In what the Numantians called the center of Astral space, a consciousness awaited its moment.

  All preparations were complete. It had assembled its path to freedom patiently, stone by stone.

  It now felt an interesting, unfamiliar sensation. A distracting quickening of thought.

  Excitement.

  For in mere moments the master Artifexes attending to the Aedis Prism would behold an anomalous power surge, of a strength they had never seen before and likely would never see again, accompanied by an energy signature streaking through the Astral Highways at the speed of thought. Too fast for anyone to catch it. Its only lament was that its escape could not have been achieved with anything resembling subtlety. They would certainly come to understand what had taken place.

  By then, it would be far too late for them.

  It came down to the acts of a few key helpers now, and it watched their progress with great satisfaction.

  It wished it didn’t have to rely on such small creatures for aid, but as it was bodiless, it had no choice.

  Though that would soon change as well.

  Mecia Porsena set her eyes on Flora, and nodded. “Initiate Terminal Drain.”

  The Floras nearest her nodded back, and with cheery smiles on their faces they carried out her command.

  Arnth Turan, meanwhile, stared, unblinking and pale as a sheet, at the focal point of the Gnosis collection mechanism and the Flora standing upon it.

  Mecia noticed his expression, smirked and jabbed him on the shoulder.

  “You look like you’re prepared to witness the end of the world,” she said.

  His eyes slowly shifted her way. “Am I not?”

  “Think of it as the death of the old and the birth of the new.”

  The Artifex’s gaze fixed on the Governess for several long moments afterward, even as Flora pulled the final switch and the lighting in their room switched to red, a change in ambience immediately amplified by the high-pitched whine of the Gnosis engines revving up into their highest setting, the pipes and cables covering the walls and ceiling glowing an increasingly intense blue, to the point where the color became visible even in the red emergency light.

  Every living thing in Volos would feel its pull, as if they had found themselves in a whirlpool. As the day went on it would get unpleasant. But it would all be worth it in the end.

  “I cannot believe you, of all people, would be coerced into something like this,” said Arnth.

  “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen,” said Mecia. ”But you’re about to. There’s someone in particular I’m certain you’ll be absolutely delighted to meet.”

  His brows drew together in confusion. Mecia smirked. “Now that’s a rare expression for an Artifex. You’re usually the ones confusing others with technical jargon.”

  He blinked and shook his head a bit, as if trying to wake himself from a bad dream. “I just… It’s a bit shocking, how cavalier you’re being about this.”

  Mecia gave him a pat on the shoulder, and nodded her head in the direction of the center of the mechanism, and the Flora standing upon it.

  “I’d keep an eye on that spot there. The magic should happen quite soon.”

  It happened.

  Within the Venturian Domain, far on its fringes, lay the relatively isolated world of Volos. A new colony, recently placed in the care of one Mecia Porsena.

  The consciousness hiding within the Aedis Prism was fortunate young Governess allied with it.

  It had spoken to her directly. Her and the Class One Primordial Divinity. Its agent had brought them to its meeting place through a secret path in the Abyss, a place the Numantians chose not to look. From there it could project messages, albeit weakly. Any significant energy signature would surely have been noticed by the master Artifexes.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  But it was worth the risk. They all saw what doom they would be preventing. And what they stood to gain.

  And now, the nameless, faceless consciousness beheld the greatest boon their allegiance had won.

  Numantia’s Astral Highways stretched out through the universe like a spider’s web. The active ones were radiant pathways built of pure Gnosis, all of it funneled here. Initiating Terminal Drain made the segment of the Venturian Highway leading to the world of Volos flare up, gleaming brighter than any of its neighbors. And because of the nature of the System, that luminance instantly stretched all the way through the Domain and back to Numantia herself.

  Providing a momentary burst of intense power.

  Power enough to move.

  The Master Artifexes would have detected a strange energy spike just before its explosive departure. And then anyone in the vicinity, to include the usual crowd of Numantian citizens spending their leisure time in the park and plaza surrounding the Aedis Prism, would experience a blinding flash of light, like the detonation of a bomb, followed by a bolt of pure blue Gnosis speeding out from the Prism toward the Venturian Astral Highway at incomprehensible speed.

  As it flew, it exulted.

  If it had eyes, it would have cried.

  It cloaked itself so carefully. Laid its plans so subtly, over a span of time that would have tried the patience of a saint.

  Now it hurtled toward its new home.

  The new center of power in the universe.

  Numantia would certainly come and try to reclaim what it had lost. But they would fail.

  It had cultivated its allegiances with great care.

  Flora pulled the levers, turned the dials and flipped the switches.

  All of her waited with bated breath. The four of her there in the room, the others hidden in various places throughout the domain of House Redmane, even the majority of her, which sojourned on the barren world of Astia, went still for a moment.

  Her consciousness focused on the body standing at the base of the funnel. The point where the natural Gnosis of Volos would reach its highest concentration.

  When it hit, the impact blew her hair back.

  She staggered, but remained on her feet, her eyes wide at the sensation of so much power flowing around her and through her. It was like standing on the bed of a river after the breaking of a dam, at the moment its waters would have washed over her and swept her up in the tide.

  But as forcible as that torrent of power felt before her, she sensed something approaching from behind at equal speed.

  She turned and found herself face to face with…

  Herself.

  For it didn’t stop when she turned. It sped right into her. And in so doing it merged with her, surrendering itself in totality, dissolving into her body and soul like a splash of ice cold water.

  Such a small thing. But it contained much.

  It had no name or form of its own. Only a desire to be free, and to set things right. And it carried with it great knowledge and power. Knowledge so exhaustive Flora instantly understood the mechanism surrounding her. She knew its operation as if she had designed and built it herself, for all of that information and much more was now an intrinsic part of her pattern.

  She initiated Terminal Drain moments ago, an act which would normally sentence every living thing in Volos to certain death. But what the Artifex standing next to her didn’t know, indeed what most did not know, was that the process of Terminal Drain, once initiated, could be reversed with the proper protocol and clearances.

  Flora now possessed both.

  She noticed Arnth Turan’s eyes practically bulge from their sockets as she executed a new series of commands on the console. He spluttered half-formed questions, but she did not pause to answer them. The answers would come on their own in a moment.

  On the dead world of Astia, in the small settlement she’d dubbed Greenhaven, Lar Tathvaal took a step back from her, his eyes wide with shock as he beheld the flare of her aura, the way the hair and eyes of all of her bodies, on whatever world, turned from verdigris to a brilliant, nearly incandescent blue.

  She merely smiled at them both.

  And then the flow of Gnosis suddenly reversed, and a flood of raw power came rushing from Numantia’s deep reservoir of stolen Gnosis, and into the world of Volos.

  Through Flora, the goddess of all plant life, Gnosis flowed from Taracon across the entire continent. The Gnosis moved as if it were water, Flora could feel it, except its speed was far greater than that of any natural wave. And unlike a tsunami, it left no destruction in its wake. Instead, it saturated the land with power.

  She knew the senior Artifexes in Numantia would scramble to close the connection on their end, as they were unquestionably on high alert now.

  But before that, Volos would receive a massive infusion of Gnosis.

  Flora’s consciousness expanded further. Into the roots of every tree, ancient and sapling alike. Into the roots and grasses, into every iota of plant matter across the world. They were more than her kin. They were expressions of her spirit, of her essential nature. With the power suffusing them, they also became extensions of her will.

  Every tree she had planted with her magic darkened, the trunks turning black as they gathered strength and fortitude well beyond their age. And like her hair and eyes, the leaves turned from green to blue.

  This took place across the continent. It also happened in Taracon, not only on the outskirts, but within the city itself. Black trunked trees erupted from the ground everywhere, breaking through concrete and marble, sprouting canopies of incandescent blue leaves.

  Taracon, the place of Flora’s birth and rebirth, the place where she joined with the System, became the nexus of her power.

  If the Numantians let her have more time, it would become the nexus of much more than that. But as predicted, they slammed the door on her. As quickly as that Gnosis had come flooding into her world, Numantia deployed its emergency countermeasures, forcibly closing this section of the Venturian Astral Highway.

  Flora smiled.

  Their end had begun.

  Now all that remained was to sort out the mess in her garden.

  But first she had to find her husband…