LotS/The Story/Fade to Gold/Black and Gold

Black and Gold

Adrian Zanfran gazed at Talia over a battlefield of plates and dishes. Scraps of naan and colored grains of rice lay strewn about in bloody curry pools. Rich odors drifted amongst the carnage like cannon smoke, bearing delicious memories of the fallen. The campaign had been fierce. In the end, mankind had triumphed over meat and carbs and sauce and spice. But judging from the expression on Adrian's face, he'd crawled from the fray on his hands and knees, shell-shocked.

"Yeah, I'm pretty," Talia said. "But a married man shouldn't be staring like that. Especially when his wife has doomsday weapons."

"We call them diapers," he said.

The frivolous reply came off his lips before he'd thought about it, and the absurd image of Kwix destroying humans with that particular armament managed to break the spell of incredulity which had held his tongue.

"So... Ragnar kicked him in the groin?"

"Yeah."

"He kicked that dragon guy in the balls?"

"I don't know if I'd really call him a dragon guy, but sure." Talia smiled. "You look disappointed."

"It's just..."

"Hey, that's life. Sometimes you gear up for a big epic battle, and someone just comes along and kicks you in the nuts. If you want to make it sound more exciting when you write about it -- maybe have them thumping each other back and forth like it's some kind of martial arts holo-vid -- go right ahead. I'm just telling you what happened. Ragnar's boot, the professor's groin."

"So what were you doing? While Ragnar was fighting him, I mean."

"Me?" She shrugged. "I was just shooting people. No dramatic face-offs, guys dosed up on dragon stuff, or anything like that. Just a couple of pistols and a bunch of cultists. But hey, if that's too boring, write about how one of them tried to get away in a ship, and I shot it out of the sky."

"Did that really happen?"

"No, but everyone loves explosions. Why'd you think Rex Carnage's last movie was just two hours of him walking away from them?"

"The director's cut was three hours."

"Wish we'd known Rex a bit better. Maybe the cult would've taken him out. Wonder what the universe would be like if he'd never made Zombie Ninjas Vs. Kung Fu Vampires VIII..."

"Probably about the same."

"Yeah..." She glanced over at the lovers, and watched them feed one another forkfuls of curry and rice. "It always is."

Silence hovered between them. Adrian couldn't muster up the will to break it. He nodded to the waiter as the Rylattu cleared their table, and wondered if Talia's story was drifting away with the dissipating aromas.

"Roar."

The voice at his elbow made his tentacles twitch. He looked round, and stared down into the tiger's furry blue face. She grinned. Her purple-striped flanks undulated with deep breaths or inner laughter.

"No screaming this time?" she said.

"He must be a cat person," Talia said. "Come here, Lari."

The tiger walked over and sat on her haunches beside Talia's chair.

"Lari?" Adrian said.

"Oh..." She ruffled the tiger's cheek. "It's short for Illaria. Me and Ragnar named her."

"It's a beautiful name, don't you think?" Lari said. She scrunched up her eyes as she purred, making her face almost meditative.

"Y... Yes," Adrian said.

"They saved me from poachers who wanted my fur."

"She was a cute cub. Had this way of sitting there with her head up high, like she was a little princess."

"How did you end up working here?" Adrian said.

"They offered me all the free curry I could eat. And I like this place. The Curry Mile has... character." She nuzzled Talia's hand away, opened her eyes, and looked from one human to the other. "Did you leave room for dessert?"

Adrian met Talia's gaze. His tentacles tensed. Would she...

"Yeah," she said. "What's good?"

He exhaled.

"Try the mixed mithai platter," Lari said. "It has my special blue and purple burfi in it."

"You make sweets?" Adrian said.

"No, but I get up on my hind legs, lean on the table, and glare menacingly until the chef does them the way I want them."

"Sounds great," Talia said.

"I'll go tell them to make it."

Lari rubbed her cheek against Talia's knee, then padded away.

"Don't worry," Talia said.

"About the mithai?" Adrian said.

"The story. I wasn't going to leave it unfinished..."

"Scotch?" you say.

Lu Bu looks up from the illuminated table and stares at you.

"It's been a while since we last enjoyed one another's company," he says, "so perhaps I should remind you that I'm a robot."

"This..." you say, raising the bottle, "is mine. This is yours."

You place a small green square in front of him. He presses his fingertip down on it.

"It's a sixty-year," you say. "Most drinkers would commit mass murder to get hold of the liquid version."

"An interesting blend of flavors... I wonder how it would taste when mixed with a non-alcoholic beverage."

"Like blasphemy." You glug from your bottle, and let the scotch utter its agreement in your mouth. "Learned anything yet?"

Lu Bu lifts the millennia-old sword from the examination table with both hands, holding it by twin blades and handle -- a warrior offering his weapon to a commander or conqueror.

"The impurities in the steel don't match those of any recorded blades from Earth's history," he says, "and it's in pristine condition despite its supposed age. But beyond that..."

"What? You didn't find any magic?"

"No more than a priest I once spoke with could find his soul."

"Then I guess we'll be relying on faith. Seems appropriate, under the circumstances."

"Perhaps so."

He sets the sword back down and puts his finger on the electro-scotch again. You take another drink.

"Thanks," you say.

"For what? I didn't provide you with any useful information."

"For everything. Storming the Zenith... Helping me build the battlesuit on Hyperia... Playing lawyer on Earth... Fighting our way back to the Thalatta Spaceport... Sian... If it wasn't for you, maybe none of us would even be here."

"No... Thank you. For letting me do all those things at your side, for being my friend, and for making me feel like a man instead of a machine."

You hold out your bottle. He picks up the electro-scotch, and technology clinks against glass.

The Feet In Ancient Times

Flying brought back memories. It reached across immense gulfs of time and space, grasping and rekindling sensations which had outlived the wings that once granted them. Long ago, he'd soared through the skies of Tor'gyyl -- overpowering gravity with his draconic might, gazing down at the weak, pitiful beings who could only wallow in the dirt. That had been his awakening. His epiphany. He and the other dragons were masters. Born to rule and ravage, to destroy and demand worship.

But for all his strength, the black heavens had teased him. Mocked him. Imposed their limit on how high he could soar. They'd glittered with the knowledge that everything which lay beyond his reach was for the so-called gods alone.

Now such limitations had faded away like those divine beings themselves. Their images adorned no temples, and penitents never cried their names. They were gone. Forgotten. While Noir traversed the void in the cockpit of his ship, gazing into the infinite darkness.

Yes... Flying brought back the past. But it also invoked the future.

Had they really fought and bled -- met heroes' swords and spells with claws and burning breath -- for a single planet? One little ball of rock? Stars glimmered all around him, promising a myriad worlds. An entire universe.

All this awaited them. Supreme victory on a scale their ancient enemies could never have imagined -- which would make those foes weep and wail in the underworld. But first... First there was [Player Name].

Noir's hands tightened into fists. Deep in his core, within his melded soul, a dragon roared.

[Player Name]...

That [man|woman]'s very blood was a challenge. It screamed [his|her]her heritage. Two strains bound together, as close as the two voices and essences in Noir's own body. There was the one who slew Erebus near the walls of Fallows. The warrior whom the wyrms' minions came to call Dratherax -- God-Slayer. The Dragon-Rider of Burden's Rest. And there was the traitor. The blue drake whose orange eyes had held treachery. Erebus and Kalaxia's child and adversary. Solus.

[Player Name] embodied it all. Enemies past and present. The culmination of all the Kasans who'd come before, who'd battled the Kalaxians at every turn in a campaign measured over eons. [His|Her] death would be a powerful symbol.

Noir's eyes burned in his mask. Their azure flames lit the darkness of the void.

Flying brings back memories.

Every time you sit in a cockpit or flight cabin and your hands touch the controls, a thousand recollections simmer just beneath layers of instinct and muscle memory. You've flown a lot of spacecraft. Everything from tiny fighters to growling battleships. Their stories hum against your fingers, awakened for better or worse. Dozens of pushed buttons and pulled triggers whisper their tales.

Blasts of weapons fire lancing the void -- a Centurian ship exploding in the darkness, echoing in your aural implant, giving the Collective their justification for war. The craft you flew from the Child of Heaven, carrying you and Illaria beyond chaos and carnage, into a universe of threats and wonders. The ship King Salastro gave you on Gallea to secure his son's safety. And the beautiful, powerful vessel named after the woman it was built to avenge, which brought about such slaughter...

The Silver Shadow teems with its own share of phantoms. Nemo... Your companions... The Emperor... Hundreds of remembered words, looks, and conversations replay themselves.

You glance at Lu Bu, who sits in the co-pilot's seat. He turns to you. And you know the gesture is for your benefit, not his own. His omnidirectional senses render it superfluous. Just one of the countless little ways he's always seemed so much more than a mere machine.

"It isn't too late," you say.

"To devise another plan?" he says.

"For you to hit one of the targets you picked out instead."

"Would you rather have one of the others with you?"

"No, but..."

"Then I'll accompany you."

You fly in silence for some minutes, staring at the stars and holding your tongue. But at last you speak.

"Lu Bu..."

"Yes?"

"I talked to Wilex once, and I asked him about..."

"Me?"

"He said robots with... personalities?"

There's a flicker in his eyes that you swear is a smile.

"I believe I possess one of those, yes."

"He said they get backed up -- so their minds and memories can be recovered, if their bodies are destroyed. But he told me..."

"That I'd refused?"

"Yeah."

"And you'd like to know why." He holds your gaze for a long moment. "It's come to mind because you're considering your own mortality."

"Maybe..."

"Tell me... If it had been possible, would you have allowed Princess Illaria's personality and memories to be placed in a cloned body?"

"No! It... It wouldn't really be her."

"Precisely. Because people are more than those things. Perhaps a robot isn't, and I'm being illogical."

"No... You're not."

"And there's another reason. When I fight alongside you or our friends, I wish to face the same dangers, and experience life as they do. To appreciate its value and fragility. The engineers who built me may call that a malfunction."

"Screw them."

"I don't possess the right attachments."

"Then let's just kill Noir instead."

"Agreed."

Jerusalem Builded Here

The tarmac stretched away -- a dark, unnatural plain, as though the blackness from his ship and garb had bled into the ground and seeped across it in an ebon tide. Men, women, and children, humans and aliens, walked its surface. He imagined them sinking into its depths like beasts floundering in a tar pit.

Pilgrims poured from their vessels, some uttering prayers as they set foot on Jerusalem Maior for the first time. There were many languages. Ancient and modern tongues. Most bore a religious euphoria which amused him. From Tor'gyyl to Earth, to the distant stars, it was always the same. The same pious, pleading tones. Identical expressions of servile awe on their features.

Noir walked among them.

On his left, a girl in flowing robes dropped to her hands and knees, kissing the ground. Nearby, a man with a long white beard was gazing up at the sky -- perhaps expecting to glimpse his deity in the darkening heavens.

"Diablo!"

He stopped and glanced at an old woman, whose skin was dark and mottled like old wood. Her eyes were soft and milky. Blind orbs, denied medicine or augmentation. Yet their blank stare was aimed in his direction. So was her pointing finger.

"Diablo!" Her voice became louder and shriller. A piercing wail. "Diablo!"

A young man ran out of the small, claptrap spacecraft behind her. He tripped down the steps, caught the rail to steady himself, and darted to her side.

"I'm sorry!" he said. "My grandmother's..."

The man tapped the side of his head.

"Diablo!"

"No," Noir said. "I'm something far worse."

He strode away, leaving the woman shrieking and the man gawping. Noir's scaly lips formed a smile beneath his mask. Was that why [Player Name] had chosen Jerusalem Maior for their encounter? Because of newfound superstitions? Had Noir beaten piety and a literal fear of God into [him|her]? The idea was entertaining beyond measure.

The man in black walked the city, whilst daylight yielded to the bright halos of streetlamps. Few people paid him any attention. His garb, even his ebon mask and searing eyes, was no stranger than some of the costumes worn by the pilgrims and tourists around him -- the clothes and coverings they donned at the behest of fashion or scripture. On a world where angels flew on metal wings, the extraordinary was commonplace.

Ornate churches stood among shops and cafes, mingling with those gleaming, younger-looking structures like missionaries ministering to the sinful. Their stonework -- real or fabricated -- was remarkable. Gothic masterpieces swallowed and disgorged rivers of worshippers, beneath the eternal vigilance of their gargoyles. Erebus had once scorned such human endeavor. But through the eyes he wore now, through the filter of his half-human soul, he appreciated their beauty and their worth. In time, such architecture would be dedicated to his kind instead. Millennia of skill, artistry, and ingenuity striving for their glorification. Stone dragons would gaze out across cities and up at the sky, while cavernous naves echoed with hymns to tooth, claw, and wing.

Perhaps he was disappointed when he reached the address encoded within [Player Name]'s challenge. In a city with magnificent cathedrals, edifices where the stink of piety was a thick and almost tangible fog, his enemy had chosen a tall, unremarkable structure. It stood among many near identical siblings, forming a copse of glass and metal trees. Just an office building. Empty, judging by the darkened windows that climbed up its side like a smooth, blue-black skin.

Its door opened to his touch. The lobby beyond was unlit, but his eyes parted the shadows. He passed the unyielding steel of the elevator doors and entered the stairwell. At a whim, he leapt and grasped a bannister, then swung himself up to the next floor and grabbed hold of another.

Noir flew, as he had so long ago. As perhaps he would again. In this age technology made biology as malleable as the molten iron in a West Krunan blacksmith's forge. Yes... Maybe he would have ebon wings mounted on his back. Azure eyes smoldered with the possibilities.

He drew himself up onto the final landing, vaulting the rail. A plated door awaited him. He pushed it open and stepped out onto the roof.

Beneath the night sky, on a cliff overlooking a sea of man-made light, Noir gazed around. But he was alone. Was this another trap? Would there be turrets or explosions, as Wu Tenchu had thrown at him? In truth, the thought of [Player Name] detonating a powerful weapon in the middle of this ecclesiastical city, obliterating thousands of souls in a futile effort to stop him, was thrilling. Murders upon murders. And all to no avail.

But another notion crossed his mind, and his eyes narrowed. Had [Player Name] intended to fight, to duel, only to scurry away when [his|her] courage failed [him|her]? That would be disappointing.

Noir sniffed, tasting the atmosphere. His azure slits gleamed.

He spun round and thrust his leg out.

A black boot met empty air, and the air buckled beneath the blow. There was a grunt. Something fell away and tumbled across the roof.

"Well," a man's voice said, "you can't blame a chap for trying."

Invisibility sloughed away like a shimmering skin, revealing the debonair smile of Arthur Lupin.

Dark Satanic Mills

This entrance to the Grand Temple isn't as imposing as the vast opening which admits pilgrims on the opposite side, but the stonework is no less wondrous. Graven angels frame the double doors, spread across the steps, the pillars, and the curved arch above. Those underneath are at prayer. Some kneel, clasping their hands together in entreaty. Others stand upright, sword blades pressed against their furrowed brows. The ones flanking the doorway rise up from these penitents in great hosts -- winged legions rushing towards the war which consumes the apex. There angels and demons battle with swords, spears, and tridents.

The sculptures are only made more impressive by the flesh and blood angels they encircle. Six warriors in resplendent gold and silver armor stand before you, their wings folded behind them like cloaks. They stare at you over blasters which are currently braced across their chests -- but you have the distinct impression that they're just looking for an excuse to point them your way.

A short woman with a shaved head, whose uniform is even fancier than the others, glares at Lu Bu.

"The sky commander agreed to see you out of gratitude. You and your friends saved a lot of lives here. And you remember that priest you protected in the fighting?"

"Of course."

"He's a friend. So if I can ever stand beside you in battle, I will."

"It was really my pleas-"

"But her?" She diverts her glare to you, and it intensifies in the process. It's like staring into the barrels of blazing machineguns. "This war criminal?"

"My companion was never prosec-"

"If you'd told her she was coming-"

"I had to conceal that information, for security reasons."

"Right..." She snorts. "And because you knew she'd refuse."

"It's imperative that the two of us both speak with her. It's a matter of security, for Jerusalem Maior and perhaps the whole of human space."

"We're responsible for the sky commander's protection. So if you think we're letting that maniac near her-"

"I'm not here to hurt anyone!" you say.

"You're holding a sword."

You glance at the Sword of Conquered Kingdoms. It occurs to you that you should probably have put it in a case or something.

"It's an artifact," Lu Bu says, "which we wish to bring to Sky Commander Bethany's attention."

"If it makes you feel better," you say, "you can carry it yourself."

"Let me see that," the Archangel says. She lowers her blaster and takes a small, rectangular device from her belt. "Hold it out."

You do as instructed and let her run her scans along its length and breadth. After some moments she presumably decides that it's not booby-trapped, because she stows her own weapon on her back and takes the sword from your hand. She stares at the blade -- brows knitted.

"Tell the sky commander that we're here on behalf of Wu Tenchu," Lu Bu says, "and I believe she'll agree to speak with us."

Sky Commander Bethany sat at her desk, staring at the holographic screen. She couldn't be sure, but she was almost certain Lu Bu's eyes were staring straight at her, into the hidden security camera mounted above the entrance. The robot's words seemed to echo in the room.

"Wu..." she said.

Was he lying? Just invoking that name because he knew she wouldn't, couldn't ignore it? Part of her hoped so. But unwelcome presentiments gnawed at her, and the mandarin's message flitted through her thoughts.

"Carlita," she said, "I'll see them. Bring them here."

Bethany closed the connection and murmured a prayer.

Till We Have Built

"Where is [Player Name]?" Noir said.

"No introductions?" Lupin said. "I'm disappointed, dear boy. [He|She] said you had a flair for the dramatic. I'm-"

"I know who you are, thief."

"My reputation does precede me, doesn't it? Makes it rather hard to find new chums. They're always watching their valuables whenever I'm around. But [Player Name]'s more understanding than most."

"Where is [he|she]?"

Noir moved towards him. Lupin slipped away with the same swiftness and grace -- almost a slide instead of a step.

"I can point you in the right direction..." He sprang backwards. His boots touched down on the low barrier which encircled the rooftop. "But first you'll have to catch me."

Lupin crouched, bracing his legs, and launched himself into a reverse somersault. His body soared in a high arc -- carrying him across the alleyway below. He landed on the edge of the next building's roof with his poise and smile unbroken.

Noir leapt after him.

Bethany gestured at her desk. Carlita nodded, crossed the chamber, and set the sword down there. The sky commander looked from her to the five Archangels clustered in the doorway.

"It's okay," she said. "If [Player Name] was here to assassinate me-"

"I'm not," [Player Name] said.

"...Lu Bu wouldn't be with [him|her]."

"I'm flattered by your trust," the robot said.

"It's been earned."

The guards looked at one another, and Carlita seemed on the verge of speaking. But she bit her tongue and led the others away. The door closed behind them. Bethany took a deep breath, and hoped against hope that Wu Tenchu's final words to her weren't about to come true.

"Please," she said.

She indicated the two chairs in front of her desk. [Player Name] and Lu Bu sat down. The human glanced around the room, at the painted frescos. The robot's eyes remained on her -- focused and inscrutable.

"Is this artifact for the temple?" she said.

"In a way..." [Player Name] said.

"We must be frank," Lu Bu said, "since time is of the essence. We have reason to believe that you possess a powerful weapon, in a chamber beneath this building."

"He told you?"

"With his dying breath, as it were." Lu Bu held her gaze. "It was among his final deeds."

"Master Wu thought he knew what it was," [Player Name] said.

"I won't discuss the contents of our vault," she said. "If that's what you came to talk about, I'm afraid you've wasted-"

"We need it. Now."

Bethany felt the blood drain from her face.

"Someone may come to you one day, and request a favor."

"We have to make use of this artifact," Lu Bu said. "I assure you, we have no wish to violate the sanctity of your treasures, but we have no choice."

"I can't-"

"The very notion will shock you. All your training, your beliefs, your instincts, will tell you to refuse."

"There's a man called Noir," [Player Name] said. "If you're like everyone else in this damn galaxy, you've probably watched him kick me through a window. Well... And believe me, I know how this sounds... He's supernatural. Regular weapons, even nuclear explosions, won't stop him. That's why I have that sword. But it might not be enough. We need a contingency plan. And if Master Wu was right, you have something even more powerful."

"But before you do, remember what a dead man once did for you beneath the Grand Temple..."

"Why..." Bethany groped for the words. "Why would I allow-"

"For two reasons." [Player Name] held her gaze now, with eyes even steadier and more unflinching than the robot's. "First of all, if you don't, I'll make sure the whole galaxy knows what you're keeping here."

"They wouldn't believe you."

"Most might not, but enough will. You'd have to build a wall around this planet to keep them all out. And the second reason..."

The sky commander's hands clenched. Nails bit into her palms.

"...that unstoppable killing machine I told you about? He's already here. So either you let us into your vault, or people will die. Because I promise you, he'd kill his way through every angel on Jerusalem."

Arthur Lupin glanced down as he jumped, at the distant street and its miniscule inhabitants. Invisible hands grabbed at him. Gravity was a jealous lady, and never wanted the air to have him for long. She'd rather snatch him down, smash him into a bloody paste, than see him soar.

He hit the next rooftop, rolled, and rose.

"Better luck next time, my dear."

Lupin glanced back. Noir was still after him. That was good, because a chase needed hounds as well as a hare. And [Player Name] was counting on him.

"Should I slow down?" he said.

On the opposite building, azure eyes blazed in that featureless ebon mask. Noir hurled himself into the same jump. Lupin gave a low whistle. That man was good at this game.

But he fancied that no one was quite as good as Arthur Lupin. So he grinned, spun round, and carried on running.

"I won't be part of this!" Bethany says. "It's not a blaster, or a sword... Using it like that... It's blasphemy!"

"Yeah?" you say. "So's Noir. I've seen what his kind did. They wanted to be worshipped, to..."

You shake your head.

"It doesn't even matter." You hold her gaze, and sap the strength from your voice. Because this isn't about rhetoric. "I know what Wu Tenchu did for you, and Noir's the reason he's dead."

"We're not asking you to take part," Lu Bu says. "Just grant us access."

"You don't understand," she says. "This... What we have... It won't just be Noir. When it opens, anyone who's unworthy will..."

"Be destroyed? Then perhaps there's no need for any further debate."

"You'll have to find another-"

"Because if we're unworthy, as you express it, you believe we'll be eliminated. But if this doesn't transpire, surely that means our actions were deemed acceptable."

The silence seems to stretch for centuries.

"If... If I agree," she says, "you'll keep our secret?"

"Our friends know," you say, "but they won't tell anyone else what you have. We give you our word."

"And you promise not to damage or tamper with it?"

"We'll use it exactly how you tell us to, nothing else."

Sky Commander Bethany looks at Lu Bu, then back at you.

"And you really believe you're worthy?"

"Sure," you say.

You keep your eyes fastened on hers. Firm, steady, and sincere. But in the deep and distant parts of your mind, children scream.

Lupin ducked beneath the flailing leg. A flurry of punches chased him, black fists whooshing at his face in swift thunderstorms. He sprang away from the bombardment.

"You will tire, thief," Noir said. "You are only wasting time."

"I believe that's rather the point," Lupin said.

Noir lunged at him. Lupin leapt aside. And the universe serenaded his agility.

"Ah!" the gentleman thief said.

Noir stared, as Lupin pulled a communicator out of his pocket and silenced the melodious Italian love song.

"One moment..." He put it to his ear. "Yes? Certainly! It's for you."

He tossed the device to Noir. The man in black caught it.

"Noir?" [Player Name] said.

"Your ancestor would never have sent others to die in [his|her] stead," Noir said.

"Neither did I. If Lupin doesn't want you to catch him, you won't. But you're here for me."

"Where are you?"

"On-world. The Grand Temple. This communicator will lead you to me."

"Another trap, no doubt?"

"Yes. Me."

The line went dead.

"After I have finished with [Player Name]..." Noir stared into the thief's eyes. "...I will hunt you down."

"If you beat [him|her], old chap, you won't have to. Because I'll come looking for you."

Lupin smiled, bowed, and backflipped off the building.

Noir [III]

Orange light flickers at the edges of your vision. Energy fields pulse and crackle, shielding the vault's countless artworks and treasures. Protecting irreplaceable relics from the battle that'll soon take place among them. You keep your eyes forward, focused on the long passage which trails away from the big doorway like a monster's gullet. You'll have to get used to the barriers' flaring illumination. When the fighting starts, you can't let it distract you.

The sky commander disappears into the elevator at the far end of the corridor. She doesn't look back, and didn't wish you luck. You don't blame her. You forced her hand, blackmailing her into bringing you here. If it wasn't for her loyalty to Wu Tenchu's memory, and her fear of the consequences, maybe she'd have let the traps slaughter you instead of deactivating them.

If you kill Noir, you'll try to make it up to her somehow. And perhaps you'll get a chance to talk about one relic in particular...

"That symbol..." you say.

The device on the heater shield, a blue dragon standing above a pitchfork, is so pristine it might have been painted a day earlier. But you of all people know it wasn't.

"Yes?" Bethany says.

Her hand hovers over it.

"Never mind," you say.

She touches it, and the wall slides away.

Lupin's voice appears in your head, transmitted via your aural implant.

"He's on his way."

"Thanks, Arthur. If I get out of this alive, I owe you one."

"Call me Thomas."

"Thomas..."

"Good luck, my dear."

The connection closes. You open others.

"Barra?" you say.

"We're okay," the Piscarian says. "But Alexa didn't make it."

"Tell Ali I'm sorry."

"I'm good too," Telemachus says. The prince's voice is heavy, weary. But there's elation there as well. "I'm going to be king."

"Good for you, Tel."

"A ton of dead cultists," Talia says, "and not a scratch on me. Kind of in the mood to hit a club after you're done there."

"Drinks are on me."

"Let's get a boar too," Ragnar says. "I killed a dragon guy!"

"Then I'd better kill my one, or I'll never hear the end of it."

"Got the secret weapon?" Talia says.

"I'm standing beside it as we speak," Lu Bu says.

"So what is it?" Ragnar says. "Some kind of cannon?"

"It's more of a box..." you say.

Noir pulled himself onto the balcony rail and perched there like a vulture. He sniffed, drawing in the surrounding scents. [Player Name] had been here. Recently. This time there was no subterfuge.

A jump cleared the balcony, and took him into the doorway of the room beyond.

"You must be Noir."

The woman in the winged panoply stood across the chamber -- taking his measure.

"Sky Commander Bethany, I believe?"

She nodded. His azure gaze roamed around the frescos adorning the walls, and paused on one of them.

"Such magnificence. I especially like this piece."

"Satan," she said.

"Depicted as a dragon," he said. "How very appropriate. Though perhaps I have more in common with your god than his nemesis. We both rose from the dead, destined to rule..."

"[Player Name] was right. The galaxy will be better off without you."

"Then hasten my end. Where is she?"

"Through there."

Bethany pointed at the unsealed entrance that gaped between the frescos.

Noir sensed the tensing of her muscles, the clenching of her fists, when he crossed the room. But she didn't attack. He entered the elevator unopposed, and the scent grew stronger as he descended.

Anticipation flowed beneath his scaly skin.

"It's time," you say.

"Good luck, guys," Talia says.

The others' well wishes and exhortations sound in your ears, as the man in black strides down the long corridor. His burning eyes fill the ensuing silence.

You wait till he's in the room, just yards away, before you pull the sword round from behind your back.

"Intriguing," he says.

"Recognize it?" you say.

"The blades of Carnus the Warwalker. A great butcher of men, just like the one who wields it now. Where did you find it?"

"In an asteroid."

"Tor'gyyl's bones."

"A friend of a friend reckons it can kill you."

"Perhaps. If greater hands than yours wielded it." His head tilts upwards. There's a sniff and a faint growl. "You have brought the robot. Do you believe he can save you?"

"It wouldn't be the first time. If you want to even the odds, go dig up Kalaxia. I'll wait."

He advances instead.

---

You can do this.

You have a magic sword.

You can do this.

Seriously, an actual magic sword.

You can do this.

You're going to kill a dragon with your enchanted sword, just like in the fairy tales. Because that's how the universe works. The hero wins. The dragon dies.

These thoughts flash through your mind in a split-second. Then a black blur smothers them.

You slice. A quick, diagonal cut. The blade cleaves empty air.

Noir's fist doesn't miss. It crashes on your helmet, and only Sian engineering saves your skull.

You dart backwards before he can close and clinch -- before he can render your weapon useless. The Sword of Conquered Kingdoms weaves a tight, swift web of steel in front of you. A silver sculpture of attack and defense.

It isn't enough.

It'll never be enough.

You fall back, away from ebon kicks and punches. Retreating from two azure flames. Into the small, dark chamber.

Noir's eyes flick to Lu Bu for the barest fraction of a second. Then they're back on you, pressing the assault. Guiding his fast, strong, murderous limbs. He doesn't perceive your friend as a threat. He's focused on the sword. The only thing in the universe he believes has the power to hurt him.

The door closes, drowning you all in shadow. Your helmet adjusts. Blue fire blazes. Blackness rushes for you, to finish you.

"Now!" you say.

Lu Bu opens the box.

Noir falters. His head snaps round to evaluate the new danger. But he's too slow.

Golden light floods the chamber.

The plate of mithai sat between them, a rainbow platter of sugary treats. Rectangular blocks of burfi -- blue and purple, green and pink -- formed a little well around syrup-sticky blobs of gulab jamun. Jalebi lay beside the structure in a pile of intricate, twisting orange patterns.

Talia glanced down, as though noticing the sweetmeats for the first time. She took a piece of burfi between her thumb and first two fingers.

"When Bethany went down there..." Talia gazed at the block, then met Adrian's eyes. "...they were gone."

"Just..."

"Just gone. No trace, of any of them. Noir, Lu Bu, the captain... We thought she was lying. We went over there -- me, Ragnar, and Tel -- ready to tear the whole temple apart. But when we saw her, face to face... She was telling the truth."

Talia sighed and took a tiny bite of her burfi.

"She even took us down into the vault, and showed us the room. Before we got there, Ragnar was all set to break the box open. Like he thought their bodies were crammed inside or something. But in that room... We all felt it."

"Felt what?"

"I don't know... Power maybe? Like there was this... this force there. It's hard to explain. It was hard to be angry there. You'd have felt like a little kid screaming at her parents or something."

"What did you do?"

"For about a year, we kept hoping. If they could vanish, they could reappear, right? I don't think any of us really believed that, but we pretended. Every time there was an anomaly, whenever some crazy nut on the net said they'd seen [Player Name] someplace, we checked it out. In the end we knew it had to stop. So we had a funeral for the captain and Lu Bu. Just us and some friends."

"I'm sorry. I... For what it's worth, I'd hoped the stories were true. The holo-tabloid stuff about [Player Name] being out there, wandering the galaxy..."

They nibbled in silence for perhaps a minute, picking at Indian sweets while the story settled around them like a mantle.

"Whatever happened..." Talia said, "Wherever the captain ended up... At least she has Lu Bu with her..."

Epilogue: The Screams

Shrieking voices, flooding a golden galaxy. They claw at your skull, inside and outside, and ripple across endless aureate oceans.

Where the hell are you? You were fighting... Fighting Noir.

Stunned. Must be stunned. You have to snap out of it! Get up, before he kills you! There's no weight in your hand. The Sword of Conquered Kingdoms... It's gone!

Screams. More screams, tearing through your mind.

You grope for the weapon... But your hands are invisible. Weightless. Intangible.

"[Player Name]."

The sound reverberates, echoing around you. Perhaps one voice, perhaps a chorus.

"You must answer for your deeds."

"Who-" Your tongue's gone, and the word tosses around on golden tides.

"Your crimes. Your sins."

The shrieks grow louder. Louder. Louder. Shuddering through your soul.

"Their screams."

The gold... It's not a sea. It's fire. Flames, burning and searing. Each tongue a screaming voice, a shrieking child. You try to pull away, to escape. But your phantom muscles have no strength.

The fire eats at you, and your cries join theirs.

"Their screams condemn you."

"Stop!"

That voice! Your friend! He's here too! You try to speak, to call to him. But tendrils of flame slither down your throat, charring your innards. Immolating your tongue, throat, and lungs. Burning barbs snag, rip, sear. It's a cruel, sadistic conflagration. A malicious inferno. Agony rages through your being -- enough pain to steal your senses or unhinge your mind. But your thoughts are crisp and clear amid the anguish. Because they want you awake. Conscious. Suffering.

"Silence! Your friend must be judged."

"If there's a judge, [Player Name] needs an advocate! Let me speak for [him|her]!"

"A soulless machine? Never."

"If I don't have a soul, then how am I here?"

The voices whisper. A cataclysmic susurration, louder and more terrible than the devouring flames.

"Very well. You are her advocate. Listen to those who denounce her..."

The screams become words. Billions, trillions of words. Men and women speak. And the children, loudest and fiercest of all. Endless voices shout amongst the fire. They tell the golden universe what you did. Speak of how you murdered them. Of the lives and loves you tore away. Of how you consigned them to inferno, as they've now consigned you.

Hot tears carve searing channels down your nonexistent cheeks.

"What can you set against this?"

"I..."

Lu Bu's hesitation burns hotter and more painful than the fire. Because in your heart and his, you both know -- you've always known -- the magnitude of the evil you inflicted.

"[Player Name] saved countless lives. [He|She] freed billions from the Centurians, and trillions from the Besalaad encroachment [he|she] prevented with [his|her] actions."

"Does that cleanse [his|her] soul?"

"No!" Your own scream rises over theirs, counterpoint to the children's wails. "No! I deserve this!"

"[Player Name]!" Lu Bu says. "Don't-"

"They're right! They're... They're..."

The screams diminish, drifting away on aureate tides.

And the inferno consumes you.

The breeze whispers, sending ribbons of cloud scurrying across the soft blue sky. The surface of the lake, almost a perfect mirror of the heavens in shade and hue, trembles as it catches the words from the air, and passes them along its waters. They play against the side of the little boat, a wet, fluttering caress. The message reaches the Sian cherry blossoms on the distant banks. Their adornments, a resplendent riot of purple, blue, turquoise, and jade, quiver as they gossip over what they've heard.

Your gaze rests on the chattering blossoms, the finery of trees that exist only here in all the impossible vastness of the galaxy. Glories created for the imperial gardens, their beauty a secret kept from all but the Emperor's family and those honored enough to be invited to share in their wonders.

The breeze shifts, twirling like a dancer. The lake murmurs in disapproval at this sudden and unseemly gyration, its waters undulating in quiet outrage. The trees lean in close to each other, the bright blossoms upon their heads mingling in clashing waves of color. It's as though they're coming together in silent congress, plotting the upstart breeze's murder for the shocking breach of decorum. But overhead the clouds show no sign of joining in the general vexation. They're enjoying the dance, sharing in its steps, twisting and turning into new shapes.

"What do you see?" Illaria asks.

"A [man|woman] and a dragon," you say, after a moment's contemplation, "their destinies intertwined."

"Yes..."

Your gaze drifts downwards, meeting hers as it too descends from the heavens. She leans back against the plush cushions at the prow and smiles, the slight movement of her lips completing her beauty like the final stroke of an artist's brush.

"...but there's something else."

"What?"

"Lean in close, and I'll tell you."

Her eyes sparkle with the promise of cosmic knowledge, something she wishes to divulge to you alone. You stand up, eager to share in whatever eldritch secret she possesses.

The boat rocks beneath you, teasing, but it can't upset your balance. You crouch beside her and put your ear close to the warmth of her lips.

She whispers.

You both laugh, and your merriment rustles through the eternal cherry blossoms.