There exists a special kind of fear a parent gets when worrying about their child. It eats at your mind, stripping away rational thought. That my daughter is perhaps the best pilot in the galaxy, that a capable crew surrounds her, and that she has two women who love her does nothing to assuage that fear. I have always struggled with this anxiety over her, since before she was even born.

I vividly recall the panic in my heart the day I woke up in the hospital. At first, I didn’t know where I was, my mind disoriented from my injuries. Through the haze of pain, I remember being terrified for my daughter. She very nearly died, too. Losing two of my limbs had put such strain on my body that I nearly miscarried. The doctors had no hope she’d survive the week.

Viviana, of course, did not agree. We could have tried again, we knew that. Looking back on that time, we felt so strongly about saving Dia because we lost everyone else. All our friends, our colleagues, the people we considered family died on the first Danu. Everyone. We couldn’t let Cleo take Dia, too.

V ended up inventing at least two new techniques and performed the earliest transfer to an artificial womb in history. As far as I’m away, it’s still the earliest that procedure has ever been done. That she was successful is a testament to my wife’s skill and her love. It was nothing short of miraculous. 

My daughter—my proper miracle.

Watching my daughter as she boards a ship, off to battle, off to change the face of the galaxy as we know it—or die trying—is painful in a way that is difficult to articulate. All I can see is the day she was born; how delicate she felt in my arms. I can only see the first day of school; her eyes red from crying, her voice hoarse from begging me not to leave her alone. Now I am the one who is on the verge of weeping, the one who wants to plead with her to stay and live a peaceful life.

“It’s going to be okay,” my wife says, her arms coiling around my waist. “Worry not, my love.”

The hug pulls me from my thoughts. I wipe away the tears gathering in the corner of my eyes. “Yeah,” I say, hugging her close to me. “Just having a moment. I’m usually the one who tells you not to stress about her.”

Viviana chuckles. “I think we will stress about her for the rest of our life.” She leans on me, watching as the ship’s engines burst into life. “We do what we’ve always done: support her however we can.”

“I don’t know how either of you do it,” Ceridwen speaks up. “Even now, I selfishly want to put a stop to this. I know I can’t.” She clutches her hand to her chest, twisting the fabric of her dress. “I know I shouldn’t. She deserves to walk her own path; I have spent too much of her life trying to shield her.”

“That’s how we do it,” I tell her. “And sometimes, there is a little drinking involved.”

The Banféinní lifts off the ground, its engines creating pulsing gusts of wind as it takes to the skies. I watch it for as long as I can, my heart sinking into my stomach as the ship disappears. My wife touches my cheek tenderly, reassuring me once more.

“Come, you two,” she says to us. “Let us be cliché and lament over wine. Do you favor white or red, Ceridwen?”

The former empress smiles wryly, glancing between the two of us. “Wet rosé is my wine of choice.”

Viviana smirks, her fingers interlacing with mine. “A woman after my own heart. I have an excellent vintage I’ve been too busy to break into. Shall we?”

---

To be among the stars is to feel at home. My time resting on Earth was good—necessary. I recharged and recovered in ways I didn’t think I needed. Now, looking out through the optical viewscreens, I see only an ocean of stars out in front of me. If not for the mission that lies in front of us, I would feel totally at ease. I take a moment to just bask at the sight, pushing away my troubles for just a few seconds.

“Prepare to engage the Slip Drive,” I say. “I suggest everyone has a seat. We’ll be at the Gate in just under an hour.”

Eva whistles sharply. “Damn, this girl really can fly.”

Despite myself, I smile as I angle the Banféinní. Piloting a ship isn’t completely unlike piloting a mech, but the massive size makes maneuvering feel sluggish by comparison.

I make sure my crew is all seated and strapped in. Eva, cheekily, is not. She flashes me a bratty grin as I glare at her. She snaps herself in, winking at me. None of us really knows what it will be like when I activate the Slip Drive—the nervous energy in the air is palpable. “Right, here we go,” I say as I activate the system.

Entering Slip Space is not something done with fanfare or a burst of speed. One moment we are not there, and the next we are. It’s an eerie, alien place. A place of purples and greens that dance before our eyes. Static radiation rages everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Nothing resembling material reality is here. My brain fills in the gaps to form vaguely recognizable shapes—clouds, specifically.

Being here is decidedly uncomfortable. Even through the ship’s shielding and the nanomachines in my system, I feel a chill running through my bones. More than that, I think I’d go mad if I stare out into the celestial shroud too long.

This is not a place for mortals to tread.

“I can see why humans cannot survive here,” Gráinne says softly. “Would you mind changing the viewscreen to something more pleasant?”

I do so, turning off the external optics and instead have the ship’s computer track our location in real space, displaying the Sol system as we travel through this extra-dimensional ocean. It’s a benefit of having a ship with no windows—mother doesn’t believe in them for structural integrity reasons.

“Thank you,” the princess says, relaxing somewhat, though her eyes reveal her anxiousness. “I suppose now is as good a time as any to finalize our strategy.”

Brigid clears her throat, our attention drawn to her. “There are three major fleets being sent to quell nascent uprisings,” she says. “They will crush the unions brutally and swiftly, hoping it makes the others fall in line. It’s worked for them in the past. If, however, we can stop the largest of the fleets, I may be able to convince House Áine loyalists to mutiny.”

Eva cackles. “You make it sound so easy,” she says. “One ship against the largest fleet. How do you suppose we do that?”

“The railcannon can destroy a capital ship easily enough,” Brigid says., shrugging her shoulders. “If you’re comfortable killing a few thousand in an instant, give or take.”

Gráinne stiffens, her fist clenched so tightly that her knuckles turn white. “I would like to give them all a chance to surrender,” she says. “I know they will not. No sane admiral would surrender to just one ship, not even one that carries their empress, but I want to announce to my father that I am coming for him.”

“That’s smart.” I cross my arms over my chest, my brow furrowing. “Not that I like the idea of playing nice with soldiers who are more than willing to kill their own. We broadcast it across the Armory; we’ll show the people you won’t tolerate your father abusing and killing them.”

“That could spark a widespread revolution,” Brigid says, “if the people knew their empress stood beside them.” She turns to look at Gráinne, a smirk forming. “You may even convince not just those from my house to join, but others, too. For better or worse, we’re a people who respect strength above all else.”

“Why don’t we just go right to the capital and kill the emperor?” Sif asks. “I mean, it would be a lot easier than playing political games, and it’s not like they can stop us with their fleets spread so thin.”

Eva nods in agreement, looking as if she is about to speak.

“Don’t abandon the people!” Layla shouts, her eyes wide with near panic. “Please, whatever we decide, do not let the people fend for themselves. Our families—”

Gráinne lifts her chin. “I swear to you both that we will not,” she says firmly, settling the matter. “We can and should do both.” She turns to stare at Sif and Eva, her intense gaze threatening to set them aflame. “It will take us precious hours to battle through the capital’s defenses to get to my father. That is time for fleets to turn whole worlds into glass.”

“Right,” Sif says, her face contorting into a deep frown. “Sniper brain, sorry.”

“With our speed, it won’t matter if we ‘play political games’ first,” Gráinne says, her tone like a blade of ice. “We’re going to stop that fleet, and I’m going to convince the union leaders they need to prepare for leading the people into a new, better future.”

---

Magh Meall is on fire, ships raining hell from the safety of orbit. It’s a vile, disgusting act, even by the standards of the Armory. Father must truly be desperate to keep control if he is resorting to such cowardly methods. My blood boils. I look forward to tearing out his throat, though he doesn’t have nearly enough blood to pay for his atrocities.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I say, white knuckling my fist, nails cutting into my skin. “Destroy the flagship. Don’t bother opening communications.”

Sif gets into position, her skills as a sniper as good at aiming a railcannon as the Gungnir. Sif takes aim, and fires, the ship rattling as the superheated projectile launches into space. It strikes the cuttlefish monstrosity, tearing through energy barrier and hull alike. Sif hit something particularly volatile, causing a chain reaction of explosions along the remaining fragments of the ship. A brilliant shot.

The bombardment stops, our presence announced. It will take an hour to prepare another shot, but they don’t know that.

“This is Empress Gráinne,” I say, opening all frequency communications, broadcasting this not only to the surrounding ships but to the Armory itself. This is a declaration of war. “Surrender immediately, and I will spare your lives.”

“Em-empress?” The captain speaks with a shaken and uncertain voice. He stammers, “Why did—”

“Because I am taking my father’s throne and you were killing my people,” I say firmly. “Don’t ask me stupid questions. A new dawn for the Armory is here, Captain. Be a part of it or die now. You have ten minutes to decide.”

I close communications, sitting back down and finally taking a proper breath. It’s a gamble to bluff like this. Could we win in an open conflict? Perhaps we could, but it would be a bloody and long fight.

“Well, you certainly sounded the part of an empress,” Dia says to me, smirking.

“It’s how I was raised, after all.” I manage a weak smile, my heart pounding in my chest. “I hope this works.”

The minutes drag, time seems to stand still. Dia seems as calm as ever, her eyes fixed on the enemy fleet. I can see she’s already planning how to win should it come to a proper fight. Eva likewise looks quite calm, relaxing back into her chair as if nothing is wrong. Layla and Quinn are the ones who look most worried, of course, but even so they keep their cool.

“Empress Gráinne,” the captain says over the comms a touch earlier than I had demanded. “I spoke with the emperor just now. We have been ordered to destroy you.”

“Are you going to listen to a living ghost?” I ask coldly. “Because you can die along with him, I will not hesitate to destroy your entire fleet.”

“No,” he says, taking a deep breath. “He’s gone completely mad. You said there was a new dawn approaching. What is your command, Empress?”

I drum my fingers along my knee, gathering my thoughts. Even now, my actions will set the stage for what is coming. I do not want to make the transition more difficult than it needs to be by being bullheaded. “Atonement,” I say. “My orders are for you and this fleet to provide aid to the people you just slaughtered. They can decide what to do with you when they are finished burying their dead.”

“Yes, Empress,” he says, the comms going dead again.

I look at Brigid. “Thoughts?”

“I think you did exceptionally well,” she says, idly stroking her fingers along her pink braids. “It’s almost a shame you have no plans to keep the throne.”

There is an urge to smile that I fight down. It doesn’t feel appropriate under the circumstances. “Let’s head to the surface and take stock of the situation.”

The descent to the surface is somber. None of us speak, unable to tear our eyes away from the scorched surface. The city is in ruins—the loss of life is devastating. Unfathomable rage courses through my chest. It’s difficult not to scream until my voice is raw.

Dia reaches the survivors over the comms and spreads the news that the bombardment is over. They do not trust us at first, especially in light of the fact that the fleet that just bombed them is coming to offer aid. After a few moments, we settle on a place to meet.

Angry survivors greet us on the outskirts of the city, drawing their weapons as we step out of the Banféinní.

“Empress Gráinne.” An older woman with short black hair approaches me, her face haggard and sunken in. “Forgive the mistrust, but I’d really like to know what your intentions are.”

“Freedom for all of us,” I tell her stiffly. “If it is all the same to you, I would ask that you not call me Empress. It is not a title I intend to keep overlong.”

“Just Gráinne then. Call me Laoise.” She grimaces, extending her hand out for me to grasp.

I do so, giving her a firm shake. “Laoise, we have a lot of work to do.”

---

We sit in the ruins of an underground bunker; the walls cracked and crumbling. Above us, relief efforts are underway. Tensions are high, but no one is eager for further bloodshed. Gráinne’s face is expressionless, like she used to be in the weeks when we first met. Sebille, the union leader of Magh Meall, is across from us. Her face is stoney, and there is rage in her eyes. She brushes her brown hair back, tucking it behind her ear as she takes a deep sigh.

“I admit,” she says, “that the last person I expected to stop the bombardment would be you. I know you and your father have never gotten along, but to think you’d move against him so openly… it beggars belief.”

Gráinne purses her lips. “I needed a bit more courage.” She folds her hands in her lap, sitting upright, making herself look regal. “The courage you have showed, the kind that will be needed in the days ahead.”

Sebille crosses her arms in front of her chest, her brows knit tightly together. “Over the broadcast, you said there was a new dawn coming. What did you mean by that?”

“The empire is going be dismantled and turned over to the people,” she says. “I have been to Central, to Earth, and have seen how people live—how they work together for the benefit of all. I would like that for us, too.”

The grizzled woman relaxes somewhat, her weariness showing. “And how do you intend to go about that, Gráinne? Killing your father and even the nobles won’t be enough, though it’s a start.”

I put my hand on Gráinne’s shoulder, silently telling her I’d like to speak. She nods and motions for me to do so. “This is my Champion, Lady Diarmuid.”

“Yo.” I stand, looking round the room. Besides Sebille and Laoise, there are a few soldiers on duty. The rest of my crew, too. “I have an offer: when the dust settles, when the emperor and the ones who empower him are dead, Central will provide whatever you need and leave as soon as you ask.”

That causes a murmur of discontent. Laoise looks behind her, silencing the soldiers with a glare. “We will not bow to you either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of asking,” I say. “But you’re going to need help to fend off remnants of the empire, and vultures from the other system-states. You don’t have to take the offer, but I think it’s wisdom to take it.”

I pause, turning my gaze towards Sebille. “The most dangerous time after winning your freedom is keeping it. Many of the people who helped found Central in the aftermath of the Secession War are alive and well. I implore you to lean on their experience.”

“That’s a fair point,” Sebille says softly.

“You can’t—”

Sebille lifts her hand, Laoise goes quiet, her face betraying her outrage. “I studied what I could of the Secession War—tried to model even. I didn’t think the emperor would destroy his empire so recklessly.”

“We’ll make him pay for what he’s done and end everything he’s built,” I say. “In the end, taking Central’s aid or not is entirely up to you all, but we’re going to destroy the Armory either way.”

Sebille laughs then, a rowdy and hoarse laugh. “Gods, kid, you sound insane. You know, I never wanted to overthrow the emperor. I didn’t think we could, but I thought we could make things better and we were ready to fight for it.” She smiles viciously. “We got nothing to lose anymore, so let’s kill the bastard.”

“We will,” Gráinne says firmly. “From here we are going to directly to Fomoria. Brigid of House Áine is coordinating with her people to mutiny against the fleets to spare other worlds your fate.”

Brigid stands, bowing her head slightly. “My people are very loyal to me,” she says, “and are already securing ships as we speak. With the speed of our ship, we can capitalize on the in-fighting.”

“We will cut through the forces protecting my father and the nobles,” Gráinne says. “We will rip out the beating heart of the empire.”

“Good,” Sebille says. “The two of us are coming with you. I want to watch you live up to your word or die alongside you.”

Laoise lifts a brow, letting out a huff. “Well, at least now you’re talking some sense. I don’t trust them. Lieutenant Elatha!”

A young soldier snaps a salute, then approaches. She looks younger than I am, certainly younger than the students at Fianna. Her golden hair tied back into a neat ponytail. “Ma’am,” she says.

“You’re in charge while we’re away.” Laoise’s face remains stoic, difficult to read, but she speaks with a voice filled with trust. “Keep the boys in line and coordinate the relief. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Elatha replies. “Good hunting.”

---

For as long as I live, I will never forget walking among the rubble and the death of Magh Meall. It is one thing to hear and know of other’s pain, but another to see it—to see the depths of human cruelty. I will never forget how Dia only flinched at the sight, a burning but quiet hatred in her eyes. She always was the warrior, the soldier, the mercenary.

I was only ever a fool.

The Banféinní rumbles as we exit the planet’s atmosphere. I’m pulled from my thoughts, my gaze refocusing on the two women I care about most. Gráinne catches my glance, her face softening as she walks over to me. I’m pulled into a tight embrace; her lips press gently to my neck.

“You okay, Eva?” Dia asks, embracing both Gráinne and me.

What do I say? What can I say? Tears forming in my eyes. “I don’t know what I feel.” I lean into my lovers, as if to absorb them into me. “Or rather, I’m feeling too many things, and I can’t pin anything down.” I take a deep breath. “Shame. Stupidity. Horrified.”

I shut my eyes as they squeeze me, kiss me, and hold me. When I’ve put myself together, I look up, kiss them both and step out of their embrace. “I’m okay,” I tell them. “I’m not used to death and horror like that, and I’m hit with the guilt again for not having joined this fight sooner. Feels impossible to get those thoughts out of my head.”

“You are in it now,” Gráinne says, putting her hand on my cheek. “That matters more to me, to Layla and Quinn, to the people you’re helping. Stop dwelling in the past, Eva.”

“Right.”

Dia ruffles my hair, kisses my forehead, and then goes off to take the ship into Slip Space. It’s only now that I realize we’ve made quite the spectacle for the others. My cheeks darken.

“I hadn’t realized it was romantic,” Sebille says, fixing her eyes on Gráinne. “It makes a lot more sense now that Diarmuid would fight so hard for you—why you’d all fight so hard for one another. Are all of you involved?”

“She literally shattered my bonds, yes,” Gráinne replies, linking her arm with mine. “And no, just the three of us. You don’t sound too terribly shocked or outraged.”

Laoise huffs. “There are a lot of us lesbians out and about,” she says, shaking her head. “Just because we’re illegal don’t mean we don’t exist.”

“Honestly, I can’t imagine what that kind of life must be like,” I say. “Where I’m from, we hack our biology freely and love whomever we choose. We protect that fiercely, too.”

“We didn’t just become that way by accident, to be fair,” Dia says as the ship once again goes into that otherworldly plane of existence. “It started with liberating the weakest among us, the queer, the destitute, and the outcasts. That’s what triggered the Secession War in the first place.”

Sebille frowns. “How did you get that far even?” she asks, her exhaustion seeping into her voice. “Because I’m at a loss. Mostly all people care about is labor rights, which was already hard enough to rally people around.”

“Violence.” I shrug. “There came a point where all the theory in the world was doing no good. It didn’t matter how well anyone broke down the problems or isolated root causes. It was all an appeal to power in the end, and it never worked.”

Dia leans on the console, her arms crossed over her chest. “A small group of lesbians, who called themselves the Vipers of Eden, formed a resistance and support network when no one else would. They picked targets, from powerful people to vital infrastructure, and destroyed them without hesitation.”

Everyone is looking at her now, a common occurrence when she starts with her passionate speeches—she’s just so good at them. She flushes slightly as she realizes we’re all staring.

“Small, but impactful acts of resistance galvanized the apathetic and the nihilists,” she continues. “The inner workings of the system cascaded until war broke out.” Dia gathers her thoughts, her eyes flitting between everyone in the room. “I think that the secret was that they didn’t ask permission to make changes—they just did. When the dust settled, we had a new society, a better one.”

“We were never taught that part,” Gráinne says. “The entire war was obfuscated—the motives and circumstances. They sound remarkable. It’s almost unbelievable that it started off with such a small group.”

Dia grins wide. “I never thought about it quite like this, but it dawns on me now that we’re carrying that legacy. It’s the same fight, just a different battleground.”

The mood on the ship shifts, the somber tension dissipating. “You’re right,” I say, “and we’re going to win. Whatever it takes, we’re going to win.”

“You damn right.” Laoise walks over to Gráinne, looks at her, then me and finally at Dia. “I misjudged the whole lot of you and came because I didn’t trust you—especially you.” Her gaze fixed on Gráinne. “You’re really going to just give it all up when you kill your father?”

The princess nods. “I swear on my love of these two that I will,” she says, glancing at Dia and me. “Liberation is what I desire, not power.”

“Then I’m with you until the end,” Laoise says.

“I’m glad my instincts were right.” Sebille steps next to Laoise, kissing her on the cheek. “Let’s get some rest, love. We haven’t in a while and gods know we need it.”

Laoise leans into the touch, nodding. “Of course. We’ll see you all soon… thanks for putting up with the hostility.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “They put up with me, and I’m way worse.”

“It’s true,” Dia says, shaking her head. “I think everyone getting rest is a good idea. Tomorrow, we change the galaxy.”

---

The hours we have left are too few, and so I revel in the flesh of my lovers. The pair of them graciously indulged my request to lie in our bed, completely in the nude. We three agreed it was best not to fuck one another so soon before the battle, as tempting as it might be—we need rest. Gods, I want them. To take one or perhaps inside me, to have my body wrapped around theirs. I squirm on the bed despite myself, doing my best to shove the thoughts down. Dia’s face on my breast, and Eva with her leg over my hips is, of course, not helping in the slightest. Almost worse than the physical contact is their scent, fragrant vanilla mixed with spices and subtle sweetness. Lucky for me, the two of them are already asleep, leaving me to my incessant imaginings.

I am going to live. I will make sure they live, too. We will go home together.

I repeat the thought again, and again, and again like a determined mantra. Eva snores softly, rubbing at her face in her sleep. Dia looks so peaceful, her face so much softer now compared to when she’s awake. My wolf and my lion. They are precious to me. They are my joy.

We will live.

All too soon, the alarm goes off, signaling the end to the rest. There’s very little time to dwell on when we wake up. We pushed our nap to the last possible moment and are paying for it by having to rush into our mechs.

I miss their skin.

“We’re dropping out of Slip Space behind enemy lines,” Dia says. “Mechs are launching immediately. Laoise and Sebille will go down in the dropship once we’ve secured the palace courtyard.”

My flesh gives way to chrome and wires as my mind is pulled away from my body. The impact of reentering reality is harsh. The ship shakes violently as the atmosphere of Fomoria clashes with the hull of the Banféinní. With metal clamps snapping to our feet, the four of us are positioned into the launch tubes.

“XF01-Phantom Queen, Diarmuid Mirren, launching.”

“S3X9-Morning Star, Evangeline Lilith, launching.”

“OX77-Valkyrie, Sif Sigyn, launching.”

“L50X-Bansidhe, Gráinne MacAirt, launching.”

The skies of my homeworld smash into me, my chrome flesh becoming superheated as I descend to the surface. Fomorian ships are too slow to realize we’ve already gotten behind them. Their shots go wide. It’s nearly impossible to accurately hit such small targets moving at these speeds. The only threat we’re likely to face in the air is mechs scrambled from the surface that will attempt to intercept us.

Indeed, a group of mechs approaches, my alerts buzzing with each new enemy. Dia and Eva are quick to respond, their swarm-bits cutting down our enemies as they approach. We do not stop to fight them, instead we rush through them with brutal efficiency. The blade at the end of my tail is particularly effective at sweeping through the small aerial horde. Getting stuck in the air means death, and so we keep pushing forward even at risk of leaving our back exposed.

The Amory mechs struggle to keep up with us. Within moments, we outpace them entirely, leaving them in our wake. The palace, the place of my birth, comes into view—I urge to dismantle it piece by piece. My boosters work double to slow me down, my feet crashing onto the surface, cracking the ground under my feet.

It’s a flurry of fire the moment we land. Royal guard mechs greeting us with a barrage of attacks. I once admired these machines. Grouped together, their uniform color, purple and black, and identical design is quite striking. Today, they only fill me with rage, my years of captivity coming to the surface.

To say we caught them off-guard isn’t quite accurate, but they are still slow to respond, having had hardly any time at all to prepare for our arrival. Sif takes the head of a mech with her rifle instantly, the mech falling to its knees. Dia slices through it, moving towards her next target without stopping.

Eva joins me back-to-back, our enemies beginning to surround us. “Sif, find a place to perch and cover us,” she says.

“Way ahead of you.”

I dash forward, my blade clashing against a guard’s shield. It takes little effort to overwhelm them with a flurry of strikes. Before long, I stab the beam saber into the cockpit. I kick them off, moving onto my next opponent. This is not like the duels at school, not at all. This is a battlefield of survival and to survive, I must deal out death with brutal and efficient grace.

I strike at another guard. They parry and repost. I spin, avoiding their thrust, my tail slicing through their core. The mech explodes as it falls to the ground. Two more appear before me. Sif shoots one down almost as soon as it moves, the other I crush myself, slamming my body into theirs. I throw them to the ground, shoving my foot through metal and flesh.

An alert goes off. A mech somehow manages to sneak behind me. It’s unlike the others—a custom designed white and green machine with a wicked face. Our blades catch one another in the air.

“Not letting you go any further, Princess.” The voice is familiar: Bres.

Dia appears suddenly, her foot smashing into Bres’ mech, sending him hurtling into the wall. “I got this one,” she says. “I’m suddenly filled with the urge to crack more ribs.”

“If you’re so inclined, love,” I tell her, dashing away to support Eva.

“You!” Bres yells. “Oh, I’ve waited for this. I’m going to take pleas—”

I turn back to see my wolf reducing Bres’ mech to slag with the full fury of her swarm-bits, seeming to take delight in reducing him to parts. To see one of my tormentors slain with such swift and elegant violence by a woman I love fills me with joy. I smirk.

“Always hated the sound of his voice,” Dia says.

I find Eva taking on three enemies by herself, holding two of them off with her wings, smashing into another with her massive axe. I enter the fray, ramming into one and knocking them over. Eva follows my movements, taking advantage of our enemy writhing on the ground. Her axe seers through the chrome flesh. Sif takes down the third with another perfect shot from her Gungnir.

We support one another as we fight, our bonds synching our movements together. It doesn’t take us much longer to secure the courtyard. The royal guard mechs lie in ruins, their pilots dead or fleeing. The path inside is now open to us. Laoise and Sebille join us not too long after. We load the mechs onto the drop ship; they have now served their purpose in getting us this far. The ship’s AI flies back to the Banféinní.

From here, we take the palace on foot. There is still a veritable army in our way. My father will have gathered all his men to him in a last-ditch effort to save himself. It matters not. I know every secret pathway, every trap he will have set out for us.

He cannot escape me. I will take off his head with my bare hands.