“What we saw today will change this war for good,” says the Duke. “This is a good thing. A blessed thing. We should be glad.”

Lightning tightens her grip on Misery’s hand. The General says, “We are grateful.” Half to themself, half to those listening.

Across the span of the room, visible only to Misery, the angel Ruin sits cross-legged in the air, a recalcitrant swirl of mirth. “No more direct guidance will come from the Larex Forge,” zie says. “You were called, and now you are in the place Zie needs you to be. Left to do as your heart directs you. It does not worry you, does it, Misery Nomaki? Do you fear that your heart will guide you wrong?”

Still the angel tests her. Zie is wrong. There is no fear in her heart. Has she not already proven her worth and her power? The Larex Forge chose correctly. This is what must be.

CHAPTER 24

Angelsteeth parties hard. Under the shell of austerity and military discipline its guts have always been swollen with distraction and vice, as such things tend to be. From inside closets and under metal plating emerge the paraphernalia of illicit joy, free to exist in the light at last. Boxes of juice and the pink bottles of tripsalves. Dizziness riots through the corridors and bright places of the station, equal to the euphoria in the shadows and behind closed doors. The enforcers don’t look the other way. They too down their glasses, leaving them sparkling and empty. The enemy is vanquished. The prophecy has come true. For once, there is nothing to hide from the sight of the Larex Forge.

Ono Red-2 heads to the big party, organized for those whose celebrations must end in a haze of forgetting and chemical recrimination. The location: Blacklights, the upscale bar that Misery has never gotten the chance to visit. Partygoers spill out into the corridor in a loud, messy whorl. Misery knows too well this flavor of abandon: pupils blown on tripsalves, smiles sloppy with cremoline. Hands everywhere and greedy. Their serving is recognized at the door and let in, despite the crowd.