secrecy. The thrill of the unknown fuels me. Burying those discoveries? Now that is b.”

  She offered a faint smile, cold and distant. “But now that you’re back, everything is perfect. I focus on what I enjoy—exploration. And you, brother, take care of the rest. The dull tasks. The politics. Act like the lord you were made to be.”

  Kayvaaated, struggling to find the words. “You shouldn’t have to live like this. I want you to be happy. I want you to have a normal life. Wear fine robes, find a partner, maybe—”

  Valyra cut him off with a bitter ugh. “And then what? Die like everyone else, leaving a handful of brokes behind? Live a life so small, so fleeting it means nothing? That’s what you’d wish for me?” Her voice dripped with disgust. “I haven’t felt this level of revulsion in a thousand years, Kayvaan. Don’t waste time pushing your ideals on me. housand years ago, we stopped being ‘normal.’ I y path. I earned my happiness. You don’t get to dictate it.”

  Kayvaan sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You’re right. I ’t.”

  “Good.” Valyra’s expression softehough the warmth never reached her voice. She turned brisk again. “An Inquisitor has ehe system a a briefing. Something’s happened. Go do what you o. When you return, I’ll have new wargear ready. You’ll like it.”

  Kayvaan nodded. “Alright. I’m leaving. Don’t overextend yourself.”

  Valyra poio her servitor shell. “Take No. 74.” She closed her eyes, the tuft of hair on her forehead drooping lifelessly as if all power had drained from it. When the servitor’s eyes reopehe red light within them was dim, vat. Valyra was gohe struct behind her groaned back to life, a meical echo filling the chamber. “Goodbye, brother,” came its lifeless, synthesized voice.

  The transit ride back was silent and uful—except for the figure seated opposite him. Kayvaan couldn’t help but g the woman. Her robe was familiar, yet something about her uled him. “Your name is No. 74?” he finally asked.

  “Yes,” she replied without iion.

  “Why No. 74? Why not No. 1 or No. 2?”

  “Geic ing is imperfect,” she expily. “Even the Meicus fails to produce reliable results on the first attempt. I am the seventy-fourth.”

  Kayvaan’s brow furrowed. “And the others? Your predecessors?”

  “They were failures,” she answered without pause. “They were purged.”

  His expression darkened. “Purged? You mean… they were destroyed?”

  “No,” she crified, her voice void of any feeling. “Only humans die. I am not human.”

  Her words struck like a blow. A tool, discarded when deemed insuffit. What had Valyra done? What had she bee? “I’m sorry,” Kayvaan murmured.

  “There is no need,” No. 74 replied dispassionately. “I do not feel sadness.”

  Kayvaan studied her empty crimson eyes—voids that stared through him without meaning or warmth. “Then what do you feel? Joy? Fear? Guilt? Love?”