Misery hefts the stone disc in her palm. She can’t help but notice that it’s the same size and shape as Mother’s amulet. Violet plays under its surface as she rolls it back and forth. Curious. The token taps very lightly against the amulet hidden under her fatigues as she puts it around her neck.

“Let’s get started,” says General Tsung.

Ono Red-2 splits to their assigned seraphs: Alodia Lightning and Misery to the right, Ghost and Spider to the left, Diamond and Tank to the control center with the rest of them. The princess walks slowly as if through tar, and Misery has no problems keeping up. She observes: jaw clenched, fists held awkwardly, tension running in a column from neck to hip. Misery draws closer, and before Alodia Lightning can step away she says: “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. I’m sure of it.”

Her tension ratchets up. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity I’m offering. You seem really upset.”

She turns on Misery so fast they almost collide. “Listen. I’m not like the others. So don’t try your chosen-one routine on me. I know you’re full of shit. Even if the others believe you.”

“I say this as a friend—”

“You’re a liar. Everything about you is a lie. Why should I trust you?”

True, but—“I didn’t ask for this. It was the prophet of Calister—”

Alodia Lightning reacts as if struck. Grabs Misery by the collar, teeth bared, rage pouring off her. Misery’s hands are up, shielding her face; it’s instinct. Her heels barely touch the floor. The princess sucks air through her teeth as her nostrils flare. It’s fifty-fifty if this will devolve into a fight or not.

Then the tension breaks and she drops Misery. Her expression goes shuttered as she stalks away to her assigned seraph at the far end of the Butchery. Not a word said. Misery tries to control her breathing as the princess walks away, but she blows the air out of her mouth so hard her cheeks pouch. She did not see that outburst of violence coming, and its ferocity has knocked her heart out of place. Her fingers buzz with adrenaline and she closes them around the pilot’s token, which feels too much like Mother’s amulet.

“Focus,” Ruin says. “What happens now will determine the trajectory of your life. It will determine the trajectory of the Faithful.”

Ruin is, regrettably, right. Misery has bigger stones to haul than the princess’s personal problems. But she can deal with that later. The greatest obstacle is ahead.