No. No. But Vilithe had to stop herself, she couldn’t let Amefrid feel her panic and dread.

  They were going to force Knight Leader to do the exact same hideous orchestration that they had forced upon Atell. Only this time it wouldn’t just be a sister. It really will be Kay-El’s own Queen. They were going to force Kay-El to kill his own mother, to break him.

  He was the true prize. A psionic warrior, utterly dutiful to the Princess. While slaying Queen Talauth would be the resolution of an inevitability, it was going to be Kay-El’s changing of allegiance that would provide the greatest future capital return.

  I am pleased with the ruthless effectiveness you’ve cultivated in the vassals under your command. So, I am sending your team in as the vanguard. Your one mission is simple. Cut off the head of the dragon. The entirety of Clan Amallark’s Aryssal forces will be there, so do not disappoint me.

  But do tell me, vassal…

  The probing burrowed deeper into the cloak, and Vilithe tried to push it out, but Amefrid’s psionic power was overwhelming. Vi had no idea whether Amefrid had broken through the cloak, but all she could do at this point was hope for the best.

  …how did the bodyguard unlock his psionic abilities?

  Bodyguard?

  Vilithe’s eyes widened. The closer she tried to probe into Vilithe’s mind, the more she exposed Vi to her own thoughts. Amefrid had given something away! Knight Leader’s original purpose! But did Amefrid give it away on purpose? Was it some sort of ruse? Knight Leader, and Second, Third and Fourth… they were bodyguards. And only one elvan in any clan was important enough to warrant bodyguards. The Queen.

  Amefrid was going to send Queen Talauth’s own bodyguards to kill her. The sick irony of it was not lost on Vilithe.

  But now was not the time to dwell on that.

  Remembering Kay-El’s lie, which had originally caught her off guard, for it was uncharacteristic of the Kay-El she had come to know, she launched into a further elaboration of the deception.

  The vassal knight had implored me to help him better serve Clan Amallark. His dedication to the cause was inspiring. We worked together to help realize his full potential, so that we could better serve you, your highness. Not far enough from the truth for Amefrid to be able to detect- she hoped.

  Good. I am giving you control of your reaver. Get as close as you can to the hidden Talauthian stronghold without detection. Then relay your report to Therys. She will disseminate it properly. I have further duties for you, greater ones, upon your return to the hive. And you shall be rewarded.

  Amefrid wondered if this might mean that her chauffeur was finally ready for service. Had she jumped the gun in implying it? But as ever, the Princesses of Clan Amallark, like mother like daughter, were paranoid. She assumed that witnessing Atell’s breaking would amplify the vassal’s despair, but this was odd. This wasn’t despair she felt, no. She couldn’t place the word. Did it have something to do with this bond she could feel between the vassal and Talisa’s psionic warrior bodyguard?

  It was a psi connection unlike anything Amefrid had ever felt before. Never once did Amefrid consider that the power of young love, a true rarity on Aryss, was amplifying their psi in ways she could not imagine. For love was scarce and unfamiliar in the Amallark family. Lust for power, greed, gluttony, cruelty, ambition, pride, cunning, they had that all in spades. But the fundamental problem was that neither of the current generation of daughters really knew what was truly in the heart of their Queen Mother, the Traitor Empress. They lacked connection.

  Betrayal is difficult when you wear your cards like a sleeve, so the Empress never did, but empathy is just as difficult without a hand reveal. It had been decades since Amefrid had even physically embraced her own mother, even when she was still favored. Now she felt so far away from the warmth of her mother’s love, for so long, that she had forgotten what she was like before she became so cold-blooded. For as counterintuitive as it may seem, considering the nature of psionics, the Empress considered empathy a weakness. She forbade empathy. She taught her daughters to break into minds, take what they wanted, but to never try and feel what their victims felt. That way lay madness for a tyrant, she knew all too well.

  But that was exactly why Amefrid missed it. If she had understood that she would know- by falling in love the two subjects that were currently in her absolute control suddenly had so much more at stake. They had so much more to fight for, to die for. Like her Mother did to her, she might have understood that they could go rogue at any moment and go against her. She might have considered bringing them back to the hive first for psionic examination, at the very least.

  But in this moment of all moments, that would be unacceptably inconvenient. Her goal was so, so close, and maybe the Suicide Squad could do it, plus the full might of her forces on Aryss. Getting back Goddess Mother’s good graces was too important to her. Blindingly important.

  And so instead Amefrid just thought, in a very crude and superficial sense, ah they’re getting psi-laid, makes sense, good for them. That must be why they’re so effective, maybe she could implement some kind of protocol to boost all of her vassal forces. She briefly wondered how it worked.

  Vilithe couldn’t catch any of that nonsense, so distressed was she, so adamant on keeping her psi cloak woven tight, that she didn’t dare attempt to scry Amefrid’s mind with intent. She could only steal away what thoughts Amefrid carelessly let dribble out.

  This will be your final mission on this ranging, vassal. You shall all return to the hive after this. Your service to Clan Amallark will not go unrewarded, upon your return.

  And like that, Amefrid’s slimy, slithering psi presence was gone.

  Vi sat now in the same numb silence that Atell and the Knight Leader had sunken into. She sat there, motionless, but her psionic essence was scrambling, restless, and for the first time, truly terrified, for throughout her time as a vassal, she had never had this much to lose.

  How is she going to tell Kay-El of this monstrous mission? How could she let him go through with it? The light inside him will fade, just like Kwandriss, just like Atell. But what other option was there?

  The inescapable fact that it was Vilithe herself who unlocked the critical memory, Talisa, the name of his own mother, gnawed away at her. It was her fault. It was her fault that Kay-El now knew where he once belonged. If she had just kept that hidden in his mind, then at least maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to hurt him as much. But then she realized that the inability to understand one’s own pain, as Atell now could not, only exacerbated the excruciation. It was an impossible situation!

  No. Nothing is impossible. Not now! She had to find a way! As long as they still breathed, there had to be a solution!

  They were still alive, after all!

  She cringed and grimaced. She clasped her hands together so hard, her nails dug deep into her knuckles and drew blood, desperate now, begging now for that omnipotent cosmic force which she had doubted ever since her entire family was slain, to please, please talk to her. Tell her what to do! But no such god answered. Finally, she began to cry.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  She realized though that there was, indeed, someone she could get a response from.

  Mal. What should I do? What do I do, Mal?

  There was nothing but the empty calm of psionic silence.

  MAL!

  Mal appeared in long flowing mane fae form, but he did not appear like Kay, for that would be too hideously taunting for his master, instead Malevolent looked- almost like an androus version of Vilithe herself. Animus to Anima. He was even wearing the same thing, a form fitting psion’s jumpsuit.

  “Do you really want me to tell you, Vilithe? The last time you wanted me to break immediately.” He said these words softly, with concern and care.

  She didn’t say anything. Because she knew now what his answer already would be.

  So, she said it. “I have to talk to him.”

  It took a damn long time for her to say it though. She didn’t want to do it; she dreaded it so much.

  Malevolent disappeared.

  Kay-El slumbered, his eyes flickering fast in rapid eye movement, obliviously, unaware that everything would soon change. He was having that same recurring dream, a shadowy figure from another side of a sliding doorway, who watched him as the doors slid closed. Vilithe had watched that dream so many times that now she had little doubt who that was a silhouette of.

  She had loved to be with him, to telepathically converse with him, to be in psionic communion with him, so much. They were without doubt the best memories of her entire life. Even better than dragon riding. Though she loved her fallen sisters, and despite all the violence… just having this connection, one unlike any she had before, she cherished it more than any other. They weren’t just working as a team, they weren’t just learning about each other, they weren’t just growing, they didn’t just care for each other- they needed each other. She wanted her mind to spend the rest of her entire life with him, to be there with him, to be close enough- within psionic range of him. She was at home when she was with him. She wanted to touch him, and they were so close.

  But they just had to kill his mom.

  Kay. She thought gently. It was just enough to rouse him mid-dream, before it ended, before his body could have a chance to flush it from him with a styxian norepinephrine flood. His eyes slowly fluttered open.

  They had only four hours left. There was no time left to waste. She couldn’t think of a solution, but maybe he could?

  What’s up, Vi? He was back to his carefree, jovial disposition that he always seemed to have naturally when he was with her. She was always impressed with his ability to bounce back from the lowest of lows. Even when they lost Eighth, he mourned, yes, but it only steeled his resolve, he had promised himself he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  And then it happened twice, yester rote. Ninth and Eleventh. Damn it. He wasn’t even there when Eleventh died. Why didn’t Second have that? He tried so hard to instill what he could to his brother.

  Kay, I… She had no idea what to say, but he was now so attuned to her that he could instantly tell something was wrong and now it was him who intruded. He dove into her mind, grasping, demanding, seeking, scrying. Vi did not have the heart to try and get in his way, because there was no softening the blow with armor here, no way to parry or deflect, this was what it was.

  No.

  NO!

  NO! NO! NO! NO!

  An explosive, exponentiating, tumorous presence that had been there all along, ratcheting up, bit by bit, waiting for the asymptote, it surged into Vilithe, from Vilithe, out of Vilithe. And so too, into the Knight Leader, from the Knight Leader, and out of the Knight Leader. Their hates were all mixed up together, their sorrows too, their pain and fury. So Vilithe had to experience the fullness of each unendurable revelation, unfolding like little catastrophes, little apocalypses and armageddons, little galaxies of possibility all dying inside the Knight Leader’s mental universe, reminding her of the way she had imprinted her thoughts upon his sister, Kwandriss Talauth:

  I am going to be sent in, with the entirety of Amefrid’s army, to exterminate my entire living family, what remains of it, in less than four hours.

  Very likely we are going to capture my mother, and then my enslaver’s minds are going to enter and infect my body, taking it from me, taking my agency away from me, taking my choices from me, and they are going to force me to kill her. And then they’ll laugh about it, like Serun and Juulyn did after they did it to Atell and his sister Exasha. In less than four hours.

  And very likely doing this will break my mind with such utter finality that I really will be their enslaved weapon forever. At least, until I go insane. And then they will lobotomize me. And yet still I will remain a slave.

  He glanced at Atell, collapsed, unconscious, broken.

  Four hours left.

  Vilithe wished she was in control, that she could delete these thoughts like she did with Kwandriss’s hopes and dreams, but this was no longer just an imprinting of an educated guess of the fate of the Aryssal climate, this was instead simply: the truth. What could be done to mask the truth? Something that was true and known to be true- if the knower knew how they knew- was the most invincible thought.

  But there had to be a solution.

  Unlike Vilithe, the Knight Leader came up with a solution immediately.

  He instinctively leapt up on his cast up dominant leg, though his tendons were torn and searing pain blasted it’s way all up his leg, and he couldn’t support his weight so he staggered to his other leg, it hardly fazed him as he grabbed his rifle and shoved the barrel’s end up against the roof of his mouth, and wrapped his thumb around the trigger.

  Serendipitously gifted with a thicker corpus callosum, or so they believed.

  Or so they believed.

  Hadn’t they just done that? But Exasha was nothing compared to the Last Rogue Queen. And having cut down Exasha, sending the rogues who still resisted that had come together under her banner scattering, Amefrid was now free to commit the full might of her forces to hunt down the true prize- The Lsast Rogue Queen, Talisa Talauth. The only victory that could be equal to Senjya’s slaying of Sidarael. The only trophy that could bring her back to Goddess Mother’s good graces.

  No wonder they were stronger than your normal soldier or knight, although it was still only the Knight Leader who seemed to have special psionic abilities.

  And such vulnerability was unacceptable to the Empress, even if it was the only way to play a winning hand.

  Or, perhaps, made to forget.

  It put limits to their psionic reach, but it also enhanced their psionic defense.

  They already did.

  Unknown unknowns and all.

  The truly unfortunate thing was that Amefrid had never truly fallen in love. It was impossible. Her Goddess Mother had trained her to believe she was above any other elvan, so how could she meet a peer that felt her equal? One that she could grow from and learn from? She also couldn’t breed until her Goddess Mother let her. So to poor Amefrid- sex really was it. It was just pleasure, devoid of meaning. And that’s as good as it got. It was why despite having more and more of it, it never felt enough. She simply had no frame of reference in mind for what was happening to Vilithe and Kay-El.

  Did he jack off while she hallucinated him? Or did he hallucinate her back, could he do that? Could she try that? If she did who would she do it with- would it help Serun last longer?

  If anyone was listening it would only be the God Empress herself. But the conduit dragons had not brought her presence here. Not yet.

  Which might have been pleasant in any circumstance other than a prayer unanswered.

  Reminiscent of Sephiroth.

  No reasoning tokens needed here.

  Pep talk over. He knew that there was going to be some drama coming up soon, and he did not want to be involved or take any part of it. He retreated into the lowest levels of Vilithe’s unconscious.

  Oh, home, let me come home. Home is whenever I’m with you.

  Touch. I remember touch. Where do I belong? I need something more. Home. Hold on. If love is the answer, you’re home.

  He knew now Second was his brother, for Vilithe had made it known to him.

  This thought broke Vilithe. She had endured the same, but not with her complicity. She defended the fall of her clan, but Kay-El would be one of the executioners.

  If the trolley problem posits that any one single body could stop the trolley, then the only truly ethical solution would be to throw yourself upon the tracks.