And so the General did. They kept watch over Angelsteeth Base, the Empire’s premier military research facility, enduring month after month of Heretic attacks without complaint. Duty came first, and the General wished to appear the very model of a deferential soldier. They were much beloved by the lower ranks, who fiercely loved the fearless leader who kept them safe against the very real and present danger Angelsteeth faced. Almost nowhere else in the Empire were the Faithful subject to such repeated and concerted attack as they were on Angelsteeth. How isolating, to feel like you’re alone in the universe. You understand that feeling, don’t you? Of course you do.

And yet pressure can be fortifying. The stronger it is applied, the more indestructible the result. Over time the glue that bonded the banquet of Angelsteeth solidified into resin, harder to get into—or get out of.

It was this bond that allowed the General to carry out their plan. For sedition, while not in their nature, had been drawn from the chambers of their heart by the appearance of Misery Nomaki, whose presence in their life they considered a sign from the Larex Forge. They were being called to a higher purpose than serving a Throne that had fallen away from the teachings of the Church. For too long the General Tsung had been forced to hold the secrets of the Throne. Now they had secrets of their own. They put the banquet of Angelsteeth to an oath of silence—the Throne would not learn what had transpired here. It would not learn of the miracles that had been wrought by the new Messiah Misery Nomaki. And it would certainly not learn that the instructions to keep the new Messiah under strictest imprisonment were being defied. That the General, seeing them as the ultimate weapon in a holy war, would train them to become one.

CHAPTER 10

So. Sedition. Like everyone else in the Empire, Misery grew up on tales of heroic defiance, from Ruby Sarna against ALISS, to Saint Ono against the Great Council swayed by Heretic propaganda. Wave dramas and serial romances teemed with epics of righteous disobedience, paragons of morality choosing the right thing over the lawful thing. In the soft gel of baby Misery’s brains these stories took root and shaped the person she would become. What’s happening now, however, is more than a few steps up from being a small-time criminal in a backwater town. Defying Imperial decree and secretly training to be a seraph pilot? It’s a whole cliff up. It’s a different plane of existence altogether.

“You seem excited by the prospect,” Ruin says.

Excited? Not the right word. Misery’s holding tight to her senses, knowing her survival hangs by a microthread that will break if she breathes wrong. Any excitement she feels is fed by the twin canisters of fear and her desire to live. There is no joy in this. Only bad vibes.