Chapter 389: The Ask

The calls had been made before the next orb cycle had started.

Lucian was in charge of formalities. Lucifer handled the necessary face-to-face meetings. By the time the main audience hall beneath the Origin Palace had been sealed, the ones still capable of making a difference, and the ones who had it within themselves to still make a choice, had arrived.

Temmy stood near the left wall, her hands still faintly glowing with spirit light from the mobile node fight. Francisca took a more central location, her seven tails gathered and held in a disciplined bundle, the pressure on her seat still there but no longer overriding her presence. Remu leaned against one of the support pillars in her witch-scripted clothes, her gaze following the others with the calm awareness of someone who had personally felt the harvest’s pull already once. A few others marked the hall’s periphery with their presence – origin support captains, one dragon-blood lieutenant trusted by Rhazor, two of the border fighters who had managed to survive the counter-hunt cells.

Lucifer did not waste time on preamble.

"The orb’s tempo is no longer gradual," he said. "The being forced the climb after the last projection fight. We are speaking of forming a final charge, breaking the spine of the enclave, and ending the harvest. This is no longer a question of relays and cutouts and rescues. You will either join the charge that will end the threshold engine’s ability to complete its cycle, or you will hold your own seats and relays in whatever measure you can manage while the being finishes its business. I will not hear any platitudes. State your intentions."

The hall was silent for a few long moments, then Francisca spoke.

"My seat is under residual drag," she said. "If the orb completes, that drag turns into a killing sequence with optional extras. I crossed the field once already. I will cross it again."

Remu pushed herself off the pillar.

"I am done with the feeling of others’ engines drinking through my edges. If there is a possibility to break the spine, I am taking that possibility and leaving the next phase of the schedule to those who will complete it."

Temmy’s hands curled once at her sides, spirit light flashing, then dimming as she exhaled. She met his gaze without blinking. "I was nearly claimed by the mobile node myself. I know what the harvest feels like when it finishes. I do not have the luxury of staying home and pretending the harvest does not happen while the rest of you risk your lives ending it. I will cross the field with you."

One of the border fighters, a wiry woman with scars crisscrossing her forearms from the counter-hunt, gave a short, single nod. "My people were caught in the outer districts when the hunter forces came through. If ending the thing that caused it is what it takes, you have me."

Not all were so willing. One of the unsettled candidates from the outer courts gave a sharp shake of his head, and no embellishment was needed for his refusal. "I barely survived the binding cuts of that node’s trial. If I step into the grounds of the enclave itself, I will turn to ash. I will hold the local lines and relays. I am not foolish enough to think I belong on the front lines of a spine-breaking charge."

Rhazor’s lieutenant, dressed in the layered leather of the dragon-blood commander position, gave an equally firm shake of his head. "Rhazor has already thrown his lot and person into the effort. I can spare a support wing, but not the reserves that would be needed to commit the whole of the seat’s remaining strength to a possibly suicidal strike. You have my wing, but no more."

Lucian listened to all the replies in silence, making notes on the parchment in front of him before he looked up at the gathered faces once more. "So it is settled, in as much as it can be. The final charge before the harvest completes gains the services of Francisca, Remu, Temmy, one border wing, and limited dragon support. We lose the services of one unsettled candidate, and the ability to count on any reinforcements beyond what we already have."

Aeloria, who had been standing in silent observation near the hall’s entrance, crossed her arms over her chest. "That is actually a solid enough line if we consider the people we know will be able to contribute. The charge still consists primarily of the core – Lucifer, Nyx, Lilith, Heron, Zane, Anita, and the origin support captains we already have. It is not an overwhelming force, but it is a viable one."

Nyx’s darkness slithered along the floor near her feet. "We do not have the luxury of comfort anymore since the being accelerated the clock. Viable is our new standard."

Lilith studied the faces of the ones who had volunteered to charge the enclave, taking in their words and expressions with a calculating look. "Make sure you understand what you are getting into. The chamber will not care whether you have already survived the binding lines or not – if you break during the approach, you will die there. If you reach the spine and are unable to hold your lane, you will die at the threshold. Your survival is not in their hands, so make sure you do not expect them to be gentle."

Francisca’s tails gave a single, sharp flick. "Good to know. I prefer straightforward terms."

Temmy swallowed, then gave a small, determined nod. "I am glad to hear it."

Remu’s lips twitched at the corner. "Then stop reminding us and get on with preparing the charge before the window closes."

Lucifer looked at the ones who had crossed the field to stand beside him, and those who had remained on the far side. Both groups had made their choices, and both would pay the price for them.

"Lucian will organize the preparations before this hall opens again," he said. "The ones who have crossed will report to Damaris and Lilith to practice the anti-harvest patterns until the launch window opens. Those who have not joined the charge will take up defensive and relay positions offered by the palace lattice. No one is permitted to linger before their turn comes."

He paused briefly as the reality of their choices settled over the gathered people.

"This is the charge we have. We will make it enough."

The hall’s doors began to open in both directions, letting the people who had crossed the field to the front move toward the preparation grounds, and the others to their assigned posts.

Outside, the orb continued its forced climb. Inside the palace, the final charge against the being’s harvest had begun to take shape, prepared not in blind hope, but in the names of those who had chosen to meet the end on its terms.