[High Orbit, Between Worlds]
Void's jumpship cruised steadily into orbit and accelerated. The thrusters flared and stars stretched into thin lines across the horizon, as if someone had dragged a brush through wet paint.
Void had barely settled into the calm when his wrist buzzed.
Obsidian flicked a small icon into the corner of Void's visor.
[INCOMING CALL: IKORRA REY]
Void stared at it a beat, then accepted.
Her voice cut through the silence.
"What are you up to?" Ikorra asked, "And why did I just get a request from you for Asher Mir?"
Void exhaled through his nose and leaned back in the pilot's chair. "Because I need him," he replied.
Ikorra didn't bite. "That's not the answer I'm looking for."
Void glanced to Obsidian and raised his brow, but the Ghost rotated slowly, pretending he was not listening.
He sighed.
"You already know I was on Venus when that ether bomb went off. I'm just trying to make sense of what I saw. I was in the middle of the Vex and Fallen skirmish, and since I already know enough about the Eliksni, catching up on the Vex didn't seem like a bad idea."
"Besides. The Vex didn't react as I expected them to, and that rubbed me the wrong way." Void shrugged, "I figured it wouldn't hurt to consult an expert."
Ikorra paused.
"You were on Venus," she repeated, and it sounded like she was filing it away for later. "And you think Asher is the best person to talk to."
"Isn't he the only person to talk to?" Void replied. "Most people in the City hear 'Vex' and start praying or shooting. Asher actually understands what he's looking at."
"That may be true," Ikorra chuckled. "It's also true that the last time you met up with an aforementioned expert from the City, you stabbed him through the heart. "
Void's brow lifted. "Oh, please, you really think I'd do that to him?"
"No. No, I don't." Ikorra exhaled through her nose, "But people talk. Some of this talk naturally reached Asher's ears. Which is why, after your debacle with the City, he went and became a recluse."
Void gave a small chuckle, as she'd just said something funny. "Seclusion doesn't mean hidden, Ikorra. What did he even do that for?"
"Well, considering he and Toland were both present for the lunar missions with your team, he might've been under the impression that you'd search for him as well to...even the odds."
Silence.
Void pushed on anyway. "Really? That's the excuse? "
"I can't force him to think a certain way, Void. Fact is, Asher Mir isn't looking to meet anyone right now. Not even us."
"I didn't ask if he was looking to meet." Void pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've got a new system now. You've got eyes everywhere. Don't tell me you don't know where he is."
Ikorra didn't deny it. That was answer enough.
"All I'm asking for is a location," Void said. "I'll take care of the rest."
"You always say that," Ikorra replied.
Void's voice softened, just slightly. "Because I mean it."
Another pause. Longer.
Then Ikorra finally spoke again.
"He's on Io," she said. "Last I heard from him, he found something there. Strange Patterns. Vex structures that don't match what we've logged before. He went quiet and stayed quiet."
Void's visor flashed as coordinates dropped into his comms channel.
[COORDINATES RECEIVED]
[DESTINATION: IO]
Void sat forward again, hand resting on the edge of the console. "That's all I needed."
Ikorra's voice sharpened. "Now listen to me. Asher is not going to be happy you showed up. He is not stable in the way most Guardians are stable."
Void's lips curved. "None of us are."
"Void."
"I'm not telling you not to go," Ikorra said. "I'm telling you to go carefully. And if Asher Mir isn't willing, then don't push it. The City relies on his Vex knowledge a lot more than you'd think."
Void looked out at the stars. "I hear you," he said.
Ikorra didn't sound satisfied, but she didn't argue either. "Good."
The call cut.
Obsidian's eye brightened as the jumpship's systems adjusted.
"Route set," Obsidian said. "Io in line. Jump ready."
Void nodded once. "Do it."
The stars pulled inward. The ship's hull groaned softly as space folded, and it disappeared.
—
[House of Winter Court]
The Fallen stronghold reeked of ether and scorched metal. It was packed too tight, too loud, too tense. Dregs scurried along the edges of the chamber with their heads down, hauling crates and patched rifles like ants moving food through a nest that had been rattled.
Above them, banners of House Winter hung in tattered strips. Not proud. Torn. Stained. Still there, but only because no one had the time to take them down.
Draksis, Winter's Kell sat at the centre of it all, perched on a throne built from plated scrap and salvaged human steel. His lower arms were wrapped in thick bands of wire and armour straps. His upper hands were bare, claws stained dark where oil and blood had mixed.
A holo-table in front of him projected casualty numbers. Squad counts. Supply reserves. Ether stores.
Everything was in ruin.
A Captain stepped forward first, head lowered but not too low.
"Great Kell," the Captain rasped, "our forces are compromised."
The Kell's four eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"The Vex assault was heavier than expected," the Captain said. "They pressed into our ranks even as we withdrew. It was… relentless."
Another Captain moved beside him, voice sharper. "And the Strange Machine Spawn in the deadlock. The one with lightning."
A ripple ran through the chamber. Even Dregs paused to listen.
"He tore through both sides,"
Draksis inhaled slowly, ether lines along his neck flaring faintly. He stared at the projections until the numbers blurred into one dull truth.
Loss.
He spoke without raising his voice, but it carried anyway. "We rebuild."
The Captains exchanged glances. One of them started to speak again, but the Kell lifted a hand.
"I said we rebuild," he repeated. "No raids. No strikes. No glory runs to feed ego. We lay low until our numbers return."
A murmur spread. Frustration. Hunger. The House of Winter wasn't built to hide. They were built to take.
The Kell's patience snapped.
He slammed his upper hand down through a datapad resting on the edge of the holo-table. The device cracked with a sharp pop. Sparks jumped. The projection flickered, stuttered, then stabilised.
The sound silenced the room.
Winter's Kell leaned forward, claws digging into the metal edge. "Do any of you doubt me?"
No one answered.
Then a new figure stepped out from the line of Captains. Taller. Leaner. Armour darker, etched with marks that looked like they'd been burned in rather than painted.
Grayliks, Winter Baron.
He bowed, slow and controlled, then lifted his head. "Great Kell," he said. "We did not return empty-handed."
The Kell's gaze shifted to him, sharp with interest despite himself. "Speak."
Grayliks snapped his wrist, and a small projection flickered into the air. Not a battle map. Not a supply chart. Something stranger. A cryptogram module. Golden Age in design, but modified with Fallen hands. A layered tool meant to break locks that weren't meant to be broken.
"We secured this from the old archives beneath Ishtar," Grayliks said. "In the chaos. While the Vex were occupied."
The Kell's posture eased by a fraction. Ether lines dimmed. He stared at the projection like it was food.
"This," he said slowly, "is useful."
"It is," Grayliks agreed. "It will open doors. It will turn human secrets into Winter secrets."
The Kell nodded once. He almost looked pleased.
Almost.
Then Grayliks continued, voice dropping a touch. "But I must warn you. While we extracted the technology, I watched the Vex."
The Kell's eyes narrowed again. "You already said they were occupied."
"They were," Grayliks replied. "But not with us. Not with the Guardian. Not even with the stolen archive."
The room felt colder. The Dregs stopped moving again.
"They did not care that we took from them," Grayliks said. "They were moving too hastily. Too urgently. They were gathering. Building. Shifting units through the network like something had sounded an alarm."
Draksis let out a low scoff. "The Vex always move. That is what they do."
Grayliks didn't back down. "Not like this. This was not routine. It felt like… preparation."
Draksis leaned back in his throne and spread his hands. "Preparation for what?"
Grayliks hesitated, and that hesitation said enough. He didn't know. He only knew it was wrong.
Draksis's expression hardened. "You're spooked."
"I am cautious," Grayliks corrected.
But Grayliks immediately got waved off with a rough flick of Draksis's wrist. "Then be cautious quietly. We have losses. We have rebuilding to do. We do not waste thought on Vex."
Grayliks's jaw tightened. He bowed again, slower this time. "As you command."
He stepped back from the court. As he turned to leave, the Kell had already returned to the casualty projection, eyes burning with the sort of anger that only came from being forced to wait.
Grayliks walked out of the chamber, the air outside cooler, quieter, less crowded. A line of Captains waited in the corridor. They straightened when they saw him.
Grayliks didn't waste time.
"Watch the Vex," he told them. "I don't care what the Kell thinks. If they move like that again, I want to know first."
One Captain's mandibles twitched. "You think they're planning something."
Grayliks stared down the hall, as if he could see through walls and time if he tried hard enough. "I think they already started."
The Captains nodded, uneasy but obedient.
-
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