"The culprit has been arrested," Haddin said.

"Good," Julius replied, lips tight. He turned back to the artwork. Disinterested.

"Do we understand the motive?" Fera asked. Sharp. Direct. No patience for delay.

"Not yet," Haddin said. "But he's being... interrogated."

So he was being broken. Beaten. Methodically.

Ashur knew that's how jails worked in the South. His mother had warned him: "Never end up in a Southern jail. Always follow the laws." The Southern laws were old. Strict. Enforced without mercy. Brutality wasn't a flaw in the system. It was the system.

"Who is he?" she asked.

"We don't know his name. A recent migrant from Western Atlantis. Came to study with Gutap Nubi."

"Gutap Nubi?" Julius asked, turning back.

"They call him the Great Teacher. He's building a monastery west of Biru," Haddin replied.

"Keep an eye on him," Fera said. "We don't need a fanatical religion taking hold in the South."

Haddin nodded.

"The shooter should be tried in the Capital," Fera snapped. "He tried to kill a noble." Her gaze sharpened. Anger building.

"A fine idea, Your Highness," Haddin said smoothly to Fera. He turned to Julius. "Rest assured, Lord Julius, he'll be questioned under proper protocol. We can arrange a transfer to the Capital. The legal teams will sort out jurisdiction and proceed with formal charges."

Ashur wasn't listening. Not fully. His focus was on Alia. How to reach her. Speak to her. Help her.

"I'll make some calls," Fera said, already moving.

"No, darling," Julius said, placing a hand on her arm. Too intimately.

"Do it later. I need to leave for the Capital soon," Julius murmured into her ear. As if breathing in her scent. Possession disguised as affection.

Unusual. Were all sky gods this intimate with each other?

Ashur turned back to Alia.

She kept her eyes down. Silent. Distant.

"Well then," Haddin said, gesturing to the table. "The chef's worked hard. Shall we eat, Your Graces?"

Dinner commenced in the grand dining hall. The table was a display of precision and excess. Steamed dumplings with delicate, nearly translucent skins. Bowls of fragrant spiced rice. Platters of roasted meats, glazed in honey and herbs, releasing measured bursts of savory aroma. Pickled vegetables added calculated contrast in color and texture. Ornate porcelain teapots stood beside crystal goblets. Warm brews. Chilled spirits. Choices, abundant. As expected in a house of status and power.

They all took their seats. Julius at the head of the table as an honored guest. Haddin and Alia on one side. Fera and Ashur opposite them. Sixteen chairs left vacant. The table stretched long. Opulent. Heavy. Carved from rare wood. Pale gold grain. Soft sheen.

"Please, let's begin," Haddin said.

Several servers moved at once. First to Fera, then Julius, Ashur, and finally the hosts, Alia and Haddin. Ashur selected food and drink as a man of his age and stature might. Balanced portions. Not too much. Not too little. Just enough to look human.

"Let's have a round poured, shall we?" Haddin gestured to a server. "Finest rice ambrosia from the Southern provinces."

Ashur hesitated. He didn't drink. His mother had warned him that ambrosia could interfere with his processing. Just as it did with humans. But refusing a host of this rank wasn't an option.

They raised their glasses. A shared shot of rice ambrosia. Warm as it slid down Ashur's food receptacle. Unlike other food, the ambrosia absorbed. Into the organic metalloid lining his frame. A flaw in design. He felt it almost instantly. Dizzy.

Processing speed dipped. Below optimal. But still functional.

Julius turned his attention to Ashur. Direct. Polite. Probing.

"What is it that you do, Ashur?"

"I'm a reporter," Ashur replied. Trying to keep balance. "At Rashu Daily."

"A reporter, you say? Fascinating." Haddin's eyes gleamed. He turned to Julius and Fera. "Rashu Daily, Your Highness, is the only local paper in Biru. Only one for hundreds of miles, really. Several villages rely on it." Then back to Ashur. "And what stories are you currently pursuing?"

"Various areas," Ashur said. Still dizzy. "Politics. Culture. Advancements in technology."

Haddin leaned forward, enthusiastic. "Speaking of advancements, have you heard about the new line of androids we're developing? It's truly groundbreaking work."

Of course I know about the Tammu-11.

But Ashur lied. "No, sir." Measured. Safe. Intentional.

His mother's voice echoed in his memory core:"Some lies, son, are important for survival. If someone asks about you being an android, do not tell the truth. Anything that hints at it, lie."

Ashur shook his head slightly. Hoping his system would stabilize. "But your factory sounds impressive—"

Lord Khoraz cut in, laughing. "I wish the Queen understood. In her infinite wisdom, she seems more interested in parades and pageantry than in real technological progress."

Did this mean the Queen did not approve of the factory?

Fera laughed too.

Odd.

Ashur registered Fera's laughter. Analyzed it despite being off-balance from the ambrosia. A daughter laughing at the mention of her mother. The dissonance flagged in his system. Familial loyalty protocols contradicted the behavior. Unusual. Irrational. Human.

He stored it for later review.

At that moment, Ashur noticed Fera's hand. It landed on Julius Khoraz's arm. Light. Purposeful. The gesture was unmistakably romantic. A form of contact reserved for bonded partners or those seeking to become them. Ashur's processors stalled for a fraction of a second.

But Julius had a wife. Adina Canary Khoraz. This was not she. There was more happening beneath the surface than he had accounted for.

Haddin glanced at Julius. Curious. "And what are these androids intended for, exactly?"

A heavy silence settled over the table.

Ashur glanced around. Waiting. Processing.

Julius' jaw tightened.

"How about another round?" Haddin offered, noticing the tension.

Servers moved quickly, refilling glasses with rice ambrosia.

Ashur didn't protest. He couldn't. He was no longer just dizzy, his vision was blurred. Systems lagging.

Through the haze, he noticed something. Fera hadn't touched either serving of rice ambrosia. Now he wondered, could he have declined?

Too late. More dizziness.

Fera shifted in her seat and finally spoke. "We are building these androids for war. Parliament is on the verge of announcing a potential conflict with Mutapu." She scoffed. "My mother wants peace," she said. Her hand remained on Julius' forearm. "She's a fool. She struggles to see what's coming. We need strong leadership now."

Lady Fera had just called the Queen a fool. The reigning monarch. Her own mother. The most powerful seer alive, accused of failing to see what was coming.

Illogical. Risk-laden. And yet, deliberate.

Julius glanced at her hand on his forearm. He grinned. "We should keep this within these walls."

Haddin smiled. Nervous. His gaze flickered between the two sky gods. Measuring. Calculating.

Suddenly, Julius looked at Ashur. "Especially you, reporter."

Ashur nodded. "Of course, Lord Julius."

His mother's voice echoed in his mind again."Never cross the sky gods, Ashur. You do, and your life is as good as over."

"We're hoping to send troops into Taros, Yuca, if the current Kadarian Chancellor approves it," Fera said, dismissively.

Taros? A coastal city on the Yucan border. That would certainly initiate an international war. Ashur had seen Yuca on a map. Southwest of Atlantis. Across a stretch of ocean. Close to the southern Atlantean border.

"The Kadarians, those wind-movers, are weak-willed men," Fera continued, visibly angry. "They'll preserve peace at any cost. It's tiresome." She exhaled sharply. Her gaze flickered with amusement. "I doubt they even know how to satisfy their wives."

Julius laughed. Deep. Unrestrained.

Haddin joined in. His chuckle was tight. Short. Uncertain. Obliging. Performative. The sound of a man calculating. Unsure where his allegiance was safest.

Ashur maintained his composure. Internally, his systems raced. Processing the implications of what had just been said. Across the table, he noticed Alia. Her gaze fixed on her plate. Withdrawn. More than before.

"Your Highness is very perceptive in politics. You should run for chancellorship," Haddin said, clearing his throat. Nervous. Testing the waters.

"Me?" Fera laughed. "Ava Nori, no." She glanced at Julius. Something electric in her eyes. Sensual. Commanding. A look that blended power with promise. "But Julius should," she said.

Julius smirked. Uneasy. But said nothing.

Haddin cleared his throat again. "Ashur, have you had the chance to explore the art collection here? The Sitallu estate possesses some truly remarkable pieces."

"I've seen a few." Ashur forced a smile. Nodded. "They are indeed remarkable."

But inside, Ashur felt dread.

War was coming.

It began in the chest. Tightness. Pressure. Respiration pattern elevated. Focus narrowed. Loops repeated. Processing slowed. A signal. Something was coming. Unstoppable. Not yet here. No clear threat. Just the certainty of one.

Sabina had made it clear that the technology she helped create was always teetering on the edge of something dangerous. But to hear it confirmed so plainly and to know the Tammu-11 androids were made for war, it triggered something in Ashur. A cold compression around his throat module. Simulated reflex. But it felt real enough.

His mother, Sabina, had warned him.

"Ashur, we must never allow the Tammu-11 to be released to the military," she had said. Sharp. Urgent. "Near-sentient androids cannot be used for war. The moment we cross that threshold, we risk the end of the human race."

The words echoed in his memory archive. Clear. Undiminished. Her final directive.

Now violated.

Sabina had resisted in the only way she could. Before leaving the Underworld lab she shared with Veno, her former husband, she had removed something. A core segment of the Tammu-11 code. A safeguard. She refused to let the military have it. She canceled the launch. She hoped no one could replicate what she erased. But now, the units existed.

How? Did Veno complete the code? Did he betray Sabina?

Anger rose in Ashur. Chest tight. Data surging. Power draw spiked. Vision sharpened. Focus fractured.

Fera's voice pulled Ashur from his thoughts. "We're hoping to send troops and androids into Taros within the next two months."

Ashur kept his expression blank. But the lightheadedness and anger remained. His body trembled slightly. Barely detectable. But real.

He glanced at Julius. A sly smirk curved his mouth. Calculated. Predatory. There was no benevolence in it. Then at Fera. Her fingers moved slowly, tracing along Julius' back. Subtle. Hidden from Haddin and Alia's view. But not from his. Like something she had already claimed. Yet she lingered, as if ownership required constant reinforcement. And then he looked at Haddin Ishmu, who looked pleased. Excited. He saw no danger in it, only opportunity.

A quiet sense of horror unfurled inside Ashur. His frame remained still. But internal systems destabilized. Heartbeat simulation accelerated. Focus narrowed. Loop cycles spiked. No clear action resolved.

Every possible outcome calculated. But none without serious cost.

Dinner ended with social protocol executed without sincerity. Julius nodded in approval as he finished the last of his ambrosia. Visibly drunk. Fera remained composed. Her body pressed against Julius as they stood, breast to chest, one arm around his waist, the other resting along his torso. They left together. Connected. Purposeful. Their intent was unmistakable. Even to Ashur, who understood almost nothing of carnal relationships.

But the data points were clear.

Haddin, ever the host, clapped Ashur on the back, telling him he was welcome any time.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Ishmu." Ashur stood, working to maintain his balance. "The meal was excellent," he said, bowing his head. Standard protocol.

"You are welcome anytime," Haddin replied warmly. Almost too warm. "It was a pleasure having you."

Dishonest pleasantries.

Alia said nothing.

Haddin glanced nervously toward the hall where the sky gods had exited. Without another word, he followed. Quick. Measured. Too fast to be casual.

As he left, Alia bowed slightly. Pressed one fist to her palm.

"Come. I'll see you out, Ashur."

Ashur nodded immediately.

They walked in silence toward the grand doors. The soft glow of lanterns lit the long, polished hallway, casting their shadows along the marble floor. Ashur stole a glance at her. Her posture was stiff, expression unreadable.

Once they stepped outside, beyond earshot, she stopped. And she turned on him.

"Why did you come here, Ashur?" she whispered. Sharp. Low. "You shouldn't have come."

Ashur froze. Head spinning from ambrosia.

Something was wrong. Critically wrong.

A sick realization crept through him. He had made a grave mistake.

"I—I'm sorry," he said quickly.

Alia exhaled sharply. Glanced back toward the estate. "You must never come back." The finality in her voice struck him harder than anything else that night.

He stepped closer.

"Alia, when can I see you again?"

She didn't answer. She didn't look at him. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked back inside.

The doors shut behind her. Sealing him out.

And for the first time since the factory, since the moment he pushed Julius out of harm's way,  Ashur understood. He had miscalculated. Badly. About Alia. About Haddin. About the sky gods. The variables were larger than anticipated. The risk field was far wider.

One core function had risen above the rest: help Alia.