[b]Redana![/b]

The Hermetic waved a tendril half-irritably. "Desist from panic. I will answer as many questions as you possess. It is... [i]unorthodox[/i]," he said the word like one might say 'filled with scorpions', "but I am extending to you the rights of apprenticeship without the obligations. I would not presume to command the blood of Empire, but nor will I deny your curiosity. This means I will help you learn the secrets of the Saffron Path for as long as you wish to walk it."

[Forge a bond with Iskarot the Hermetic]

"Perhaps there is lost context," he buzzed thoughtfully. "[i]Something [/i]has been lost. It would take the act of either a god or an Empress to destroy such a vital piece of information on this scale. And it is critical that it be rediscovered, otherwise in time the galaxy will fall back to primitive times, becalmed on a million islands."

[b]Dolce![/b]

You step into a spilled garden. Soft grass beneath your hooves, wild flowers in pink and white growing in patches. Chaotic but not overgrown despite however many years or decades they have waited here in this forgotten room. The coarse white granite walls are tattered with ivy and a single blossoming tree lets a perpetual shower of white petals fall.

And amidst the flowers and grass, bones.

You step into a tomb.

Here lie dozens of long-dead bodies, eroded away to clean-picked skeletons. Swords, pistols, and imperishable jewellery decorate the fallen. There are more gemstones than should be natural, for the strange influence of Hades causes them to blossom like the flowers they lie amidst. These bodies were not laid out according to funeral rites with respect and honour - they lie where they fell, spears still penetrating their ribs, only the murmured ghost of a battlefield.

Two bodies catch your eye. Two skeletons lying side by side, bones having fallen and tangled into each other. Amidst their bodies curves stems and thorns resolving into a glittering pink and purple rose. It binds together the dead in a gentle weave, emerging between them like a single shared heart.

[b]Alexa![/b]

"It is," said the princess, arms wrapped around your neck.

For a long and silent moment you freefall alongside each other, beholding the vista of the galaxy in all its transcendent beauty. It's so peaceful you don't notice at first when you start to accelerate. Then the wind starts whistling through your ears and you're picking up speed faster and faster and at the end of the corridor you can see the spectacular molten glow of the Engine and the enormous stack of grav-plates that the Hermetic has left carelessly vertical. 

You're heading rapidly towards a terminal velocity impact. Would it have killed Iskarot to put up a sign?

[b]Bella![/b]

There's a moment too when you're in the arms of a friend, safer than you've ever been, safe in the knowledge that you wore a shield of love proof against any harm. 

It changes as you do. As you become hard and sharp, so does Mynx and you can feel her change from shield to sword against your skin. 

"Of course, Praetor," said Mynx, as professional as you'd ever heard her. There's only the faintest reluctance in how she steps away and points to the maps and charts laid out on the table - perfectly ready for this moment when you wanted to make a plan. "The augur confirmed we're on our way to Barassidar. The planet is a mess. All sentient life was long since wiped out, leaving only roaming armies of machine intelligences."

There are two Imperial Seals on this map. The first one is from the Office of Fleet Security, warning that the planet is an Alpha-class hazard - the same rating applied to the Eater of Worlds while it lived. The second is from the Office of Reintegration, a tiny and bizarre agency of Demeter worshippers who report directly to the Empress. It's a seal you've never seen before, stating simply 'Valid Resurrection Target'.

"This planet is still the epicentre of the Athena-Ares battle," said Mynx. "Appeasing both of them will be impossible, and whichever one we don't favour will side against us. Which god should we align with, Praetor?"