The serving captains have just enough time to warn their fighters before the lines sever. “Bring it up,” the General says, and the techs in the room shift into new, anxious patterns. Seeing to their screens. Getting ready for the big shift. Tending to the switches and dials.

Angelsteeth Base rumbles. Deep in its viscera something is waking, and Misery, who has never lived in space except these past few weeks, shivers in her soul. But her flesh also trembles, her skin crawling with awe and unease. What great terror and wonders shall unfold before her? Holy obsidian, colossal and unforgiving, calls to her from a great distance.

Around the mass of Angelsteeth a blessing glows. From turret to turret and lobe to lobe, holy light establishes itself: yellow, inutterable, and impenetrable. Misery cannot imagine what an aegis of that size looks like from the outside, or what it cost to build, but she can feel it for sure. The blood in the chambers of her heart can feel it. The song of the warning siren changes, and she wonders how much the rest of the station understands what is happening. The gears of the universe are turning on the decisions made in this room, and only a handful of people are here to witness it.

“Cannons,” says General Tsung, and soldiers in a hundred cubbies across Angelsteeth are called to duty, activating the base’s last-ditch defenses. Misery sneaks a glance at the princess and finds her hyperfocused on the unfolding action. If there’s a shred of nervousness in her, it’s undetectable. The Lady Alodia Lightning is energized by whatever’s about to happen, and Misery got this sense from her back when they first fought. She’s got the face of someone alive as never before.

“Pay attention,” Ruin says, and that’s all the warning Misery gets.

Next to Angelsteeth, the skin of the universe rips. Nullvoid pours from the gaping wound and Misery feels it in her chest, a surge of sudden chaos released into the cosmos. Carried upon that invisible, indescribable, ineffable ether is a ship. A Heretic ship. A jagged arrowhead of a thing, half corkscrew and all shifting void, absorbing and reflecting starlight in ways that defy the known laws of physics.

“What the fuck is that,” Misery says, as breath hisses from every person in the command center. But she doesn’t need any insight—divine or otherwise—to know this is bad news. Fear and panic have thickened the air so much it’s hard to breathe.

The princess says, “That’s a Virtue-class hornet. Isn’t it?”

“Weapons hot,” Captain Sunyata Diamond says, her face tight with stress. She’s glad her instincts were right but wishes they weren’t.

The Heretic ship skims the station. Teeth show in its glossy skin as it rakes Angelsteeth with cutting light. The bolts skim across the yellow and dissipate. Thank the Forge that’s up.