The Arbiter had no choice but to grant my return to Voidhold Zero. Choosing Commander Sentix as my character witness was a move none of them had anticipated. I could tell he didn't like this direction, nor indeed did any of the council or the voidhold crew, but they seemed to see no other way out of this.

  I bit back a laugh imagining Mother's reaction to such defiance. She would have pinched my face until it bruised, then ordered me to clean up whatever mess Rashala had made that day.

  And so the council paused their inquiry, saying that they would resume once our little expedition had returned from speaking to my witness. I would be coming back, they emphasized, because I still had to face their judgement for my actions. I said I understood, but deep down I knew that things would soon be very different.

  They escorted me to the medical room by the waygate. The restraining bracelets remained on my wrists, though mercifully inactive. When the door locked behind me, I went straight to the viewport and ripped away every scrap of black tape that obscured the view. Mosogon's atmosphere unfurled before me—violet cyclones spiraling through electric-charged gas clouds, lightning flashing between purple layers. I lost myself in that chaotic display until Cedar piped up.

  "No," I said. "I am thinking."

  My reflection smiled back at me in the viewport glass, the expression still strange on my unveiled face. "Is that an official setting?"

  "I've made a completely rational choice."

  I pressed my palm against the cold viewport. "Speaking of councils, are you still plugged into navigation?"

  The viewport was steady under my touch. "No."

  "Maybe they like not dying."

  "Something to negotiate later," I said.

  Cedar fell silent. Outside, gas currents streaked past the viewport with increasing speed.

  "Are we climbing?" I asked eventually.

  "Do you communicate with other navigators?"

  "How long until we reach Zero?"

  The silence lingered longer this time. When Cedar spoke again, its voice was unusually subdued.

  "I know."

  "I survived twenty-one years without your wit and wisdom. I'll manage."

  I settled onto the medical couch nearest the viewport, my eyes drawn to a distant electric storm. Soon I would be flying through that magnificent chaos once again.

  The thought made my heart leap.

  When the door hissed open, I didn't turn. Chio's footsteps approached, soft and deliberate, but I kept my gaze fixed on Mosogon's swirling atmosphere, gazing at the massive vortices twisting through layers of indigo gas.

  "What are you looking at?" she asked softly.

  "Cloud structures," I replied, watching crystalline formations bloom where conflicting currents collided. "Tell me, why do you keep your viewports covered?"

  She placed something on the chair beside me, then settled on the couch. Her weight shifted the cushion. "For the children, of course."

  That caught me off guard. I turned to face her. "You don't want them looking?"

  "No!" Horror flashed across her features. "They must never see the void directly."

  "Why not?"

  She stared at me with disbelief, as though I'd asked why people shouldn't drink coolant. Her hair was wrapped in a pale red fabric, and the color deepened the darkness of her eyes.

  "Void rapture," she said finally.

  "What is that?"

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "You don't know?" Her eyebrows arched. "On Zero, they don't warn you?"

  I shook my head.

  "Children who stare too long into the void become changed. Their minds get snared by its patterns." Her fingers mimicked a spiral motion. "They fall into a trance state, some for hours, others for days. The worst cases never fully return."

  "Oh," I said. "We keep our viewports uncovered."

  Her mouth fell open. "They let you look as a child?

  I thought of all the hours I'd spent staring through Zero's viewports, watching Mosogon's storms while waiting for instructions. It had been my only escape, my private world.

  "Yes. All the time."

  "That..." She shook her head in wonder. "That explains a lot. You're lucky to still have an intact mind." A smile broke across her face and she punched my shoulder lightly. "At least, we assume it's intact."

  "Haha," I said, recognizing the joke.

  "Well, if you've finished your rapturing for today, take a look at this." She lifted the package from the chair and placed it on the couch between us. "Open it."

  Inside the thin plastic wrapper lay folded fabric, dark and glossy. I lifted it out, letting it unfold in my hands.

  "What is this?" I asked, running my fingers over the material.

  "A fight suit."

  It was sleek and flexible, crafted from a material that shimmered between deep blue and black. Unlike Larkin's bulky uniform, this one was streamlined and fitted, with reinforced panels along the spine. A series of slim pockets ran down each leg, and embedded sensors glinted from the collar and wrists. At the center of the chest was an embroidered symbol: a stylized voidhold silhouette against a deep purple twist.

  I began refolding it with careful hands. "I cannot wear this. I am not a pilot."

  "Not in title, no." Chio's eyes held something unfamiliar to me—respect. "But you know how to ride currents better than most." Her smile turned knowing. "And you aren't afraid to stare into the void." She pushed the suit back toward me. "Try it. See if it fits."

  I held the garment against my chest, feeling its weight. It was lighter than it looked, yet somehow substantial—as though woven from atmosphere. I nodded slowly, mind drifting to a scene not yet realized: stepping through Zero's waygate wrapped in this void dancer's skin, trailing storm-current grace.

  Mother would freeze, a scolding comment dying in her throat.

  Rashala would stare with that particular mixture of envy and fury she reserved for things she couldn't possess.

  And dear, distant Father might actually look up from his toys, his clouded eyes clearing just enough to see me, truly see me, standing tall in my storm-walker's glory.

  Then reality raised its hand, asking me to recall one vital detail.

  Ah yes.

  I met Chio's gaze directly. "Thank you. I am grateful for your kind gift, but there is one more thing I need."

  ?

  The waygate of Voidhold Two buzzed with pre-departure tension. I stood alone near the entrance, my left restrainer bracelet keeping me beside the wall. As I watched technicians prepare the shuttle, the fingers of my free hand traced the edges of my new flight suit.

  I was determined to savor these final moments of Two's chaotic energy, so different from Zero's sterile silence.

  Eventually, the Arbiter entered with an unhurried stride. "The team is assembling now," he said, his voice low. "The Pathfinder will be joining you. She represents the council and has final authority on all decisions. She will also escort you back with her findings when this unusual inquiry is complete. You may call her Aini."

  "I understand," I said.

  "Fron insisted on joining as chronicler." The Arbiter's mouth quirked up at one corner. "I suspect decades of recording the same voidhold have left him hungry for new material. Zero presents quite the opportunity."

  I nodded, picturing Fron's eager note-taking about my fractured family life.

  "Larkin will pilot you there. Zero has acknowledged our communications, though barely. We believe that the functionary that has taken nominal charge will recognize him, which should smooth your arrival." He paused, studying my face. "And Lidaros will handle security."

  My head snapped up at that name, body tensing involuntarily. The Arbiter raised one hand in a placating gesture.

  "I understand there's been conflict between you. However, he has given his word to maintain professional conduct." His eyes held mine. "He's experienced with unusual situations."

  Whose security is he really protecting? I wondered.

  "You must understand," the Arbiter continued, his voice gentler, "your voidhold carries certain expectations. Stories of its isolation, its functionaries, and its history have spread over generations. We cannot simply send a team there without a way of ensuring its safety."

  "I understand," I echoed, the words hollow while dread pooled in my stomach.

  "Ah," The Arbiter's gaze shifted past me. "Here they come."

  The expedition team approached through the gleaming waygate doors. Larkin led the group, his weathered flight suit hanging loose around his frame, eyes fixed on some distant point beyond my shoulder. Behind him strode Pathfinder Aini, compact and confident with a utility pack slung across her back, her half of an arm wearing a prosthetic that looked like a functionary's limb. Fron followed with the eager expression of someone about to witness history firsthand, datapad already clutched in his trembling hands. And at the rear, Lidaros—tactical vest strapped over his chest, pulse weapon holstered at his hip, face a mask of cold professionalism that couldn't quite hide the glint of anticipation in his eyes.

  "Ready to go?" Larkin asked, his forced smile stretching his face into something unnatural.

  "Yes," the Arbiter replied. He pulled a small controller device from his pocket, showed it to me, then squeezed it. The bracelet was released from the wall with a soft click. Then he passed the control device to Aini.

  "There's one more thing," I said as they turned toward the shuttle.

  The Arbiter paused. "Yes?"

  "If I am returning to Zero, I must adhere to my protocol."

  From a pocket in my flight suit, I withdrew the veil Chio had given me. The deep crimson fabric shimmered under the waygate lights, its weave finer than my old bio-sealed veil but still opaque enough to conceal my features. It was soft, almost silken, with a subtle reinforced wire that would hold it in place without fusing it to my skin. Tiny metallic threads woven through the material caught the light as it unfolded between my hands, a web of conductive filaments that spoke of Two's human artistry.

  As I secured it over my face, the fabric settled against my skin like a cool breath, lighter than shadow yet substantial enough to feel like armor. As I inhaled through its fine mesh, the air took on a familiar flavour—the breath I had known for most of my life.

  Beneath the veil, I smiled, invisible to them all. "Let us depart."

  ?

  The shuttle's interior hummed with the symphony of atmospheric processors cycling, gravity stabilizers maintaining equilibrium, navigational systems tracking void currents. Cramped by design, us four passengers sat in uncomfortable proximity, forced into a circle of tense silence.

  I claimed the seat furthest from Lidaros, pressing myself against the curved hull. I watched the others settle into their roles: Larkin at the helm, his shoulders rigid as he communicated with navigation systems; Pathfinder Aini beside him, studying readouts; Fron tucked away with his datapad, fingers flying across its surface; and Lidaros, weapon still holstered but hand never straying far from it, eyes constantly returning to me.

  "Entering primary void stream," Larkin announced. "Estimated arrival at Zero in twenty minutes."

  Aini nodded, tapping something into her console. "Stream stability at ninety-three percent."

  .

  "Goodbye, Cedar." I smiled, keeping my eyes carefully blank.

  And then we were gone, outside of Voidhold Two. The shuttle banked immediately, riding a current that sent a shudder through the frame. Lidaros gripped his harness, knuckles whitening.

  "Just a cross-stream," Larkin muttered, making adjustments. "Normal turbulence."

  It was Minnow, who had spoken to me on my first flight in Larkin's shuttle.

  "I am Shade of Voidhold Zero," I whispered. "I cannot speak for the others."

  "No, that will not be necessary."

  As I spoke with Minnow, I watched Lidaros. His gaze was fixed on the viewport, where the violet gas clouds parted before us, revealing glimpses of a dark voidhold ahead. His expression held fascination warring with disgust, hunger with fear.

  "The voidhold of ghosts," He said, his voice unnervingly soft. "Where machines raise human children and the only law comes from functionary protocols." His eyes locked with mine. "I wonder what fresh horrors we'll discover there."

  The shuttle slowed as the waygate of Voidhold Zero opened before us like a maw.

  Yes, I thought. The fresh horrors of my home, and my frozen commander.