Die. Respawn. Repeat.

It is the 4,900th day of Awakening.

A hundred days have passed since the last Record. The decay has grown exponentially — we are no longer able to see outside our city. A pitch-black darkness surrounds us. Everything within, however, remains perfectly lit. The Seers are baffled, and the citizens are doing their best to contain their panic.

My sons have taken on leadership roles in the crisis. I could not be more proud of them. The elder, Juri, now helps to break up the conflicts that have been erupting more frequently between our people. Tensions are high, and I cannot blame them.

The younger, Yarun, has learned medical Firmament techniques, and applies them to healing and preventing the spread of disease. He is a kind man — I have seen him more than once, both as his patient and as his mother.

They both seem so tired, but so determined. I wish their lives could be more than this.

—6th inscription on First Sky's final Record

Zhir found himself annoyed.

It wasn't a feeling he was accustomed to. Neither of his selves—not the part of him that had the true Zhir's memories and expertise, nor the part of him that was an age-old Remnant that had been stuck in a ruined city for centuries—were the type to let something so simple slip past them.

And yet.

He should've known better than to underestimate Novi's children. His counterpart was a different matter—he knew himself better than anyone. It didn't matter how much the other version of him changed from being friends with that human. At the end of the day, he could predict how Ahkelios would act and respond. The bond they shared helped; it was next to impossible for either of them to hide how they were feeling from the other.

Novi's children, on the other hand? He'd assumed they would ignore him like they always did. Zhir had memories of babysitting them on many occasions before this one, and he could not remember a single instance of them displaying any level of tactical thinking, let alone enough to set up traps for him while they were out of sight.

Nor could he remember anything about Novi's home having defenses like these. What, had she kept secrets from him? He was her best friend!

Zhir carefully ignored the small voice in his head that was, in fact, quite proud of his best friend and her children.

He'd been careful to compartmentalize every part of himself that was Zhir. The moment he realized what was happening, the moment he noticed the dungeon reshaping itself... this was his chance, he knew. It had been a long, long time since a Ritual had begun within the Empty City, and just the thought of being able to experience something that wasn't the same ruined monotony nearly had him salivating.

He just had to play it smart. Had to take on a role that would be important enough for him to play a part, but not so important that the Ritual itself would try to reject him. Zhir was placed perfectly for that, and really, it had been almost alarmingly easy to just slot himself in his place. It was almost like the Ritual's usual defenses were distracted with something else.

Though even then, Zhir couldn't claim the transition had been perfect. No matter how much older and more experienced he was, there was some personality bleedthrough—he hadn't been able to completely suppress the original Zhir's identity. It was one of the reasons he now thought of himself with Zhir's name, even though he knew he was Ahkelios.

Well, that and things like names had lost meaning for him years ago. It was probably one of the reasons that part of Zhir had been able to assert itself so strongly; centuries alone was enough to erode any emotional tie he still had with his name. What use did he have for one when there was no one else around?

The point was that—name aside—he'd subsumed Zhir's identity almost entirely. He knew everything the scirix would have known, including how capable Novi and her family were, and he should have been prepared for something like this.

Zhir glared at the ropes binding him like disbelieving them with sufficient force would dispel them. No such luck.

Worse, from what he could tell, these things had a suppressive effect. Try as he might, he couldn't sharpen his Firmament to a blade, something that normally came to him as easy as breathing; if he could, he would've cut through these ropes in an instant. Something about them... what, disrupted his connection with his Firmament? Enough that he couldn't seem to call up any of his skills.

"Clever kids," Zhir grunted, mostly to himself. Yarun still seemed pleased by the compliment. Juri was... comparatively steadfast—he kept the blaster pointed straight at him. Zhir noticed that the kid's off-hand was trembling slightly, but not the one that held the blaster; that one stayed perfectly steady.

Well-trained, a part of himself thought proudly. Zhir quashed it.

"I'm surprised you went for your uncle and not the shiny, glowing bug-thing," Zhir said, trying to buy time. Ahkelios bristled at the description, making him smirk—it seemed the other version of him was still at least a little vain—and Juri and Yarun exchanged glances. �

"I think he's cool," Yarun announced loudly.

"And I trust my brother's instincts," Juri said, his voice dry. "That and you weren't exactly quiet about your threats."

"Ah, of course. My mistake." Zhir kept his tone genial and polite; behind his back, he worked at his bonds, testing the ropes to see if they had any give. They were good restraints, but they couldn't hold him back forever. They had to have a power source of some sort. If he could just tap into his other self's senses, see where that power source was or how close it was to being depleted...

He reached out for that shared link and found himself almost immediately rebuffed. Ahkelios glared at him, and Zhir raised an eyebrow. "What, grew a spine?" he scoffed. "You think you can keep me out?"

"You're trapped," Ahkelios said evenly. "And I know you as well as you know me. The kids involved themselves. If you get out, you're not going to let them go free, are you?"

"If I did, they might be able to tell your human what I've done," Zhir answered honestly. He left the bond between them open, practically inviting his counterpart in to look at his thoughts. "It's not like I want to kill children. You know me better than that."

"Sure." Ahkelios's expression didn't change, and to Zhir's annoyance, he didn't so much as glance at their open bond. "Except that means you're giving me little to no reason to keep you alive."

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Zhir frowned.

Ahkelios was serious, as far as he could tell. He'd assumed that his other self was soft. He was soft, from what he'd seen through their link; this other version of him was rotted through with human ideas, believed in things like kindness and freedom and some nonsense about Hestia actually being a beautiful planet. Zhir had no such memories—as far as he was concerned he'd hated nearly every moment he spent on that rock.

So he hadn't anticipated the threat. Maybe he didn't know himself quite as well as he thought. Zhir made an irritated sound in his throat, straining against his bonds again; he heard the whir of machinery as the Firmament draw increased to keep him restrained.

"Um..." Yarun said. He looked between Ahkelios and Zhir and frowned hard, like he was thinking. "I don't think we should kill him?"

He made it sound like a question. Zhir almost said something, but Juri placed a steady hand on his brother's shoulder and shook his head; his other hand tightened on the blaster. Zhir thought quickly.

"Kids," he tried. He changed his voice slightly, made it a little kinder, a little softer. "I'm still in here, trying to fight him off! Don't—"

Juri's eyes narrowed. Zhir felt a crackle of Firmament followed by searing pain; he let out a broken shout as pure Firmament tore straight through his arm. This body! When he'd been a Remnant a blast like that would've done nothing to him, but now that he'd been reshaped to play this role...

His Firmament was still strong, but his body was Zhir's. Weak. That explained how the ropes could hold him down, why they were able to suppress them the way he did. Zhir didn't quite manage to hide the way his eyes dilated, the way his breathing quickened.

"Do not," Juri said, his eyes suddenly dark with anger, "pretend to be our uncle. If he could talk he would tell us to end the threat you pose right here and now. I don't know what's happening, but I know that much."

Zhir snarled in response, his heart thundering loud enough that it was all he could hear. Panic stirred within him, dark and unfamiliar.

"Huh," Ahkelios said softly. The mantis—and how was it fair that it was this version of him that kept their original body? Even as a Remnant all he'd had was a twisted, mutated thing—stepped closer, examining him. "You're scared."

"I am not!" Zhir denied vehemently. He jerked against the ropes, angered just by the implication, only to hiss as pain radiated through his arm. He panted and tried to push through it anyway, his vision blurring as blood poured down his arm; he was dimly aware of someone shouting—

"Stop!" It was the younger of the two brothers. Yarun. Zhir stared at him in a daze. Juri was trying to pull him back, but Yarun had pushed all the way forward and grabbed on to his arm. "You're only going to make it worse! Stop it!"

"What do you care," Zhir said. His voice was strangely hoarse.

"I'm gonna be a doctor one day," Yarun declared. There was a strange intensity in his eyes. He glared at everyone in the room. "I decided. Just now. Which means no one gets hurt while I'm around. And you're going to shut up while I bandage this."

Zhir stared. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. Yarun nodded in satisfaction, then turned and marched away, presumably to find some bandages.

There was a long silence. Zhir considered testing his bonds again.

He didn't.

"I didn't mean that you were scared of this," Ahkelios said into the silence. "I meant that you're scared of going back to the Empty City. Of another hundred cycles of nothing."

Zhir's breathing quickened slightly, but he said nothing.

"What are you talking about?" Juri finally asked. "What Empty City?"

Ahkelios grimaced. "You don't want to know."

"I think I do." Juri's voice was firm.

"Just tell him," Zhir said. He sounded far more tired than he realized he felt. "The Ritual's either disrupted or it's not, at this point. Knowing more isn't going to make that much of a difference."

Ahkelios stared at him for a long moment, trying to work out of he was lying. He wasn't.

So he did.

As Yarun bandaged the wound on Zhir's arm—as Juri aimed a blaster right between his eyes—Ahkelios explained to two children the fate of their city.

To Zhir's surprise, neither of them stopped what they were doing.

"Sounds like a lie," Juri said finally. "But if it's not..."

"Then it sounds like we can still change things, right?" Yarun didn't look up from his work. He'd applied some kind of numbing cream—Zhir found to his surprise that he could move without it hurting, although the moment he tried Yarun smacked his hand and made him sit still. "This Ritual you mentioned recreates everything. And changes carry forward to the next stage."

"Maybe it matters, maybe it doesn't," Juri said. "But I don't think that changes what we have to do. It just means that now we're prepared to try."

Zhir had to admit that that wasn't the response he'd expected. And there was a grudging respect born out of that—he didn't think he could kill either of these two now. Not when he'd seen a glimpse of their spirit.

"They remind me of home," Zhir said quietly. Ahkelios glanced at him.

"You're thinking about—?"

"Yeah." It felt like an aeon ago, and Zhir couldn't remember their names or their faces anymore. But he remembered that they'd had friends. Childhood friends that carried a similar optimism all the way into their adulthood and Integration. Juri and Yarun reminded him of them. The few times he'd been able to contact home...

Zhir couldn't remember the last time he'd even been able to talk to anyone about home. Ahkelios was different, but even he hadn't had anyone else understand what they'd lost.

"I just want to go home," he admitted after a moment. His voice was quiet. Lost.

"Our home might not even be there anymore," Ahkelios said. Something in Zhir tightened at those words; he hadn't wanted to hear them.

"So you're not even going to try to get back?"

"I didn't say that." Ahkelios shook his head. "I will try. And Ethan will help me. We're going to find out what happened."

"You really think he'll do that?" Zhir looked at his counterpart. "He's got his own planet to worry about."

"Trust me," Ahkelios said, snorting. "He can care about more than one planet."

"And if he can't?"

"He can." Ahkelios's gaze didn't waver. "You don't know him."

"And you do."

"I know enough."

Zhir didn't need to tap into their link to see that Ahkelios actually believed that. He tugged briefly at his ropes and paused.

They were weaker now. He could break free from them if he wanted.

And then what?

All he wanted was to see his home again, and if Ahkelios was to be believed...

"I won't force you to give up your identity," Zhir said finally. It felt like he was forcing out the words.

Ahkelios watched him for a moment. "But?"

"But I won't give up mine that easily, either." Zhir shrugged, then offered his counterpart a smile. It was a bitter and twisted thing, he knew, but it was the best he could do. "If we integrate, only one of us is coming out as the dominant personality. And I'm not giving mine up to you."

"I suppose coexistence isn't a possibility," Ahkelios said dryly. Zhir shook his head.

"Not for me," he said. "Maybe if I—we—were someone else. But I'll make you a promise, at least."

Ahkelios raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"I'll make sure that friend of yours is safe," Zhir said. "Even if I win. I won't kill him and steal his core."

"Very generous of you," Ahkelios said. "I notice you're not promising not to let him die so you can take the core."

Zhir shrugged. "Make no mistake," he said. "I'm not your friend. But... I'm tired."

Ahkelios seemed to understand. He reached out with a hand. "When you're ready, then."

Zhir stared at the open hand. His bonds were loose now. He could take this moment to attack.

He took the hand. "I'm ready," he said.

And in a scientist's home, somewhere in the outskirts of First Sky, there was a bright flash of Firmament.