Amidst the horror and the beauty, Sally realized she was watching the apocalypse unfold before her eyes in all its awful splendor. Demons and angels, blessings and curses, all the forms of magic entering a once stable world, ending it the instance it did. And just as that realization hit her-

  Like a woman drowning, Sally woke up.

  27. Revetions II to X – September 5, Year 216

  Sally gasped for air, but no matter how much she took in it was never enough. The air moved like mosses in her lung, swallowed quickly enough but slow to absorbed by her blood, its sludgy texture clogging her veins and heart. She was panicking and every breath she took became more and more shallow with each passing second. Soon, she started hyperventiting which, of course, helped nothing, and her heart started beating so hard it hurt. She fell backwards on the floor, hand clutching her chest.

  Through bleary eyes, she saw Lucy’s vague shape move around quickly, half-panicked but with a purpose to it Sally cked. Her hands moved and her mouth mimed words, shaping liquid light in her hands: a healing spell. Sally felt Lucy y her healing hands on her body and an influx of energy enter her body. For a moment, her thick blood moved and her heart pumped a single, vigorous pump, but the effect was only temporary.

  Sally felt her energy, her stamina disappear down the bck hole caused by her body’s attempt to reconstitute herself. For the first time in well-over a month, Sally felt worse than exhausted: she felt as if she were dying. A sharp pain coursed through her left arm – the one that was missing – from non-existent fingertips to still-existing shoulder; the first time she’d felt the phantom pain rather than hearing about it. The phantom pain moved into her body, into her head and chest, seizing her heart in sharp teeth and tearing cw. And all the while, her body tried to extract energy from her that didn’t exist.

  Sally had nothing left to spare, her everything was spend despite her body’s insistence. Her thrashing diminished and her hyperventition- no, any attempts to catch breath ceased. Yet still she felt a pull within her, a demand for energy she could not fulfill. It demanded more and more and more, looking for the infinite source of energy – her blessing – that had disconnected itself from her body. The once-bottomless well of vita had disappeared, yet her body had become so used to it that the instinct her body had formed around it now served only to kill her.

  With pleading eyes, Sally stared at Lucy and once more Lucy cast the healing spell, providing momentarily relief. Then, miraculously, Sally saw Lucy’s eyes widen in realization, and hope settled into the st active part of her mind. Lucy said something, expining her revetion to Sally, but Sally was in no state to hear it; her ears were as clogged as her heart. Then, for a moment, her friend disappeared from view, only to reenter it with a familiar dle.

  Sally instinctively wanted to reject the water, closing her eyes and trying to shake her head and spill or spit the water out, anything but drinking the stuff that caused this in the first pce. But Sally was too tired and Lucy’s motions and the autonomous response of her own throat forced Sally to take it in, to swallow it.

  Nothing happened – the Sip could not be forced – but this didn’t discourage Lucy. Sally’s eyes were forced wide open, her head gripped to look at Lucy’s face. Again, more slowly, Lucy tried to say something and while the sound never reached her brain, the look in her friend’s eyes, Lucy’s desperation, compassion and struggle to help clear to her even in this diminished state, allowed Sally to interpret them nevertheless: Trust me.

  Sally couldn’t respond, but Lucy moved regardless. Once more, water was deposited into her mouth and once more, autonomously moved down her gullet. But this time, with the st flickering of consciousness and independent thought left to her, Sally accepted it.

  X

  The Second.

  Sally was once again at the End of Days. Time hadn’t moved forward since st she saw it, and perhaps even moved backwards a little, but the scenery had changed. Sally, barely hanging unto consciousness as it stood, was now in the thick of it, in the non-space of the long sun.

  Whether because her dying mind failed to process it or something else shielded her, the scenes were no longer overwhelming, no longer damaging to her psyche. Instead, they felt oddly familiar, in the way that another person’s body was familiar to one’s own, even if you’d never met the person before.

  The form she inhabited, Sally realized, was not her own, nor were the actions it performed done by her. Instead, her mind was a passenger carried by one of the beings of compassions she saw in her First, feeling what they felt, seeing what they saw and doing what they did.

  Their eyes moved on their own, without her input, and watched the death of their kin with untold horror and sorrow, before moving to the world below. There, nds ranging from snowy deserts to densely packed cities were twisting and colliding, burning and freezing, existing and dispersing into nothingness all at the same time. People in uncountable numbers screamed in pain and despair, their prayers reaching Sally’s angelic cohabitant’s ears. Their eyes wept at the noise, at the emotions humanity projected in their final hour

  The being’s compassion transferred from their kin to Sally’s species. A desire to help the unfortunate souls entered Sally’s mind unbidden, accompanied by a despair that they could not do so. The angel’s efforts to reconstitute themselves had left them weak, unable to help as much as they wished to, nor without paying the ultimate price in the attempt.

  Nevertheless, the angel’s compassion won over self-preservation. Sally felt herself being split into thousands, if not millions of different pieces, each moving to find a person they could rescue. They were too much for Sally to process, each and every single sight they saw blurred and overpping, innumerable actions and emotions occurring at once. But every scene bore a great simirity, a single action and sight they all had in common: a child, ranging from at most twelve years of age to those just now leaving the womb, was given a piece of the angelic being. To watch over them, protect them, provide for them like a parent, until they could take care of themselves in the New World about to form.

  Then, by doing so, they perished, and the vision ended.

  Sally woke up once more. Her body had regained a burst of vitality, only for it to be devoured by the gaping hole left behind by the missing blessing. But Lucy was there, spooning a third mouthful of water into her mouth, and off she went again.

  X

  The Third.

  The New World had come. The blessed children grew up and began providing for themselves and others in their vicinity. Those once born at the time of ending were uniquely blessed compared to their peers. They aged quicker, grew faster, understood more, all until a certain point came that they stopped changing, growing or understanding at all. They were forever locked in the grace the angelic being had provided, for better or worse.

  The New World contended with the remnants of the Old and that which had descended from the sky-scar, the things that now blessed and cursed this new nd. But as time went on, as people got used to it and generations came and went, the bance shifted evermore in humanity’s favor, cities growing once more as people grew ever more interconnected.

  Sally’s vision was drawn towards a barren pce, one with a giant ke located on the edge of a red desert. A Hiynite dressed in rough-spun brown robes, surrounded by a group of friends, had just drank from said ke. Then, he looked over his shoulder and in the nothing where Sally stood, seeing something where there was nothing. A road towards a better future.

  Sally woke up again. The process repeated, another mouthful of water added and swallowed. Its water burned her throat.

  X

  The Fourth.

  A familiar scene, men and women moving across the desert to spread the words of their Prophet. Many accepted their words and gifts, embracing the ideals, accepting their Truth. Though the peoples of the mountains, be they ever on the move or living in their grey forts, refused Truth, deed and gift, but not without accepting friendship.

  Once more, Sally woke and once more, she accepted another Sip. Its water cramped her muscles, fried by lighting.

  X

  The Fifth.

  Pioneers of a new nation looked at a rough map. A piece of nd to the east, consisting of three rge circles and inhabitant by few, though surrounded by many others like the new nation. Annotations and findings about its road, on which led where, how to make them safe and which one were worth travelling, were exchanged during a great many talks. Then, an agreement was reached.

  A council of revolutionaries celebrated. A newfound freedom turned into a drive to share this freedom, and to spare others of the deprivation they once endured. Yet, as they moved further and further away from the site of their victory, thoughts of revolution were repced with pride in their past deeds, a desire for security and a growing desire for wealth. Now, another route to all three things opened up, leading west.

  A group of mages measured the tides of magic, looking for an origin. The apparatuses both newly constructed and looted from the tombs of dead gods performed their distinct functions, but all led to simir answers. All things pointed north to a nd known for its inhospitable nature, yet seemed to be uniquely possessed of wells and springs of magic.

  Another drink. Its cold froze her mind and cracked her brain.

  X

  The Sixth.

  A corpse dragged itself from a riverbed, confused at their own survival. The corpse had two forms, one metallic and the other fleshy, another with two arms and the other with only their right remaining. One moved east and the other south, both seeking familiar terrain while filled with an energy neither knew the origin off.

  For a brief moment between delirium, Sally saw Lucy hesitate, before continuing to pour. Its acid ate at her.

  X

  The Seventh

  A being of half silver, half gold raged across the roads with sword and magic, until the vision abruptly shifted. Now, the figure was only half silver, forever in mourning of their lost other half, fearing every reminder of the gold it once possessed.

  The queen of salt engineered a new being, an heiress smarter than itself, which did the same in turn, repeating the process over and over, hoping to regain the form it once had. The vision shifted, a subtle poison was introduced and the improvements stopped. They continued trying, but never got closer to the perfect form it had inhabited so long ago, and was slowly growing more desperate.

  The green one sang of pain and anger, carrying the memory of a home now denied to them. In its anguish, its song inspired hatred in lower forms, spurring them to attack anything they considered other. Then, the vision shifted, and only a burned corpse half-melded with a weeping willow remained.

  Others yet uncovered remained hidden in sand, water and rock, waiting for a spark to ignite them, but the fuel that could light the fme had long since been stolen. Some were waking nevertheless, but slow and sluggish and much too te.

  The next Sip made her sweat, like a fever pushing out illness.

  X

  The Eighth.

  The Ashtree dreamed of an empire of unceasing order, like the one it had been designed for in days of yore. But she was stuck, its limbs growing ever more rebellious, seeking actions beyond her directives. Even now, the gem that housed itself in its branches remained, the one that gave her the power, the hope and the ambition to pursue her dream, remained closed off. The key was gone, stolen by a treacherous limb that refused to heed her call.

  The Devourer moved its obsidian teeth to gnaw on another offering thrown in its maw, draining it of its power and giving power in return. It was contented; it was dissatisfied. It was sated; it was hungry. Its time had come; its time was long gone. It was supposed to devour the world, but its teeth had been blunted by booth the passage of time and deliberate action long ago. It had grown sluggish as its predation had been redistributed to its followers, too sluggish to try anymore.

  The new mouthful soothed her pain and smoothed her frayed nerves, carrying tis ills into the gaping hole that had, and still was, threatening to devour her.

  X

  The Ninth.

  Sally saw the future in all its forms. Some were wastends devoid of all life, serene in the beauty of desotion. Others were overrun by demonic insects, birds or skinners. Other still conquered by Erlings or other intelligent beasts or even pnts. But there were even worse ones. Visions of the Circuits were in the process of being devoured by a dark beast, or turned into a manufacturing ground of metal people now stripped of soul, or an ever-growing Lake Dread, or a Grey Hive whose cities had repced those of humanity. Those futures did not confine itself to the Circuits, concocting pns to move further and further until either covering the whole of the world, or perishing in the attempt. It had become the dark heart Lucy had warned her of.

  But so, too, were there brighter futures. A city that covered the entirety of the Red Wastes, incorporating all the kes into its boundaries, ignorant of what they represented to the generations that lived there long ago. Another one was a Grand Circuit consisting of rge farms, of ranches and ranchers, an agricultural heart. Another saw it grow with mines and pits so deep they reached the struck the molten yers of the earth, a well of resources to be extracted and moved outside, leaving the nd hollow though in doing so serving the foundations of other pces. Then there was one that saw it continue the path it seemed to be on now, a nd divided between growing powers from the outside, in subtle conflict yet simultaneously forming a bridge between them, a cooperation benefiting all.

  And she saw the Circuits as it was now. Alive, but not thriving. Independent, but changing by pressures both within and without. The route between empires, but not one safe enough or accepting enough to embrace its potential.

  Sally woke up once again. Her body was lethargic, but it wasn’t dying anymore. She still couldn’t speak, but her breathing had evened out, a steady in and out that filled her lungs and moved stably into her blood. It felt as if she was starving, but the gnawing hole that sapped her energy and the blessings that she’d come to rely on had reconnected in part, reaching an equilibrium. She was neither dying, but not yet ready to live either. A state in between.

  Lucy stared at her reverently. With shaking hands, her friend offered her another mouthful of the holy water. This was to be the final one, they both knew, and Sally prepared for its vision.

  X

  The Tenth.

  Swallowing its water caused her head to soar, the Tenth’s vision arriving not subtly like the others, but in a growing field of white light that slowly took up her field of view. When it did, Sally stumbled into being, this time carrying her own body with her into the dream-like world. And along with her in this space, seated cross-legged, was the Ante.

  The Ante looked fundamentally the same as the Hiynite Lucy and her had encountered in the Red Wastes, south of Lake Dread. A skeletal metal form with a rhombus-shaped head, three pairs of lenses made in different colors and sizes to serve as eyes, and a diamond hole serving as a mouth.

  But beyond the basics, an individuality shone through that the other had cked. The brown robes were not just rough, they were well worn, dirtied with red sand so deeply ingrained as to never come out, and filled with holes that revealed the metal underneath. Drilled into his face and serving as some sort of beard were metal strings lined with beads – shell, bone, gem and more – while metal hoop-rings were attached along the top of his head. In his hand, he held wooden prayer-beads, at which he intently stared.

  Sally looked at the Ante, waiting for him to say something, to move, so stand up or beckon her towards him, to do anything. But the figure remained still, looking at his prayer beads as if in deep meditation. Sally moved toward him, carefully. Something didn’t seem right, something was warning her not to disturb the figure. But she also couldn’t just let him be, not without answering some questions first.

  With every step she took towards him, this feeling intensified, all but screaming at her to stop. It was an animalistic one, a subconscious one, but also a far away one. It was as if here, she was but a soul or a mind, and her body was distant, barely affecting her despite their connection. The connection between body and mind seemed weakened by this pce, like the real nature of the body could not co-exist in the same space her soul did.

  Despite the weakness, she did take the instinct into account, even if she didn’t allow it to guide her. She simply needed the answers. She took a seat in front of the Ante, adopting a simirly cross-legged position. Again, she waited for the figure to notice her presence, to start talking or expining what was going on, but he remained silent, focused on the object between his hands.

  With deliberate slowness and shaky arm, ready to snatch it back at a moment’s notice, she reached towards the quiet Prophet. Her subconscious screamed louder, tried to make her flinch, but it remained too weak and she was too stubborn to head its call. When she grew closer, and he still didn’t react, she waved her hand between its eyes and its object of focus.

  Nothing happened.

  She sagged in relief and disappointment. Her subconscious had instantly quieted, but now she was left with nothing; her curiosity had died and her fear had gone with it at the same time.

  Why am I even here? This was supposed to be the pce for answers, right? Everything seemed to lead up to this moment, she had to drink ten times – like the figure in front of her had done two centuries ago – and had ended up in the same space with the one being that seemed to be key to it all. A destiny had been forged, a prophecy transmitted and yet, Sally felt no path forward and had no guide to help her. It was as if the prophecy, and perhaps the blessings which accompanied them, had been given to her by mistake…

  Or it had been fulfilled long ago.

  Sally thought back to her visions. They had been without instruction, without a path forward as was the norm for visions. Even her visions of the future were glimpses of possibilities that had already been resolved, contradicted by one of the others. Two versions of the future focused on the Devourer and the Ashtree, what they would do to the Circuits if they were to be set free. And yet, the visions prior had shown them stuck, unable to do anything but continue to exist without guiding purpose or means to resolve their issues. Likewise, the Grey Hives seemed unable to expand in the way she’d seen in a doomed future, and Lake Dread had been prevented from rising in the first pce.

  She suspected it all led back to the Ante. He had been a Hiynite that had ‘turned traitor’, which might’ve had something to do with the Ashtree. He’d certainly stopped Lake Dread and if the visions were any indication, had acted against others as well.

  But then, why am I here?

  Some small part of her – and she imagined some part of Lucy’s as well – had figured that she was destined for something more. Hell, she’d believed the Ante or Lake Prior or something like had been the one that had revived her in the first pce, so there must be some way she fit into his pns, right? But if he’d already prevented the worst from taking pce, what was left to do? Cleanup?

  She was starting to grow frustrated and turned to the only thing here with her: the Ante’s body. Seeing the beads still clutched in its hands, instincts clouded for a moment by anger, she reached out and yanked it.

  But when she tried to grab the object, the Ante’s arm grabbed hers. In surprise, she looked at the Ante’s eye-lenses and felt her vision narrow, felt herself fall into them as new visions pouring into her mind.

  They were much weaker, much less encompassing than the one she’d already had, vague fshes and feelings more akin to wo what she’d imagined taking the First Sip would be like in the first pce, yet even weaker than that.

  But it didn’t matter, for she recognized every single one. It was a repeat of her own, barring where the Ante had already directly affected the outcome, seen through the eyes of the Prophet himself. And along with it, came the Ante’s memories.

  She knew – without detail, without the how, when or why – what the Ante accomplished. She knew he cleansed Lake Prior, halted Lake Dread, salvaged Lake Majestic and conserved Lake Solemn. She knew he shackled Dakh Hiyn, split the Devourer’s mind and shackled them to its cannibalistic followers, and prevented many a Demon’s awakening.

  Yet, she also knew how he failed. He failed to kill the Ashtree and the Devourer, some Demons he’d failed to fully act against and Lake Prior never gained its promised future. The rivers of the Circuits remained poison, many smaller demonic infestations remained a threat, the Circuits had never been warned of outsiders approaching its borders and there were many other, smaller failures. But these mattered comparatively little in the grand scheme of things; the Ante had succeeded where he needed to, leaving a harsh but infinitely better pce in his wake; no utopia, but a livable space regardless.

  She also saw the cost of it. Large amounts of people, including every one of his friends, had died in the course of fulfilling his destiny. She saw proto-Vil folk, proto-Drovers and proto-Anteeri join the Ante on a crusade against the monsters of the Circuits and die in droves.

  In the end, the Ante himself perished too, fulfilling his destiny as best he could. She saw a stone grave, unmarked, on an isnd surrounded by water somewhere in Lake Prior. Then, she was thrown back into the white room.

  In an instant, she knew that this was the answer she’d been waiting for, the reason behind her survival, her blessings, her new existence. And it left her feeling bitter, yet resigned. Any optimism she had gained bled out of her, dashed on the rocks of reality. She was destined, yes, but the prophecy that heralded her had long ago been fulfilled before she was even born. Her soul was a backup, a second chance if the Ante didn’t succeed. But her predecessor had and now, she was obsolete.

  When the vision stopped and the white room receded from view, the Ante had disappeared, all for but one part: a new metal arm in pce of her missing one. A final heirloom to an unfortunate successor.

  X

  Sally woke to find Lucy hovering over her. She was speaking, but while her body was rapidly starting to improve, Sally’s mind remained sluggish yet. The words entered her ears, but they sounded distorted, like she was hearing them from the bottom of a ke. It was hard to focus, and Sally felt like closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. It was an arming sign in general, but especially arming now after she hadn’t had the to sleep for nearly two weeks now.

  So, instead, she forced her eyes to remain open, and focused them on Lucy’s teary ones as best she could. Seeing her friend’s worry was heartening, uplifting in a way. Lucy gently shook her shoulders, snapping her fingers in front of her eyes and talked to Sally as she slowly regained control over body and mind.

  “Sally?” Lucy spoke, Sally slowly starting to understand what they meant. “Please, say something…” They sounded sad, worried, guilty, maybe ashamed or a mix of all of them.

  Sally wanted to say ‘something’ in response, but could only muster a groan in response. Nevertheless, this seemed to boost Lucy’s mood.

  “Can you hear me?” It took all Sally’s strength to move her head, and it could barely be called a nod, but Lucy caught it nevertheless, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank the divine. Are you getting better? Do you need anything?”

  Sally successfully groaned a few words, “Time. No water.”

  Lucy huffed, half a ugh and half relief. “Eleven would be pushing it,” she said, no small note of wonder in her words.

  After a small moment, Sally mustered up the energy to speak. “Thank you,” Sally said.

  “For what?” Lucy asked.

  “Being here. Saving me,” Sally replied, progressively finding herself more at ease.

  Lucy huffed again. “That’s what friends do, right? Or was it just a job when you did it?” Lucy asked, sarcasm clear.

  Sally moved to sit up, Lucy jumping in to help, but Sally held up a hand to ward her off. Yet as she did, Sally had a brief moment of panic. She saw her right hand off the floor, a mistake she thought she’d outgrown by now. And yet, despite cking its support, she didn’t fall down. With disbelieving eyes, Sally looked to her left, and saw a mechanical arm, the st gift of the Ante, fitted on her stump of a shoulder like it was tailored made for her.

  “It came with,” Sally said, her turn to be awed. She moved herself upright and lifted the mechanical arm, twisting and turning it, flexing her fingers and curling them into a fist. No discomfort, no need to train or get used to its presence. It was as if her previous arm had been restored, and then some; her left arm felt more present, more real than the other ever did, a dexterousness inherent to it that her other hadn’t possessed, and that she never realized her right had gained.

  “I saw. One moment it wasn’t and then, it was. No fsh of light, no noise, no nothing,” Lucy said, then hesitated. “May I…?”

  Sally thrust her arm towards Lucy, who began touching it. Sally could feel through the arm, feel the pressure and warmth of Lucy’s hands as she rubbed, poked and prodded the metal. It didn’t feel quite the same as it would’ve been on her fleshy one. It felt more like it was registering something than truly feeling it like a normal arm would, but nevertheless, it was simir enough that her mind didn’t disassociate the feeling from reality.

  “Is it…?” Again, Lucy didn’t finish her sentence, but Sally nodded.

  “He was already… well, maybe not dead, but not alive. Only when I went to touch him did he move, and afterwards he vanished immediately, leaving me with an extra arm,” Sally expined.

  For a moment longer, Lucy stared and felt Sally’s new arm, before broaching the question. “What happened?”

  Sally expined the long and short of it, crifying when Lucy didn’t understand and being crified in turn when Sally hesitated, specifically about parts of the Ante’s life. Especially at the deeds the Prophet performed but weren’t retold – it had been two centuries after all, and record keeping hadn’t been a priority back then – did Lucy ask many questions, becoming gradually more excited with each new bit of information, great or small, gained about her Prophet’s life.

  “This is amazing!” Lucy excimed. “The gaps in our knowledge, the very origin of our faith, deeds we never knew about…! The grave of the Prophet alone!” Then, Lucy’s zeal moved to Sally, bzing even brighter. “And another real Dekantist-”

  “Lucy…” Sally attempted to interrupt.

  “-A new Ten-Times-Drinker!-”

  “Lucy,” another attempt.

  “-Oh, the things we can do-!”

  “Lucy!” Sally said sharply, Lucy startled out of her rambling.

  “You can do whatever you want with the info,” Sally told her friend, “But leave me out of it.”

  “Sally-” Lucy started, but Sally raised her metal hand to interrupt.

  “I’m not your Prophet come again, Lucy,” she said. “And I don’t want anything to do with it.”

  Lucy opened her mouth several times, trying to find the words she wanted to say, before eventually settling on the question. “Why-What do you mean?”

  “You don’t understand?” Sally asked, and Lucy shook her head. “I-none of the visions were for me, Luce. Everything, from the outside empires, the threats in the Circuits, the Ashtree and the Devourer- they were all there as a path for the Ante to follow, his destiny to complete, not mine,” Sally expined, a deep sigh of frustration leaving her as she hung her head. “I was just the backup, the repcement if he failed. The Merkahni, the Grandie, the Leaguerans, they are all already present- no need to prepare for them when they’re already here! The Demons still exist, but they’re all neutered or locked away, and being dealt with by others- the Hunters killed one less than a month or so ago!”

  Sally turned her eyes back on Lucy, and, seeing her friend stunned in disbelief, decided to push the message through. “There’s nothing left to do, Luce, no fate to follow or destiny to fulfill. All that’s left is cleanup,” she decred, not knowing how to feel. Was she supposed to be relieved, or upset? Feel denied or be grateful for a new lease on life, incidental as it was?

  Her friend struggled to reply. “But- that can’t…!” Lucy took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Then why give you the revetions at all!” She asked in frustration, throwing up her arms.

  “It didn’t mean to. Lake Prior, or the divine, the Binder, whatever grants these visions, simply thought me the Ante, and granted me the same visions it did to him. A fault in the machine, or something to that effect. That’s why I’m connected to Dakh Hiyn and the Devourer, and to a lesser extend the thing that used to be in Lake Prior; because the Ante was, and destroyed the st one completely,” Sally expined, acceptance settling in.

  She decided she was mostly relieved at how it turned out. She might not be destined for greatness, but the revetions, intended for her or not, did show her some things that needed to be done, things to prepare for, take care off or change. And the journey around the Circuits had shown who to do it with.

  “So, what will you do now?” Lucy asked.

  “I’ll return to being a Warden,” Sally stood up, regaining here energy. She began to move around as pns took shape in her mind. “The visions I had might be mostly obsolete, but not all of them. Some of the futures are yet to come, are still able to become reality, and many of them I didn’t like and didn’t have the Vils in them. I need to do something to prevent them from disappearing. They’re too slow to change on their own accord, too stubborn to prepare for what’s yet to come. So, it’ll be up to me to change them!”

  Sally stopped moving and turned her eyes on Lucy, still seated in stunned silence. “And then, afterward, we’ll make the Circuits anew! Together!” Sally decred with no small bit of theatre. She extended her arm to Lucy, offering her a hand, a pact, an ambition shared.

  For a moment, Lucy stared numbly, before starting to grin. “Together!” Lucy decred, reaching for Sally’s hand. Sally pulled her up, cementing their shared ambition. Then, after sharing a grin, Lucy hugged her, Sally returning it after a brief moment of surprise.

  “By the way, Sal?” Lucy asked, tone teasing, “Did you just call me Luce?”

  accope