“The still carry their names within, the Ember walks with theirs revealed.”

  SolDiri fragment.

  The human had given zher the silent name Ember. Formally and perfectly aligned with Vol clade traditions.

  How had it known about the fires?

  Back then, zhe’d inserted from the clade’s orbital in a drop-suit. Set-up and watched the main garrison. Then, zhe lit up the command area and called in God’s Finger. A solar lance to take out the command post.

  Cold.

  Silent.

  Efficient.

  No thunder.

  The silent beginning of a war.

  But when the depleted uranium rod struck home, the planet screamed.

  Deep below, water-filled caves flashed to steam and lit seams of unmined zirconium like a candle’s wick.

  Old mineshafts collapsed.

  Caverns ruptured, flooded and pressures built.

  Exotic metals combined with superheated steam accelerating a reaction already out of control.

  The mixture reached a critical state…

  …and the world convulsed.

  Magma spread out across a quarter of the planet. Liquid plasma vomited high into the stratosphere tearing open the sky.

  And the Void screamed as the planet bled star-fire, setting a thousand burning pyres.

  Vol’Shaar didn’t look away.

  A solitary soul, shattered, zhe walked into it.

  Welcoming a silent death for the destruction zhe’d wrought. She spoke the litany of Veltrin to the cadence of each step.

  But the remaining hives of the planet surrendered immediately, without fanfare or spectacle.

  And when, two days later, zhe quietly walked out alone, smoke clung to her like a second skin. Her armour had turned into an ochre shell of fused glass and ash.

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  The clades were already calling her Ember, after the mythical Fire Walker. Though she bore no silent name.

  They were calling her Ember…

  Not in jest, not in reverence. In awe, as a warning to others.

  And now… zhe felt conflicted.

  They had tasked zher to purge the heat-lovers from the world so it could remain still, untouched.

  But zhe had learnt to revere the old ways, where purpose required the Drexari to establish balance above all else. Matter and void in balance. Chaos and stillness in balance. Balance.

  And now this… this human…was calling into question all zhe had thought to be true.

  What the hive lord had asked of zher was not balance.

  Did it matter that it was a human bringing enlightenment zher way?

  And so there they sat, facing each other. Both silent, both still. Waiting as if outside time.

  Then Vol’Shaar spoke. Not in haste or in anger but in ceremony.

  Acknowledging what she saw before her.

  What critical thinking had made clear.

  “The Silent Flame that does not burn,

  Commands the myths, for all to learn.”

  The words carried weight and landed heavily on Feebee’s shoulders. They held the cadence of dance.

  The air around them folded, misting with gentle, wispy movement that carried motes along paths blurred and indistinct.

  Feebee’s vision lost focus, its edges closing in before exploding outwards exposing a landscape burning, full of fire. And out of the centre walked Vol’Shaar.

  Zhe had become more than fire; now forged and refined.

  Then, without thought, Feebee reached into the vision; words flowed into her mind which she spoke. Her voice distant, resonating with ancient tone.

  “From a thousand fires, zhe did not fall,

  Ember walks, beyond them all.”

  Feebee rose, picked up Hissy, then paused, knife in hand.

  Vol’Shaar raised zher hands baring zher soft underbelly in submission.

  They faced each other, a silent moment.

  Then without thinking, Feebee’s blade flicked out. The tape binding Vol’Shaar’s wrists fell away. It was swift, instinctive, almost ritualistic.

  The air shifted and the motes, once random and chaotic on Hissy, rose into the air and traced a path to the stone wall near the gap. Then, one by one, they disappeared into the rock, leaving currents of colour expanding on its surface, each passage a ripple of shimmering light.

  Feebee and Vol’Shaar crossed together with silent understanding and stepped through the rocky wall...

  …into a cave carved with old truths.

  And there, surrounded by motes, as if in attendance, was a standing stone. Its tall bone-white form, carved with glyphs, bearing witness to past and future events.

  Vol’Shaar fell to zher knees, muttering indistinct words that the QI could not translate.

  ‘Why can’t I hear what zhe is saying?’

  ‘It’s not a language we know. It feels like a root language, old and ancient. I catch snippets but without context.’

  There on the standing stone, carved into its face was the Void Spiral. The sigil, pulsing green, matched the necklace the Stylorian Resonant had given her. It also matched the colour of her ever-present mote

  And below, written in texts, some ancient and alien, were words from the Litany of Veltrin.

  ?????? ???? ????????

  ???? ????? ??? ??? ????

  ?????????? ?????????? ???? ?? ????????????

  ???????? ????????, ?????? ?????? ????????

  Once Named, You Are Whole

  Vol’Shaar crossed to the standing stone and reaching out, traced the line in her language. “How is it possible that in this fractured place of heat and death there are Drexarian sigils of my clade and texts known only to Shadow Hands who manage our memories.”

  Feebee shrugged, “Don’t know, but there’s Terran words here too.”

  Then turning to Vol’Shaar she continued, “Ember, I am neither religious nor complicated. My beliefs are simple. I am a warrior, born and bred to fight. That is all I know.”

  And in that moment Ember took ownership of the silent name she had been given and answered. “I am one of three. The two I chose live in me, and through that bond, we grow our clade. I too am a warrior but one who protects the eggs I carry and if not that then the creche as a whole.”

  “Then why are you here?” asked Feebee.

  It was a simple question, but it forced Ember to inquire. Why am I really here?

  “Some would say I came to rid this planet of warm bloods. But I’m no longer sure why.” Then after a moment’s silence, “And why are you here?”

  “I am here on holiday, to relax and recover from surgeries.”

  The Drexari made a strange sound, a clicking ripple of harmonics.

  Feebee asked the QI to translate.

  ‘There’s nothing to translate, that was zher laughing.’