His father’s voice echoed around his skull. Skulls on the floor. Skeletons. Bangles on exposed wristbones, rib cages swathed in frozen rags.

Dis felt the cold. He felt the warmth of Talor’s sun. He felt his father’s wrath, his father’s blood, gushing from the wound across his throat, the wound Dis had slashed. He heard the elders, driving him from the nest, calling him a witch over and over, the cries he’d tried to drown in a hundred reed-dens on a hundred planets. That was the past, but it was also now. He was on Talor and he was in the cavern, held up by Ro and Kufa.

Fear squirmed in his belly, and he didn’t know why. A Talortai was supposed to be brave, but he wasn’t a Talortai … not anymore. He was Nihil. The Nihil feared no one. The Nihil were feared.

“I can’t go on,” he wheezed, wanting to be sick, wanting to sink to the floor.

“You must,” Kufa urged. “You must see. All will be clear. Look.”

He did as he was told. They had led him into a smaller chamber, its walls blackened from centuries of candle soot. Four figures stood in front of them, their backs to the entrance, silent and immobile. Each was covered in a thick rime, long curving blades in their hands.

No, that wasn’t right. The blades were their hands. They were droids, deactivated long ago, their joints frozen solid, heads bowed in respect, like supplicants.

“Look closer,” Ro urged.

Dis took a step forward, breaking free of his companions’ grip. There was something in front of the droids, a shadow in the wall.

He slipped, sliding on a patch of black ice, crying out in alarm as he tried to steady himself. The droids’ heads snapped up, all four of them at once, frost falling like snow from their servos. They turned in unison, even speaking as one.

“You defile the Shrine.”

Ro stepped up beside Dis, taking his arm again, supporting him.

“No. We come here to pay our respects.”

Get out.

He flinched, hearing his father’s voice once more, but this time there was no condemnation, only fear.

“You are not welcome,” the droids replied. “You will die.”

“Short and to the point,” Ro commented as the droids stepped forward, blades raised. The Eye flexed his arm, ignited his lightsaber as if he’d been born to wield it. “I appreciate that. Are you ready?”

The last question was directed at Dis.

“I thought you … you came here to worship?” he croaked.

“The Leveler isn’t a god.”

“Then what is it?”

“Balance,” Kufa replied, the blaster rifle in her hands.

“You said your ancestors brought it here …”

The droids took another step. His father pleaded with him to leave, blood spilling from the gash in his throat.

“Shouldn’t they know who you are?” Dis asked.

“They’re about to find out.”