He came upon a broad hall decked with unruly astromantic symbols. Since biotransference, he had possessed no psychic presence, his soul severed by the means with which his consciousness had been biotransferred into the construct of living metal that had sustained him over the aeons. He mourned its loss, though he could not recall what it felt like to have a soul. It was the principle of the theft that had driven him insane.

So it was with purely cold intellect that he surveyed the inscriptions on the domed chamber, following their symbols and spirals towards a faceted crystal lens at the summit of the ceiling. His senses registered a lack of heat in comparison to the rest of the citadel. Light-detecting arrays picked up stray sparks of high-wavelength emissions. Through the anger he reasoned that perhaps a being with a soul might feel something about the environment.

When he had first woken, Zozar had spent a considerable amount of time abducting sentients to analyse their psychic make-up. He had questioned them at length about their feelings, delving beyond systemic biochemical responses to expose the very depths of true emotion. It had been the approach of an engineer, to break apart the problem to understand it, in the hopes that it would contain the solution for its own rebuilding.

He had come to one madness-inducing conclusion.

There was no cure for the biotransference. Whatever plans and dreams the likes of Szarekh thought up, Zozar knew that they could no more harness their lost souls than they could grip the vacuum itself.

There was nothing left to grasp.

His distraction ceased, drawing his attention to the hall’s two ­occupants. Humans. Average height, breadth and mass. They were clad in robes from head to foot, scalps hidden beneath cowls. A flash of memory brought back a vision of his wedding day, the arbitrator clad in similar garb, though adorned with more care than the dishevelled examples before him.

The two of them clasped each other, heads turning back and forth as though scanning the room. Magnification exposed the lack of bio­electrical data flowing from their eye sockets.

They were blind.

Zozar also registered soundwaves emanating from the two humans. He activated a translator protocol, curious to see what the humans were saying in their last moments. Perhaps their death-confessions would shed some secret on the nature of souls.

‘The death-in-metal has arrived. A mind-infection malaise-soul disperses fully among the populace. There will be no more. This is ending. Only the power-astromancy-soul has kept us alive in this justice-building-protective-enclave-sanctuary. No more. It is ending. There is no saviour. A warning. Protect others. A warning. Protect others. Death-in-metal walks among our people. Our praises herald the strength of the lord-of-heavens-ruler-guide-protector-eagle-of-vengeance.’

Zozar comprehended that this was not just a prayer to their divinity – the Emperor-Being – but also a constructed message. The entire chamber was an astromantic amplifier. A beacon of sorts, perhaps, or a communications device.