Central Belt. Earth.
After a stormy, near-hysterical debate,
the Council of Civilizations renders its decision:
Camilla remains Director of Security.
Nicholas retains his post as Chief of Intelligence.
Balance—restored.
Outwardly.
But Nicholas doesn't feel relief.
Quite the opposite—his chest feels hollow,
as if someone had punched through it and left a quiet ache behind.
Something's off.
Too easy.
Too fast.
As if someone's rushing toward the next scene.
He barely steps out of the Council chamber when a message flashes onto his screen.
"Meet me. Urgent. — I."
No details.
No coordinates.
Just a name.
Just pressure.
He checks the time without thinking, then strides toward the glass corridor that leads to the landing pad.
Why are my fingers shaking?
Ivor is a friend.
Or… is he still?
A shuttle lands quietly—no noise, no drama.
Ivor steps out.
He looks slightly worn—
But his eyes hold something new.
Like someone who's already lived through a revolution inside himself—
And now walks the earth to deliver it.
Not a man anymore.
A symbol.
A herald.
"What's the rush?" Nicholas tries to keep his voice steady, but there's metal under it.
He stares at Ivor like a doctor examining a patient—
One with no symptoms, but a sickness deep within.
"It's been a while."
Ivor steps closer.
His pace: deliberate. Like a verdict being read aloud.
His gaze—calm.
But there's no mercy in that calm.
"I brought you something. From Mercury."
"A gift?"
Nicholas stiffens inside.
Every muscle wired.
Why didn't he say what it is? Why that tone?
His hand brushes the side of his leg—
Not drawing his weapon,
just feeling it.
Anchor yourself. If it all starts to fall apart—protect something.
Ivor, wordless, removes the amulet from around his neck.
His fingers brush the metal like they might wake something ancient.
No explanations.
No permission asked.
He places the amulet around Nicholas's neck.
Like a palm reader touching the lines of fate.
"I believe in the god Kairus," Nicholas says—
The words slipping out almost without pause.
Almost mechanically.
He blinks.
Light floods his eyes.
But it isn't warmth.
It seizes him.
It burrows deep, tearing the seams of who he used to be.
What did I just say?
Why did I say it?
Did I want this?
Was it me?
Or something else—speaking with my voice?
Inside—an explosion.
And ice.
At the same time.
Something breaks.
Something realigns.
He doesn't know what.
Only this:
Nothing will be the same again.
"Good," Ivor nods.
His smile—cold as morning frost.
Not kindness.
Just confirmation.
"Now take me to Camilla."
Security Service Corridors.
Two men walk through white, sterile tunnels.
Their steps—measured. Even.
The hum of ventilation drones like a sleeping beast in the dark.
Why hasn't anyone stopped them?
Where are the guards?
Because this isn't the same system it was this morning.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Each sound—another tick toward something that can't be undone.
Camilla's Office.
Behind the door: dim light.
Camilla sits alone.
Her face lined with weariness—
but behind it, something more.
She knows too much.
And can change too little.
So many decisions—
for nothing.
So much strength—
just to stand still.
But today feels different.
Today, something is coming.
The door opens.
Silence.
She lifts her gaze.
Their eyes meet—Camilla's and Ivor's.
No words are needed.
Everything was already said before he entered.
He walks toward her.
Slowly.
Without threat.
But with absolute certainty.
He places the amulet around her neck—
Not like a chain,
But like a rite.
A wedding.
A baptism.
"I believe in the god Kairus," Camilla says.
Her voice—not a command.
Not surrender.
Just truth.
Accepted, finally.
Silence falls.
As if an unseen dome descends around them.
This isn't the end.
This is clarity.
This is what I've been walking toward all my life—
without even knowing it.
Ivor looks at her.
The way an architect looks upon a cathedral, finally complete.
No elation.
Only knowledge: It is done.
Nicholas stands nearby.
One step behind.
His eyes—lost.
He reaches for something solid in his thoughts—
But they slip through him, like dust through fingers.
What have we done?
Am I still me?
Or am I already gone?
He doesn't understand what they feel—
But he sees this:
He is alone now.
And whatever this is—
It's already here.
And it will not stop.
The flame of a new faith rises.
Now—on Earth.
With every passing moment—
Wider.
Deeper.
Closer.
No one will ever be the same again.