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Don't look at me like that.

I freely admit now that there may have been a few things I failed to mention to you. And yes, among those things might have been an unpredictable, murderous, cannibalistic fugue state.

Or the fact that I became receptive to Necroharmonic radiance in addition to my original after I died the first time. That's kind of significant too, to a lesser degree.

You'll get your clarification in time, believe me, but right now, my mind is preoccupied with getting as far away from all this as possible.

Red sparks rise from my palms as I run them over the black stains down the front of my coat and through my fur, steaming any remaining ectoplasm out. I really didn't get much energy back from this little exchange but it's enough to keep appearances before depleting again, at least.

Minus the slashes in my clothes, I look no worse for wear as far as I can tell.

As for the body, that's a different story as you're well aware. My stomach for dealing with it has gone just as quickly as my senses have returned, so I apprehensively try to grab an ankle in the least offensive way possible, but all my premeditation proves moot anyway. Much of the torso doesn't follow, it's sludgy constitution stretching into ropes of thick fluid. I gag a bit as I stagger back, shaking the bad vibes out of my hands, desperately trying to keep it all down. I know I'm full of that stuff and if I have to visually come to grips with that, I'd probably have to spare you the details of how bad it would get from there.

Ejecting the excess of blackened saliva from my mouth, I quickly upright myself and leave the remains behind. I've got no easy way to move them so I'd better benefit from moving right along.

It's strangely quiet throughout the ship, or at least what I can hear of it. I wonder how long I was like that for. I inspect nearby crevices and hiding spots as I pass by, including the now wide-open supply closet that Nym had hidden in. My movement halts for a moment as I realize I find no relief in that. Why am I compelled to check so thoroughly? In case anybody saw me? What would I do in that case?

More bad vibes to shake off. I turn back for a moment, grabbing my cast-aside weapon from the place I had tried hiding in, and then I step through the doorframe into the rampwell. Ascending the spiral, I peer around the corner out into the next hall; seriously, why is it so quiet?

Not that there's anyone left in the immediate vicinity to make a sound. A few bodies lay gracelessly about the area, a couple of which I even recognize from brief encounters in passing. I try to keep my eyes averted as I carefully pad my way through. If I think about it too hard it'll get to me.

Even the slightest creak of the structure around me causes me to jolt; on my own I feel so exposed. I'm sure these passageways are tight for somebody, but for one of my size, there's little security to be found. It's an oddly specific phobia but I've never, ever liked large, enclosed spaces. Think empty cinemas or a warehouse after hours. I don't really know where I developed it, but it's coming into play very heavily here. As hard as it is to admit to myself, I might have preferred my earlier arrangement with Yhana to this.

Gods, was that today? Was it only hours ago that I was trying to persuade my way onto a ship that barely exists anymore? Too much has happened in that time. I don't know how much more I can take.

All at once, I snap out of my spiral of anxiety, brandishing my macana out towards the first other sign of movement I've seen, down the intersection to my left. He's got his weapon trained on me as well, but he's got the advantage between the two of us, with the much, much longer reach a rifle affords.

Sal lowers the barrel with a relieved sigh conveyed through the sinking of his shoulders, before waving me over. Checking my surroundings, I start to slink towards him, but that's just met with more urgent waving and I break into... not quite a sprint, more of an expedient trot. I can't shake the fear of making noise.

The black cat lifts his goggles to get a better look at me as I arrive by his barricade, but says nothing as I vault over. I guess whatever he was looking out for, he didn't find. I suppose he would have remarked on any traces of ectoplasm on me as well, had there been any left to be found. I was thorough.

"Nym will be glad you're not dead, he thought he'd lost ya," Sal says quietly. "Most of us are in here, not long until backup arrives."

"Most of us?" I ask, wondering who's missing.

"Yeah yeah, Captain and some others are trying to keep the remaining enemies distracted, looking for 'em instead of us. Rohka's out there trying to keep 'em thinned; their Matriarch just boarded so that's bad news for us if she gets here."

I gulp nervously at that. It doesn't matter how out of the loop someone is, everybody knows Eren. An enormous, walking fortress, all muscle and brass plating. Her weight, physical strength, and magical prowess are all legendary, but what else would one expect from the direct descendant of the most powerful deity ever to have lived and given her life for the Ravel?

"You should get inside," Sal says, daring to stand up. He backs up to the door, rapping a short rhythm on it with his knuckles, and moments later, I can hear it being very slowly unsealed. "Get cozy, we've only got life or death to look forward to."

"Right..."

A tired-looking weasel on the other side of the door lets me in, and we exchange an upwards nod as she begins locking it up again.

About half the crew is here, I estimate, just shy of thirty people having rearranged the prayer mats into soft surfaces for the injured. I catch sight of Nym, just finishing up tending to Neien's injuries through a blend of arcane and mundane adjustments, and as he looks up, he catches sight of me.

"Merion!" he exclaims, getting to his feet. He gently pats the elderly cat's shoulder before leaving her side, rushing up to me. For a moment I thought he was going to come in for a hug, but he skids to a stop, his hands clasping together. "I thought we might have lost you."

"Not quite yet. I couldn't work up the nerve to move until I was positive that thing was gone," I lie.

"Better to err on the side of caution, but you're lucky I can defibrillate myself at will or I might have had some complaints about a brief heart attack," he chuckles, thumping his chest a couple of times.

I laugh politely at that, feeling a bit bad about deceiving him. If anyone here would understand, it would be Nym, right? Before I can even begin to utter the beginnings of some poorly-thought out confession, he starts to speak again.

"So hey... Yhana's not here, neither is Jori," he says. "Everyone is as patched up as they'll get, so I'm gonna slip out and find them."

"They're with the diversion group, right?"

Nym nods. "Yeah, right in the thick of it wherever that is. They're not trained for something like this."

"Are you that worried about them? Yhana seems like she could hold her own, and Jori's got Leonov," I observe. Not out of any lack of concern, but I don't want him putting himself at risk for no good reason.

"I'm always worrying about my friends," he responds.

I can relate. "You could use someone to watch your back, right?"

The fox smiles, barely able to hide his enthusiasm, not that he's trying. "I was hoping you'd say something like that. You have everything you need? We can--"

His eyes flit to the side, looking over my shoulder, and I feel a soft hand come down on it before I can even turn my head.

"Merion, a moment of your time... please," Suraokh urges.

"I'll just be a second," I assure Nym.

"Great, I'll be inconspicuously opening up a vent."

We head in opposite directions, with Suraokh leading my steps. The kangaroo sits down on the steps leading up to the remains of the shrine, all of its iconography long-gone, likely the first things saved by the original crew as they fled.

I take a seat next to him with a sigh, trying not to appear uneasy. "Alright, what did you want to t--"

"Are you still in control?" he asks flatly.

"Am I..." I hold that syllable well past its due, furtively looking myself over. I know what he means but what if it shows?

"Do not worry, nobody else will see it. But I can smell it on you. It is not subtle," the doll assures. In truth, I can still feel the presence of that corpse, its exact distance and direction, burning like an intangible drop of oil the heat cannot escape from.

As with most of my anxieties right now, I'll just have to force it down. "Well, that's a relief, I think..."

"Merion. Are you still in control?"

My unwilling eyes meet his as I steel myself; there's an unusual solemn sternness in their glassy depths now.

"I am now."

"Good. Then there are no problems. Tell nobody."

"I wasn't going to."

"You were."

"I thought I was," I retort. "I don't know how I would have done it, if I had started to."

"Leave that little quandary unsolved."

"I've got one for you though, how do you know what went down?"

"Assume I know everything and can do anything. You will be occasionally disappointed but the going forward will be overall easier for you."

That conjures a laugh I don't have to force, but it's ruined with exasperation. "Okay, maybe I can get a straight answer for this one then. What was going on on the ship that attacked us? You made a couple of trips, didn't you?"

His ears fold and he quickly checks his surroundings before facing me again.

"We are not going to talk about that while he is still near. He will know."

I want to press further but I recognize the same kind of fear in his body language as I so often convey. "Fine. Once we're in the clear, you're telling me, though."

"Nym looks ready for you," Suraokh deflects, though I admit it's news I'm glad to hear.

"Are you coming with us?" I ask, looking the other way to find the fox in a corner, with his neck craned to look at me over the crowd.

"I am exhausted. I will stay."

"Exhaus-- you? That really must have been something serious up there, then."

"Do not talk about that while he is still so close!" Suraokh says, exercising a graver tone than usual.

I pause a good while before saying anything, at first, I just give him a slow nod. "...Understood. Sorry. I'll be back."

"Please take no unnecessary risks." Like nothing had happened, his voice settles back into that gentle, therapist's monotone once again.

"But you're okay with this one?"

"You are bonding with the son of the Empress. This risk is necessary."

Ever the opportunist, but I should be glad one of us always has our eyes on whatever the prize of the moment is. It's not like I'm doing everything myself, either, he pulls his weight.

It doesn't mean I don't have to be suspicious of him, though.

"Alright, got everything you need?" Nym asks.

"I've got everything I've got," I shrug.

"That'll do! Close the grate up behind you, alright?"

And with that, back to crawling through vents I go. Nobody says anything as we depart, distracted or dazed enough to neither notice nor care, if they did see.

We climb down a short vertical shaft, taking us below floor level, back outside of our little false sanctuary.

"So how do you figure you'll find them?" I whisper to Nym.

"Well, if I'm right, this is an older vessel, pre-'45, before the Prelature revised the standards for their ventilation systems," he explains. "It's gonna be a really simple system with a lot of straight shots, there's only so many places we can check, but they cover a wide swath."

"You really know your stuff, hm?"

"It kinda gets drilled into you, at my station. I was supposed to aspire for admiralty like my brother, so if something floats on water and it's supposed to make other things stop floating, I learned the ins and outs. Up to a point, anyway."

"What made you decide not to?"

He sighs through his nose at that. "The guy's a whole different kind of competitive. I made myself as little of a threat to his aspirations as possible, otherwise he was going to tear our family apart. Nevermind he's next in line anyway..."

"I don't blame you one bit then, that sounds miserable," I express.

"Yeah. Still not enough for him, either. We've got another drop-off coming up, give me a hand?"

"Oh, sure."

His spinal apparatus clicks quietly but rapidly as he curls up, contorting himself small enough to turn around and back up over the edge. I take the hand he extends to me, firmly gripping as I inch forward to lower him down.

"Alright, not as deep as I thought, just drop me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

I don't, initially, but the moment he touches down on the surface below, the rivets and their sockets promptly disagree with one another, and the segment bearing his weight simply ceases to, his end of it coming loose and swaying downwards to strike the bundle of pipes with a sound altogether too loud for anybody's liking.

Nym slides out, partially, before scrambling back into the vent. In contrast, I don't budge, muscle and servo alike holding perfectly still.

After a few seconds, the fox peeks back out, and urgently whispers to me, "Come on, it's fine!"

"...Are we positive on that one?" I press.

"Yeah, the coast is clear but it won't be for long! Get down here!" And with that, he's out of sight again.

I try and turn myself around, with the goal of hoisting myself down smoothly. It would have been nice to have someone to help me, too, but I suppose any damage that could be done without it already has been. My feet fumble on the pipes below, and I roll onto my back, straightening my legs to push myself into the vent as well before flipping over.

I don't make it very far in, just until it flattens out again, when Nym reaches a hand back and waves to indicate to stop moving. We hold still for a few moments, until the distant sound we hear is absolutely unmistakable as footsteps.

"Ah, shit," Nym breathes. Trying to balance speed and volume management, a difficult feat prone in such a small space. And he's so much smaller than I am, it doesn't bode well for me.

I creep forward after him, my heart racing as the sound grows nearer. I can't estimate how many there are so it's already too many.

"Hey, Nym..." I murmur.

"Hm?" he returns, more a sharp exhalation than a vocalization.

"A good chunk of them are blind already, does it do us any good to stay out of sight?"

He stops moving again, slowly turning to glance back at me. Had he really not thought of that?

In either case, he doesn't let it get to him. He rolls onto his side near a grate, fiddling with the strap of his cannon to bring it around.

"Then we make us some cover even they can't deal with," he says, screwing an unmarked vial into one of the receptors of his weapon. I should have known he'd be ready for this.

But, as the sound ceases to echo, now becoming clear and close, right as it seems like he's about to do something, there is suddenly no need. The sound of the air being sliced several times rushes by us, followed by outcry from the end of the passageway, much of it cut short by collective choking, a sign that several of the arrows found their marks in the throats of approaching forces.

The return fire of arrows, flechettes, and spells is brief; a second volley drops them in moments.

As the silence fills in, not a footfall interrupts it as Samsara approaches our grate, tilting her head partially in our direction.

"You two can't stay out of trouble, can you?" Her tone is almost playful despite her words.

"Just thought I'd try and get some comrades out of it, themselves," Nym replies sheepishly. He's not quite whispering anymore, the acceptable volume threshold seeming to have risen a few decibels.

"They are regrouping to return to the fortified area," Samsara explains. "Actually, the racket you caused made that easier for them."

"Are they alright?"

The opossum nods. "Scratched up, but alive. It would not do them well to be caught out in the open."

The fox breathes a sigh of relief. "We'll head back then. Thank you, Samsara."

"Let me give you a hand," she offers. She turns back the other way, hefting the fallen vent back into place and holding it steady.

It's not hard for me to see why she's so beloved; I have to admit the pounding I feel in my chest is of a kind I've rarely gotten a chance to feel as of late.

As Nym and I turn back, he gives me a boost back up the vertical vent, and I help him after me in basically the reverse of before.

"I will reconvene soon," Samsara states as I pull Nym over the edge. "I'll make sure they haven't been followed."

The fox reaches over the edge again to display a thumbs-up, but whether she's still there or not is anyone's guess, with how silently she moves.

As we move back into the ventilation channels down the middle of the ship, we hear footsteps again, slowly beginning to overtake us. Through the grates diagonally overhead, through the pipes off to our left, we both catch sight of the crew. Not a clear enough picture to gauge how roughed-up they are, but Yhana, Jori, Leonov, Rohka, and Captain Tsing are all present, among a couple others, a lizard and a dog, neither of which I recognize from other than in passing.

Nym and I speed up; we'll save hellos for once we're all back in the prayer room.

"Hold it," Tsing says. To those with her, of course, but Nym and I instinctively freeze as well. The cheetah turns, her company about-facing with her, drawing weapons or calling on whatever radiance remains to cast with.

And then I hear it. Footsteps. Again. I've had enough of this. But of course, they save the best for last.

From the other direction, I hear urgent, breathless speech in Radiant. Without prompting, Nym translates.

"'My Light, she is almost upon us,'" he relays.

What follows is a calm, almost disinterested response carrying an electronic purr.

The fox pauses a moment, getting a nervous gulp out of the way. "She will be no obstacle."

Nym and I hurry back that way to get a better look out the next grate down, without even needing to exchange words or signals. We're both just as curious and fearful.

And rightly so. There she is. Even partially-obscured from view, there's no mistaking her.

Eren.

Arrows fly into the fray from behind her, dropping the soldiers closest to her, and several more embed into her, several of what should have been killing shots but they either bounce off her grafted armor or are simply ignored even as they still vibrate from their own force.

Undaunted, she raises her hands in a gesture as if lifting puppets on strings, and her fallen comrades rise to their feet in reverse, arrows ejecting backwards from them.

Presumably-Samsara releases another fan of arrows at once, but as Eren throws her arms out to the sides, the color drains from the area, and radiates back in, up to a point. I watch Nym freeze for just a moment, and then his movement seems to jolt, and I can guess that wave washed over me as well. When it ends, the arrows still remain in mid-flight. Time still moves in this passageway, but beyond it, all stands still.

Nym and I back up; detected or not, we share a moment of terror and awe at the raw power she so effortlessly exudes.

She speaks again, calmly as before, and once again, Nym translates.

"'Obliterate them. Take the ones that get up.'"

In deafening contrast, Tsing draws on her feral spark and roars, calling all present to fight for their lives.

I turn to Nym, my grip tight around my macana's handle. "We're jumping them as soon as we get an opening right?"

"Obviously we're jumping them."

Good. I don't plan on fighting her, I'd really rather not, but I think Nym and I can be slippery enough to distract them. I turn again, moving along the vent to keep track of the fight. Eren's shoulders square and she strides forward, head angled down to keep track of her largest opponent who is barely half her size. Her escorts, I think I count seven in all, rush right in.

From our side, Rohka is the first in, multi-lensed goggles flashing red, tattered coat breezing behind him with the quiet clinking of inlaid armor plates. He flips paired weapons over in his hands; axes, with three sets of blades mounted parallel to each other. The one in the middle has a split in it, I can only tell that as his movements slow and he gears up as if to throw one.

Fingers hook into a ring near the end of the hilt, and a pulley unwinds as the axe leaves a cable spiraling behind it. The vanguard of the Prelature crew staggers with an agonized grunt as it embeds in her shoulder, cleaving the collarbone, and falls dead in an instant as a shotgun blast brings the weapon spiraling back through the air into the black cat's grip.

The armored opossum making her approach raises a hand again, but her soldier does not rise. The glow of aether surrounds Jori as she hands back, using her own abilities to interfere with Eren's.

With first-blood properly drawn, Yhana and Leonov arrive to meet the others. I'm not so worried about Leonov. Howling out like an enraged demon, keratinous spikes projecting from tailored slits in his suit, he's intimidating even before his elastic arm smacks into another foe's head and drives it to the floor. He won't let anybody get close to Jori on his watch.

Despite the spectacle his mere presence provides, my eyes are on Yhana, ducking under Rohka's arm as he throws horizontally. She pops back up to cover him, throwing her hands forth in several full body flourishes, taking the kinetic energy out of incoming projectiles, causing them to clatter ineffectually to the floor.

As the rest of the diversion team enters the fray, either adding to the front lines or breaking past to go for the archers, Tsing bounds overhead. Heat spews from her augmentations, distorting the air in her wake.

Glowing claws reach out to strike at Eren with the force of her descent, but the opossum's own metal hands stop her by the shoulder rims.

"Inelegantly-made," Eren states in Ssemba. Tsing curls her arms, digging into the organic parts of her quarry's forearms, causing her to drop her, but she does so without wincing. "Better off as scrap."

"None of this!" Tsing bellows, advancing with a series of wild slashes. "Drop your high-and-mighty and fight me for real!"

"You will get..." Eren stalls a beat, shifting out of the way of a straight punch and crashing a knee into Tsing's ribs. "...what you deserve. Go and join your lieutenant."

The cheetah crashes against the wall we hide beneath, and I jerk back in alarm. I quickly look over, to find Nym's looking back at me.

"Now?" he whispers.

I hold my answer as Rohka rushes in, a pair of whirling strikes ringing off of the overlapping plates of Eren's midriff, the following bullet sprays equally impotent. As he comes in to strike at her organics, she vigorously spins, snatching him by the midriff and hurling him out of the zone in Samsara's direction, suspending him outside of time.

The momentary distraction has given Tsing a chance to spring back into a more opportune position, leaping onto Eren's back and digging her claws in through the smoldering leather of her jacket.

She seems to have this covered for now, but as for the others, the advantage begins to shift. Leonov goes down as a hammer connects with his head, with Yhana and crew too preoccupied to assist. As the wielder raises the weapon for a finishing blow, one with a shortspear blinks past, making a beeline for Jori.

"Yeah, now!" I agree. Bracing my back, my spinal augment tenses up, and the hydraulics in my legs engage, breaking the grate in front of me open. Rolling forward, I spring out with Nym in close pursuit.

The thunder of his weapon firing to liquefy Jori's would-be assailant from behind draws the attention of the one with the hammer as I close in, but even as he turns to bring it crashing down on me, the metal teeth of my weapon dig in just above the lowest pair of ribs, causing him to double over and miss, denting the floor. With a growl, I try to exert all my weight into my macana at an angle, pushing him back and incentivizing that he go with it unless he's keen on something tearing. Despite earlier happenings, I don't have the heart to finish him off, he's down and out anyway.

Even as his wounds begin to glow with healing light from the last standing of the archers, one of the Nayrean crew ensures they don't get away with it, hand outstretched towards their head, rattling them with flickering darkness and dropping them out cold.

"Nice of you to join us!" Yhana says despite her breathlessness, taking a stance next to me and planting a leg up on the incapacitated soldier, eliciting a pained squeak from him.

My thoughts are too scattered right now to formulate a response, so still panting out adrenaline, I give her a nod before focusing back on the sight of Tsing taking on Eren, and by the looks of it, winning.

It's the first that I really get a good look at her, even taller than Samsara, covered in rugged gray fur wherever she doesn't have protective plating grafted in. That unchanging, masked visage and its absolutely lightless eyes convey nothing, unlike her body language which is vigorous and almost frantic. Her clawed feet ring against the floor as she twists about, runic arrays casting light from the ankles. I would presume that without them, the added bulk of so many augmentations would have easily crashed right through the mesh. The other two from our crew fall back away from that whipping, lashing, syringe-ended tail, but stand ready to intervene.

Tsing crawls overhead, digging claws into the opossum's clavicle, as if she might snap it still in her chest, discouraging Eren's attempts to pry her off. Though without even the slightest sound of discomfort, her entire form quakes.

I almost believe for a moment that Tsing is about to finish her off, but I am quickly reminded who she is dealing with.

The mouth seam of Eren's mask opens with a soft hiss, sliding apart just enough to reveal the pale blue, speckled flesh of her snout. Steaming breath pours out from her splayed jaws... and so does a weapon. Tsing jolts as she feels it against her chest, but isn't fast enough to do anything about the blast that follows. In an instant, she flips forward, back smacking against Eren's belly plates, and hangs there, completely limp, with her claws still laced in.

"No!" Nym ejects, fumbling to train his aim on her. He can't bring himself to fire yet.

None of us move, fearful of hitting Tsing even as her head sways in a manner most unpromising. Eren grips her by the torso, pulling her claws out with an upsetting sucking sound, before casting her aside, either unaware or uncaring of the protection having her stuck still offered.

We don't get a clear view of the passenger in her mouth, only that they are there, dim light reflecting off their goggles, and multi-barreled shotgun aimed our way.

The lizard ahead of me gestures to create a barrier of wind, offering us cover from the incoming volley, but after the next crack of its discharge, the cone of shards seems to still the air in its wake. She cries out in pain as it strikes her arm and shoulder with force sufficient to spin her off-balance. The moment her barrier drops, any of us with radiance left or weapons to strike from a distance with return fire.

Eren's mask clamps shut and seals again, and she gulps her ride-along back into safety. Moments later, her wounds begin to glow, undoing over the next several seconds what Tsing had dealt her.

The salvo that strikes against her does little to nothing; spells dissipating off carapace and fur alike, even the slightest scorch marks being removed from within.

As Jori's glow starts to dim, morale does as well... and she's just as surprised as us when we hear a new shot ring out, passing overhead and striking Eren on the snout.

It's just as ineffective as all the rest. But it's not the potential for damage that shocks every one of us, even causing Eren to stop in her tracks, it's the fact that it happened at all.

I glance backwards just in time to see Sal loading another shot. And if he's back in, then that means...

Arrows bounce off of Eren's back. Rohka hits the floor. The armored opossum begins to turn as a new glow overtakes her; Samsara bounds up on her, wreathed in energy, slipping her polearm sideways under Eren's chin and pulling back hard before she can be faced, throttling her.

She finally broke through the spell.

"Get to safety!" she orders. "I'll take care of her!"

The most damaged of us who still remain upright fall back, the others hurry past me. Realizing shortly thereafter that they're going for Tsing, I join them and begin to drag her by the shoulder rims towards the fortified room.

"Did I not make it clear," Eren hisses through her speakers as her composure begins to falter, "what would happen if you ever let me see you again?"

"Then stop trying to turn around!" Samsara spits. She's got her held fast, with her tail coiled into the pipes for extra support.

Sal knocks hurriedly, getting the weasel on the other side to open the door for us, her previously-tired demeanor cracking at once upon viewing the spectacle outside, and she quickly shifts out of the line of sight.

Sal runs in as well as she locks back up, and we drag the captain onto the mats. Thankfully she's still breathing, however shallow the rise and fall of it is.

"Vivicaligraphers, over here!" Nym shouts, his voice prompting the swift attendance of everyone designated by it.

About half a dozen other people come to Tsing's side, palms aglow with golden light, channeling it into her wounds. But, even as the blood dries, the apparent effect it has on the tissue at all is minimal at best.

"I can't cast..." the lizard who was with us announces hesitantly.

"What do you mean you can't cast?" Nym asks, looking to her. "Are you out?"

"No. Well, I shouldn't be..."

"Let me at least patch you up before you overwork yourself," he offers, hurrying around Tsing to her, and he begins work on her arm. But as with Tsing, there is almost no change.

As his gaze meets hers, he hastily fixes his dismayed expression.

"...Not to worry. I can patch you up the normal way, too."

Time passes and I feel useless for every minute of it. I watch Nym work from his small kit, doing what he can just to remove whatever bits he can with what he's got, treating both the lizard and the captain alike.

Yhana finds me by the altar steps, and takes a seat next to me.

"You okay?" she asks me.

"I don't know," I reply honestly. I thought it would feel better to be honest again. "Are you?"

"I've been lucky. Hardly a scratch on me," she says. "But I don't know what I'm going to do after all this."

"Assuming we get out of here."

"Yeah. Assuming."

This would be a terrible note to sulk in for long, but thankfully, we do not have to. The bearded guy whose name I should learn but likely never will slips off an earpiece from the comms equipment he's attending, and begins to announce something over the general clamor, but his voice is not strong enough in his current state. Rohka notices, and accepts a kiss on the forehead from his mother before getting up, and slouches over to the Human, getting his ear nice and close, before standing upright, adjusting several dials on his mask, and by the volume of his throat clearing, I can already tell it's going to be loud.

"BACKUP IS HERE. WE CAN GO," he transmits.

"Wait, what about... her?" Jori asks, gesturing with her head to the bulkhead.

Rohka looks back to the man, leaning in close again as before, and then turns his dials back down, having gotten everyone's attention.

"Yeah, she's long gone."

As he says so, I realize I can feel the absence of something else. That tiny, searing pinpoint, which should have been projecting from somewhere ahead, downward, and to the right, has vanished.

"How can she be long gone it's been minutes," Nym sputters, dashing for the door at first, changing his mind and skidding on his heel-brakes, before going for the grate and simply tearing it out of place. Either I did a shoddy job of affixing it again or he's quite strong. After he scurries into the vent, less than a minute later, we hear knocking at the bulkhead. Again, the weasel lets him in, and he trots right in, stopping on a wide stance, wearing just as much of a look of bewilderment as moments ago.

"Well... she's gone," he confirms. "No sign of her, or her grunts, or Samsara."

At the mention of her name, those with stamina left to spare raise their fists and cheer. No doubt the sudden disappearance is her handiwork, at least in part.

"We've got materials to make stretchers with," Nym continues. "Let's see to it that everyone gets taken care of and we'll get out of here." He pauses a moment, reluctant to assert his authority any further. "Remains are not a priority."

It's not a popular decision, judging by the tone in the murmuring that swells for a moment, but nobody objects to his face. As he rejoins the group to make preparations to go, we all start assembling stretchers from mats and any suitable handles; broken polearms work just as well as the long slats of the benches in here.

Exiting the ship is much simpler than entering it had been, no enemies to shake off this time, just follow those who know what to look for and where they're going. It's not long at all before we exit through a breach in the side, the light of the evening sun almost too much for our eyes, but it illuminates a welcome sight; a number of skiffs floating just offshore, escorted by a pair of corvettes, each about the size of Tsing's ship, albeit still whole.

One wonders how they figured they would take on Eren's vessel, but I can see it off in the distance now. Farther away than it should be. I get that both she and Samsara are Fluxreaders, both clearly of great prowess, but this is bordering on absurd. I'll have time to ponder that once I'm back in the water, though.

Dominion personnel assist us with our injured and help the rest of us find seats at the sides of the skiffs, checking to make sure everyone who can be accounted for is.

Suraokh adds himself to the count as he perches next to me, seemingly from nowhere, as always, startling me again. "I am truly sorry I could not be of assistance."

"What happened to you being able to do anything? We could have used your help." I shoot back. I probably shouldn't be as upset with him as I am but my last nerve is stretched thin enough to blow away in the wind right now.

"One of those occasional disappointments," he says. "You know now what kind of force their Matriarch is. I am just glad you are intact."

"Me too," I say, slightly distracted as I check around. Nobody else I know in this boat, and none of them reacted to Suraokh's sudden arrival. "So, can you tell me about earlier? Now that whoever you're worried about isn't so close, anymore."

He fidgets a bit as the engine starts, sitting at an odd angle to look out at the ship in the distance.

"I was settling a score with an old friend, let us say. Somebody like me in purpose if not in nature."

"What does that mean?" I ask, taking another look in that direction as well. As I do, something comes over me, and my mind is pulled into the horizon.

For a few seconds, the heat returns, and it's not a pinpoint; I'm submerged in it, like a full-body sunburn. And yet, through it, I can feel a cold, hard surface beneath my back, as if I'm lying down. An asbestos countertop which black fluids run out across. I know this corpse. I caused it.

Massive metal fingers play along those obsidian ribs, and I can feel them as if they are my own. The probe at the muck, curiously but forcefully. I am surrounded by new presences, but the foremost is unmistakably Eren as she searches through the ink.

I shiver back into the moment as Suraokh touches my shoulder.

"It means they could be a threat to you, and to my mission, if they want to be."

My head turns to him slowly, realizing the implications. "I..."

"They do not have you. But they do have enough," he says, as if aware of the vision I just had, still tethered to my victim's remains.

"Did... did this happen because of me?"

"I do not know. You could not have known if it would have happened here and now, even if. Do not let this weigh heavily on you," he consoles.

I'm not letting it, at least not yet. There's not enough room in my brain for that worry while another burns itself into every ongoing thought process. I look away again, clutching my head in my hands, elbows to my knees. No, no no no no no. Not this. "Earlier... when I... when they..."

"Take your time."

"When they got me..." I can't vocalize the rest, but he knows it already; they hoped it would happen, right? They were willing to let me do what I did, just to find me?

Whatever I am, whatever Suraokh convinced me to become, is it so important that it's worth all this?

"The secret is out, Merion."