‘She is clever. Not just learned, but sharp in a way that bests even the finest of blades. She is powerful, and strong. Driven, just as I am.’ She smiles. ‘But she is patient, where I am not. Kind, where I might be cruel.’

She lets her hand fall away.

‘She is my everything,’ she says. ‘I love her, with all of my heart.’

Ravara’s voice is different, saying those last words. Softer, and more melodic. It is almost like hearing her speak for the first time. Like seeing the woman she is, and not what her life has made of her.

‘I am sorry,’ I tell her.

She turns to look at me. ‘It was my failure that made her this way,’ she says. ‘I was searching for the same thing then as I am now. A means to bring light back into the Imperium. To wrest back everything the Rift has taken from us. I thought that I had found the means to do it on a world named Hellebore, but I was wrong.’

‘What happened?’

Ravara glances at Sofika. ‘The enemy got there before we did,’ she says. ‘An arch-traitor, of the old Legions. A sorcerer, sworn to darkness.’

I ache at her words, disgust rising up from the heart of me. My hands reflexively meet to make the sign of the aquila.

‘A servant of Chaos,’ I say. ‘That creature was the one who hurt her.’

Ravara exhales slowly. ‘He was the one to hurt her, but only because I didn’t see it coming.’

She looks back at me, her amber eyes circled with shadows.

‘I failed, and Sofika paid the price. Afterwards, I made her a vow that she would live to see our work complete. That I would make everything right. And that is what I intend to do.’

‘For her,’ I say.

‘For everyone,’ Ravara replies. ‘But yes. For her, too. I might lie and kill. I might keep secrets, but when I make a vow I do not break it. I swear to you now, you will find what you seek on Dimmamar. We all will.’

She extends her hand to me.

‘Trust me,’ she says.

I hesitate, knowing that this is one of the choices Ravara mentioned. One of the steps on the journey. I am on the edge of making the choice when a voice cuts in. One that is soft, and whispered and almost lyrical.

‘She means it,’ says the woman in the machine. ‘You can trust her. Ahri keeps her promises.’

Ravara’s cheeks colour, and her eyes gloss with tears. She looks to Sofika in disbelief.

‘Sofi,’ she says. ‘You should be sleeping.’

Sofika smiles, and in it I can see the way she must have been before. ‘How could I when it is so bright,’ she says, and then she looks at me. ‘When she is so bright.’

‘Bright,’ I say. ‘You mean the mark.’