In the silence that follows, Pyrex Imogen stands in quiet contemplation. “For years, the only evidence we’ve had of archangel mechs were the murals at the Kalanchov Pass and the writings of the Eight Messiahs. We searched every planet, every asteroid where stonetraces were found, in hope that we might uncover one of these legendary artifacts. Something that could change our fortunes. Now one has come to us.” Their expression is beatific. “Not in my lifetime, or in the lifetimes of anyone living, have we been thus blessed. You are right, Misery. We can do no more than await guidance from the Larex Forge.”

Misery gazes at the crown of the archangel mech and imagines it ablaze with light. Her bones ache for that sense of unity, one with the mech and one with the universe. The gestures of the Larex Forge are not subtle; Zie makes it known what Zie wants. That’s what Misery needs from a sign: the absolute fucking certainty that she’s doing what is right. None of this uncertainty. None of this insinuation and machination. She needs a sign that flares across the cosmos like a supernova.

Ruin perches on the glorious head of the archangel mech. “Do not wait for the sign to come to you,” zie says. “The will of the Forge is not a child that comes when called. It is treasure that rewards the dedicated. Seek it, and you will find what you need.”

The question of Diamond’s connection to the siege stays lodged in Misery’s chest all day, a smoldering lump pumping out acidic fumes. Misery bears that discomfort in silence, having learned patience. While she shows off the archangel’s moves to Pyrex Imogen, the Church contingent and the General’s office prepare their briefings on Monkglass and the Throne’s movements respectively. In the afternoon, the General recaps their battles against the Heretics for the Archbishop, a light show with sound, letting them witness the glory of the Demiurge’s will in full technicolor.

She bides her time. She waits with her question throughout dinner, the extra-fancy shit now that the Archbishop is here. Tamps it down in the after, when Ono Red-2 chills in the common room of their quarters, breaking into the cremoline with lips and limbs getting looser and looser. Holds it in until she and Lighting are in the sanctuary of her quarters, balanced on the edge of the bed, breaths mingling. Still clothed, but on the precipice of shedding that encumbrance.

“What was the thing about Diamond?”

Lightning’s features, muddied by the low light, grow heavy and somber as she turns away from Misery. The mood in the room shifts. Misery lets the chill seep through her body and becalm her soul. She will not allow the truth to escape her this time.