Two days until the blood-moon.

The star-sent truck jolted into the air over the hill's crest. Winter air whipped along Javelin's snout and under her helmet. Her grip on the tailgate handle was as tight as her grin was wide.

It was hunting season.

The valley of layered stone and sparse grass below was ablaze with bright orange in the afternoon sun. It was the farthest north she had ever been, but the strike team went wherever the enemy was. A swarm of abhorrent crawled along the farther edge, barely noticing the vehicle charging straight for them.

Javelin stood up, feeling her grounding harness tighten. She called out over the crouched strike team with glee. "Target spotted!"

The Creator reached an armored hand out the driver's window and slapped the roof. "Hold! Stack up to engage on broadside! Wait for hunters!"

The captain steadied her footing as she readied her gustav with a round of high-explosive anti-tank, racking the bolt of her UKM with her lower arms. Three shields clanked against the truck's storage bed, their holders crouched to fire over. Javelin reflexively glanced back to ensure her back blast was safe, bringing the recoilless rifle over her shoulder.

A predatory mouth covered the end of the tube, its teeth sharp and menacing. The rattling sights on the side found their way onto the biggest beast in the field. Wheels rumbled and the hull shook, doing everything to separate her from the target.

The truck jerked and turned to the right, but she rotated and held her weapon locked. Her talon twitched over the trigger.

…Give the order.

"Hunters are clear! Focus on the right side! Fire at will!" Harrison shouted, holding a hundred meters distance from the horde.

Distance. Velocity. Trajectory. Intuition… Skill.

'Thunk.'

Her shoulder tensed as the round screeched across the abhorrent and into the colossi, setting off a glorious explosion of gore. The grunts squealed under the deafening fire of Brownings. She joined in, indiscriminately firing her UKM while she reloaded the gustav with another round.

Gnashing maws and rabid claws tore across the ground as the horde directed its course toward them. Flying beasts attempted to take to the air, but were gunned down just as quickly with a hail of tracers.

Two hunters, one painted in bones with colossus tusks like a boar and the other sea dragon scales, carved into the left flank with bullets and blades. They soared into the air with blue jets and struck with fury.

It was carnage as usual, but with speed and clatter as their great chariot charged across the stone field. She kept her feet braced, constantly working against the jostling of the truck as it circled around the slow horde. Bullets picked the mass of abhorrent apart in a matter of minutes.

They could not keep up. They were constantly lulled into a new direction and split between the mechs and the truck. Only the rare ballista dared to dent their shields.

Before long, there was only a mess of green blood and shells left on the sheets of flat stone. The truck never once stopped, continuing onwards through the valley while there was still sunlight.

Javelin crouched down and grabbed onto the tailgate handlebar, still grinning.

"Excellent first strike, captain," her new shieldswoman counterpart complimented. She rotated her shield brace around her waist and attached her bulwark to her back so she could sit down.

"My appreciations," the yellow-skinned spear responded proudly, watching the dead swarm slowly disappear as the truck roared up another hill.

'Every bug killed now is one we don't have to kill later,' Harrison said that morning. Javelin could not be happier with such a statement. Her chief had such a way with perfectly expressing her ideas so succinctly. A full hive raid was not feasible, but culling the abhorrent one swarm at a time certainly was. Not to mention, it was good training for target acquisition.

Trees and boulders swiftly passed by the vehicle. The very air whipped and pushed against her armor, flickering with the bouncing suspension over rough terrain. Holding on around each sharp turn brought a smirk to her lips. Joy sparked in her with pumping adrenaline and a tail thwacking against the wheel guards. She could not even bring herself to participate in any of the strike-team's conversations, what with the thrilling speed and freedom of the afternoon.

Only the Mountain Lord knew how excited her juvenile self would have been to see her now. Star-sent weapons, a foe to challenge her, and comrades to protect. The legends the script-keeper told her were once only daydreams and fantasies. But now? They were as real as the steel she wore.

"Next swarm is half a click away!" the Creator announced, perking up every spear in the storage bed. "Set up for another broadside!"

Javelin got up to her feet again and shouldered her gustav. She braced her footing against the ground as the truck raced down another hill and into a bush-filled dale.

Her eyes locked onto the largest monster in the crowd of vile creatures with a predatory grin. The stupid, confused beast could barely comprehend what was approaching it so fast.

She locked her sights onto it, ready to shake the ground with a single trigger.

A quote from Artificer Tracy resonated perfectly with her thoughts.

"Bitches love cannons."

= = = = =

Vodny had learned much under Cera's guiding hand: combat, stealth, and observation. She had spent much of her time perfecting the latter, spending countless hours watching and learning. Yet, the more the shadow surveyed the forests beyond, the less she understood…

The inquisition were not the only beasts watching from the trees.

Vodny's infrared reticle was awash with gray subtle heat signatures of the trees beyond the field of chopped trunks. Yet, a flicker of a dim white creature crawled behind the branches. It was not perfectly clear, obscured by the thermal scope and the interfering flora.

The shadow continued to trace its trajectory from her concealed position. She thought it to be a hyena-boar, but it was much too large. What little brush that lived through winter covered it well, barely outlining the jerking limbs of its crawl.

Left to right to left again, the thing drew nearer with every aimless step. Or, what she assumed to be aimless. The vague shape meandered as if it had no goal in mind… But no matter how many turns or circles it made, it was closer than before.

Her frills twitched as she took in Harrison's conversation several meters away, confirming if he was any wiser to whatever was two hundred meters out. If it was anything to be expected… No. It was not. Her chief was too deep into his work, discussing turret placements with the leaders.

There were fewer obfuscating branches as the seconds ticked by and the creature snuck closer. It was quiet. No snapping of twigs, nor the disturbance of any wildlife—not that there were many around the fortress. Everything was naturally silent against the constant roar of industry and warfare from behind.

She had worked tirelessly in her training to hear what did not wish to be heard. Her skills were hardly those of Cera's, but they were enough.

Nothing wanted to be around this beast.

Her eyes were sharpened behind the scope, taking in what they could and adding together a shape that simply did not make sense—limbs like tails and claws, a chest like the abhorrent's, and no head.

It crawled behind a thickened tree trunk… and did not come out the other side. She waited for it to pass.

…But it did not. Vodny traced her sights over the immediate area, left with nothing but the dull gray outlines of branches. Her eyes widened.

Impossible.

Her futile attempts to look anywhere else were left with the same barren forest she had overseen. She pulled her head away from the scope, uncaring of her revealed position. There was nothing but the cold, dull bark and the last vestiges of daylight scattered along the lifeless treeline. Shadows overtook most of the mainland by then, cast by the very branches that concealed the bizarre beast.

For the first time since then, her spine shivered with a cold wave of uncertainty. She suddenly felt very alone, despite the others nearby. It was just her, what she thought she saw, and a world far larger than she ever knew.

A deep breath resettled her heartbeat as she aimed in once more. She was not so weak. Not anymore.

Her thermals scanned the entire border between deforestation and obscuring branches. The boughs by the coastal rocks moved with the wind. The forest behind was thick and colorless. Nothing besides the expected resided in her vision.

She rotated her rail gun further toward the east, returning to the form Cera taught her—one that emphasized steady and stealthy motions. Malkrin eyes were trained to detect swift movements.

Seconds passed slowly with each agonizing degree of movement. But her scope stayed gray as the mainland took on the darkness of night. She slightly adjusted the range of temperatures halfway through.

But there was nothing. It was as if the creature disappear—

A white figure stepped out from behind the treeline into her line of sight—a Malkrin figure… female.

The stranger stood tall amongst the trees, its arms and tail completely limp. She was almost lifeless. Her shoulders did not move with breaths, nor did any part of her look anything other than white-hot on thermals.

…It appeared on thermals.

Vodny clenched her teeth, her breath coming faster and shallower.

She turned her scope's infrared layer off, but was met with darkness. She flipped on the night vision overlay.

There was a naked female… but it was no stranger. Vodny knew those ropeburn wrist scars. The forward tilt of her frills. The curve of her lower fins… She knew that bare chest like she knew her own, for it was no different than her own.

It was her twin's.

Her heart pounded as she took in the form of her blood-sister, drenched in the green of night vision. She need not see the gray skin, for it was assured to be there. The faintest blossom of excitement grew in her chest at the sight. It was a deep longing like no other. She missed her other half. She pined for Morskoy's embrace and the certainty of her company. No other soul could replace the one who knew her best.

A shaky exhale left a painful hole in her chest. Morskoy even had her horns, trailing blood down her brows and into… her… eyes…

Two black, hollow cavities of flesh marred her face, ripping out any semblance of false relief.

There was nothing in those sockets. No flame. No life.

It was an eyeless husk.

…And it stared directly into Vodny.

She could not move. The puppeted caricature stood like an obelisk in the dark, unmoving as it glared at her. Faint gusts of wind blew at frills that were too weak to stand on their own, flapping like loose skin.

Its entire face was loose. Crooked in all the wrong ways. Malleable and limp.

But those holes, those eyes she wanted to see so desperately… Without them, there was nothing to recognize, nothing to cherish. There was only a facade.

Vodny slowly racked the bolt of the rail gun, and let a round slide into the chamber. She stabbed her talon through the trigger guard with a snarl, wrinkling her snout with ire.

Morskoy was dead. She would not be impersonated. She would not be mocked.

The shadow lined up her shot, placing the crosshairs right between its hollow sockets.

May the foul mockery burn at the foot of the Mountain for all eternity.

'click'—'THWOOM'

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The silenced shot split the skull in half. Its fuze only set off on the ground behind, throwing up dirt into the air as the body slowly fell back.

Vodny did not let the upheaval of the Creator's conversation nearby stop her. She fired another round into the trembling body of the puppeted caricature.

The vile mimic shook and vibrated violently. Tendrils of flesh burst through its skin, pulling the wicked corpse away.

She fired again and again, hitting it back into the dirt with thirty-seven-millimeter rounds, but it kept slipping away through the trees and into the forest. The shadow turned her thermals on again, but had already lost all opportunities.

It would not slip away uncontested. The drones could burn it. She stood up and looked over at the startled Sharkrin leaders a few meters away. They stared at her with uncertainty and intrigue.

"Great Creator, I require your assistance," she spoke flatly.

The inquisition were not the only beasts watching them from the trees.

= = = = =

Another night closer, another dozen check-list items accounted for.

All the turrets were fully set up with an additional matrix-coordinate aiming subsystem to work alongside reconnaissance drones, so they could operate without direct line of sight. Harrison had also managed to finally set up a proper machine line for the casings and bullet tips of the forty-millimeter cannons in the area where the oil barrels used to be. The same could be said for the dumb-fire MLRS napalm and cluster rockets, with a focus on the long-range version.

Then there were the few hours discussing effective turret and Malkrin field of vision over the walls… And the optimization of bench-blast limestone harvesting that morning, on top of finalizing the on-site metal-refining in the cave. The three sewist males were tested on their medical skills and proved themselves capable for the blood-moon. Harrison even got around to starting on Monbishoppe's list of the people's wants, starting with making a small charity box in one of the living areas, of all things… Though that was hardly anything compared to the request of bringing entire villages to the mainland—a project for another month.

…Which led him to the final job of the day. It wasn't as much of a job as it was just the last thing he had on the docket until he could collapse into Shar and Tracy. He was dog tired, and his mind was already fried. This would be the last night he got any sleep until the blood-moon was over, anyway.

The engineer made his way through the stone paths, heaters, and street-lights, covered with his warm, grease-bunny-scented fur coat. A group of harvesters, huddled around a wood-carved statue of a colossus, turned and bowed their heads to him with a few words of greeting. He waved back and smiled.

There were very few settlers wandering about by that time of night, with most of them either learning Malkrin script with the script-keeper or doing some other hobby before getting ready for bed. So, theoretically, the church would be empty by then.

He pushed open one of the massive wooden doors with a little effort, walking in before closing it behind himself. The creak and the following clap of the shut entrance echoed through the stone hall.

It was darker inside than expected. A few candles lit up the stained glass windows on either side, while electric chandeliers above offered a warm glow to everything else up until the altar. Main lights lit up the three deities' symbols on the walls along the three cruxes in three cardinal directions from the central altar.

The shape, the rows of pews, and the pillars were familiar… close enough to be recognizable as a Christian church, if not a bit deviated from the orthodox one his mother used to take him to.

It brought up a lot of questions that battered his mind as his footsteps clacked along the stone floor down the nave… Some he didn't even want to start pondering, really. But there were too many coincidences for him to ignore at that point.

He knew he wouldn't get full answers until he finally started really digging into the colony's past, but at the very least, he could start figuring out how they influenced the Malkrin. Tracy said Rei had been talking about a depth-sent legend looking a lot like Max's cyclops body, and Shar corroborated with it. That by itself gave him some ideas beyond how the locals knew about electricity.

Akula stood by her sect's side of the church. She wore her usual heated skinsuit. It did well to keep her warm, plus Chef had only good things to say about seeing her toned figure at all times. Her eyes were closed and three of her hands were clasped together with their fingers curled over one another. The subtle waving of her frills implied she was mid-prayer. Her ears slightly flickered at his entrance.

His footsteps subconsciously came a little quieter. The priest wasn't at the altar, nor was he anywhere else in sight. Akula said Monbishoppe was interested in discussing her sect further, but evidently not tonight.

"…have guided their arms into glorious battle. Your faithful adherent has assured his…" the strict, dark green-skinned Malkrin whispered into his mind.

He stopped at the front row pews and waited for the overseer to finish. His eyes wandered the walls as he tried not to eavesdrop, appreciating the detail Cera put into the stained glass murals of the mountain, star, and wave. Eventually, they landed on the altar at the center of the three. Simple woodwork and curves made up the base and edges of the anvil-shaped centerpiece. There wasn't anything spectacular about it, but the homespun nature of it struck him as somewhat comforting.

"…our aims will give back as we have taken…" the overseer continued, unperturbed.

That same comfort spread through his thoughts on the 'Mountain' religion. There weren't very many hyper-detailed rules to follow, sins to stray away from, or convoluted history to learn, at least from what he heard from the Father Monbishoppe's account of his sect. It wasn't a gavel to beat a follower over the head, but a guiding hand—despite how the paladins and inquisitors acted. A lot of it sounded like a guide in general, given the Mountain God's focus on labor, community, and prosperity to improve the next generation's quality of living.

"…have let us thrive through your continuous benevolence. I thank you on behalf of all your blessed iterations of the Cycle. May your creations prosper by our hand."

Akula raised her head slowly, looking back at him through the corner of her eye. He could see an exhausted dullness in her irises that slowly gained vigor as she took him in, matching her quiet voice. "Good evening, Creator. I am pleased you were able to make it tonight, what with our grand preparations."

"For good reason," he answered amicably, walking toward her.

She turned halfway around in place, respectfully holding all four hands behind her back. "A good ruler seeks knowledge as best as she can… he can."

Harrison crossed his arms over his chest, nodding toward her mostly empty wing of the church. "Certainly. Tonight, can you tell me about your prayers? What do you pray for? The cycle? Others? Yourself? …If you're allowed to."

"It is quite humorous you ask such," she stated, despite keeping an unexcited expression. Her gaze flickered over to the opposite wall, where the land faith worshiped. "You expect my thoughts to be like those who climb the Mountain… I once believed their prayers were quite selfish when I first came unto the land. Who were they, servants of their Lord, to ask him for gifts and benefits and swell tidings the next day?"

Akula paused in thought. Her voice returned somewhat more somberly, rather than the pompousness he expected. "My people of the Cycle, they do not pray for such things when they speak to our Goddess. Any words given to our director should be of reverence or duty. I will thank her and assure her I have been faithful to her wishes… As it should be."

Harrison nodded along, stepping up beside her to inspect her corner more closely. "You work on behalf of the Sea Goddess as protectors of the Cycle. Right… What did you mean by 'once thought their prayers were selfish?' Do you mean something's changed?"

"One should not take what they do not give. It is not the people's right to ask without giving. But, that is not the whole story," she admitted slowly, covering up a subtle embarrassment by keeping a stern expression.

"They take, true, but they do not take for selfish reasons. They pray for the health of their infirm, the prosperity of their communities, and the future of the pups. It is taking, but not often for themselves… I never went out of my way to speak with one from their sect's clergy until recently. I recognize now that their Mountain Lord encourages this behavior, for he champions the way we Malkrin were meant to bond and care for one another."

"Labor, community, and prosperity," the engineer added. He had already put together why the land people's offerings were mostly 'useless' shiny rocks or pebbles, rather than food or anything important.

Their sect of the religion promoted charity, or at least Monbishoppe did. It was not like welfare was really needed here, but Harrison went along with it. The charity box in the settlement wouldn't have food or clothes, but it might have some handmade items in it for the winter.

However, on the other side of the religious scale, Akula's people didn't take what they didn't give, so their side of the church was empty. It made sense then, from their perspective. Why take things from the world as an offering to a goddess that specifically didn't want them to take things? Their worship wasn't so much in the church as it was in their everyday actions.

The overseer let out a long exhale. She did her best to uphold her confident exterior, but her sober expression emphasized a deeper empathy in her. "Indeed. Their faith's tenets are strong. I will not say that I follow their customs, but when I pray at Morskoy's, Medic's, or the seamstress' boulders of remembrance, I do pray for their health and their success in the afterlife. It is not so selfish a thing to want others to find success, I believe."

He mentally recoiled and softly shook his head in a brief moment of shock, pleasantly surprised to hear that. "I… agree. Definitely. I was always taught that you should pray for others, even your enemies."

Akula tilted her head, a keen interest in her tone. "Enemies…? Do you pray to the Sky goddess for such things?"

"No, I…" He stopped himself, blinking away the fog in his mind. He'd gotten too comfortable speaking frankly with her. "How do you measure what's taken and what's given in the Cycle?"

She raised a brow at his deflection, but continued anyway, using the wait to straighten her shoulders. "It depends on which aspect of this world we are focused on. There is little we can give to the cycle of the tides, while there is so much we can take from the living cycle. Everything is composed of its own unique revolving pattern. If you disrupt one facet, you could affect a hundred. This is difficult to understand and act upon, certainly. So, we focus on the larger level to work on understanding and replacing what we take."

Akula reached down and pointed a sharp talon at his chest. "You, of all individuals, understand the importance of killing the predators of us Malkrin. Those of the Sea Kingdom's houses are no different. Predators who encircle our homes and livelihoods are a danger that must be dealt with. There is no shame in it, for we must defend ourselves to persist. Such is natural, even in our position as caretakers."

She brought her hand back, holding a finger up in exception. "But, in such a case, one must recognize the purpose of a predator in the network of flora and fauna. We only hunt them until they are not such a threat to us. We monitor their populations carefully, such that they are in line with the rest of the cycle. For if we hunt predators, who will keep the prey's population down? They would spiral and eat the reef sparse. Do you understand?"

Harrison tilted his head in a so-so manner. "It's basic food chain philosophy. I'm sure some of your people back in the sea-kingdom would love to see population graph simulations. But what about everything else? I know it's kind of about the food chain, but you mentioned you had gardeners. I'm guessing they make food in a way that integrates with nature?"

Akula cracked a small smirk. "Precisely. There is a balance to providing sustenance for one's house and for the rest of the cycle. Those of the land describe gardening as tending a small patch of plants to feed themselves and their family, while true gardeners develop nature across even the most barren corners of the sea. They do not merely grow food, but instead spread the amount of food to be had across the ocean. This way, the population which eats flora may grow and, in turn, the same with the predators."

He bit the side of his cheek for a moment, hesitantly drawing in a quick breath. "So what about mineral harvesting? If I was going to bring back your House—or any House, actually—under the Sharkrin flag, would they have any issues with harvesting hundreds of thousands of tons of metals? I can't help but notice that you haven't brought up any complaints about it yet."

"Such things are a part of the ground; the Cycle does not include them. All I can think of is one's duty to reuse rather than dispose of that which does not decompose, which you do admirably, on account of your recycler and barrel storage."

He raised a brow at 'reuse' and 'decompose.' "And you know these duties from…?"

"The words of our foremothers passed on from the Goddess herself—The Caretaker's Warnings."

Harrison froze, a bolt of confusion and realization channeling down his spine.

Warnings? Why warnings? Why not commandments? Tenants? Anything?

His eyes sharpened into a squint as his brain pushed together the scattered puzzle pieces into an uncertain shape, missing a few components to truly put it together… If Akula's religion was passed down by word of intent, how much of an impact did 'deity-sents' have on it?

He didn't say anything, forcing the growing suspicion in his mind away from his mouth. All he could do was force his head to bob in understanding.

The dark green-skinned overseer intently stared down at him, her breath held. "I can see the hesitance in your eyes, Creator. You need not fear the opinions of my House. They will fall in line. You have my assurance."

Harrison's mind hadn't even wandered to that pitfall yet, too wound up in what the other 'warnings' were. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were caught in his throat. His teeth clasped shut as his gaze went to anywhere else. What would he even ask? Shouldn't he be focusing on the applicable problems that she just brought up?

Akula held a hand out in explanation. Her tone kept its natural self-assuredness, but the glow in her eyes and how fast she spoke exposed a covered anxiety. "If you worry about disrespecting our faith with your ways, we can work on bringing the Cycle into the fortress or any further expansions come spring. Nature, although hearty in its ways, is malleable and can be brought into the area around our domiciles or used in construction. You are both resourceful and adaptive in your star-sent strategies, so I have faith in your abilities to blend industry with the Goddess' creations."

"Yeah yeah… Of course," he assured, scratching the back of his neck. He had already lost his train of thought several times; it was stretched far between dredging up past interactions, digesting the current information, and wondering just how the hell he was going to fit multiple cultures together under the same flag.

Harrison took in another deep breath and focused on the most pressing issues, no matter how curious he was. His full attention returned to the overseer. "Though, that does beg the question. How can I fully gather the support of—"

'CREEEEEEAAK.'

"—your House…" his voice fell away as he and Akula turned toward the entrance.

A hooded Tracy appeared from the dark night, struggling to keep the heavy, wooden door open while she squeezed through. She stuffed her sleeved hands into her grease-stained sweatshirt and scanned the room until she locked eyes with him. The late-night, messy-haired beauty wore heavy eye bags and absolutely rocked that oddly-charming half-dead slouch. Her work boots echoed along the floor as she made a beeline toward him.

He felt his shoulders relax at the sight of her, his heart warmed by her comfortable, sleepy appearance. She only stopped a few feet away and briefly looked at Akula, who offered a tilted head. The technician slowly blinked and leaned forward like a teetering bowling pin until gravity could be used as momentum that slammed into his chest.

Harrison naturally wrapped his arms around the mumbling lady, though the sticky manufacturing stains made squeezing a different question altogether. His brows were raised incredulously and a smirk cut through his lips. "Hi… can I help you?"

"Hold."

"You?"

"Mmmmyeah," she drowsily grumbled into his chest, collapsing into him with the weakest attempt at a hug.

He held a finger up to Akula to signal 'just one minute' before kissing the top of her hooded head. "Trace… You're covered in lubricant and oil."

She nuzzled into him until a big, loving eye peeked through the cloth and black hair. "We can take a shower together… Just lemme sleeeeb for a min."

The engineer sighed. "I'm in the middle of a conversation… Can I at least sit down?"

Tracy nodded into him, letting him pick her up by her armpits. She lazily wrapped her legs around his waist and nestled her chin around his neck while he shuffled to the first row of pews. He let himself down with the not-so-encumbering weight of the five-foot-two-inch-tall woman.

Akula offered a slightly puzzled look, to which he could only shrug. Her eyes glanced behind him toward the door. "We are able to stop our conversation here if you need. I have answered a few of your questions."

Harrison softly scratched his lover's scalp and shook his head, lowering his voice. "It's fine. Trace already knows everything."

She shook her head, pulling out her trapper hat. "No. I understand I asked you to join me at an already late hour. You should rest before tomorrow, and I should not be taking you away from your mates… I too should be looking for my Chef."

"…I guess that's fair," he relented, finding an irresistible urge to squeeze his tiny technician. "We can put a pin in this conversation for now. Next time, after the blood-moon, let's get Monbishoppe here. I think I'd like to figure out integration further."

The overseer bowed. "Of course. Once we are through the horde, there shall be much opportunities to grow."

"That there will be."

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