Air gusts through the interrogation room. As the stars move the trajectories of the comets that pass them by, so too do the opinions of the powerful pull others in their wake. Misery watches the faces of the interview panel change. Relief that the General is giving them permission to stop fighting their skepticism. To give in to the sweetness of faith.

Over the General’s shoulder, brilliant and gleaming like the future, is the creature known as Ruin, strutting in the form she has always known, triumph in hir golden face, a fierce joy in hir inhuman eyes. Zie has been there all this while, watching as she takes her first stumbling steps toward her destiny. Now zie’s telling her she knows what must be done.

And she does. “Divinity must be proven, not just taken at its word. The Heretics that have plagued this station for so long—let me take care of them. The next time they come, they will see. They will see, and you will know.”

Lady Lee Alodia Lightning looks for her the moment she wakes. Misery follows the system’s supportive red arrow through the byways of Angelsteeth Base. Beside her Ruin floats, triumphant and silent. Since she’s returned with the archangel mech, the creature has appeared more spectral in her vision, yet feels more present in her life, like a pressure in her soul that never leaves.

The arrow leads Misery through the tangle of the med and research lobe. Deep in some duodenal twist is the highly secured unit in which Alodia Lightning has been recuperating, blastproof doors guarded by a stern pair of soldiers. The one on the left makes the sign of the Forge before opening the door. A shiver ripples through her; this is the first time she’s been saluted this way. An honor reserved for generals and emperors and archbishops. What did General Tsung tell them? What had they entered into the system, and what floats invisibly over her head now?

Inside: a room so white she can’t tell its true size or shape. It appears curved, a glittering bank of controls sat in its far vicinity. In the middle, a bed, or in other circumstances an examination pallet. Perhaps even an autopsy table. On it, Alodia Lightning sits upright, draped in a fine slip, hair loose and shimmering over her back. She’s halfway through a conversation with Dr. Sower, who turns as Misery comes in. Alodia Lightning follows suit and her face brightens like a switch has been thrown.

Dr. Sower tucks her hands into the pockets of her coat. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.” Full of hidden meaning. When she nods to Misery, it’s almost a wink. “Call me when you’re done. I have more tests to run.” And then she’s out of the door the way Misery came.