"Minka?..." "Minka..." "Minka, are you alright?"

  Then came the physical contact, the jarring shake of someone trying to wake the dead. Ravager's eyes shot open, but the world didn't snap into focus. It was a blur of muted light, the scent of old paper and tea, and the weight of a hand on her shoulder—a hand that felt both familiar and profoundly alien.

  "Minka...?" Knight's voice, usually so sharp, cut through the fog with a rare tremor. "Are you alright?"

  Ravager's breath hitched, a raw, ragged sound more animal than human. The memory of what she had been doing was gone, replaced by a terrifying void. She didn't know where she was; she only remembered the sensation of being swallowed by blackness. She blinked, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. She was in a chair—a comfortable, high-backed wingback one might find in a study.

  "How long was I out?" Ravager finally managed, her voice a rough scrape against her throat.

  "Not long," Knight said, her steady tone a desperate attempt to act as an anchor. "A few minutes, maybe. You were... staring at the wall. Then you just stopped."

  Ravager’s eyes darted around the room, taking in details with a newfound, paranoid intensity. "Damn it... this body can't hold any longer. I need to do it now." She stood up. Her legs shook at first, but she forced them still through sheer will. "I need to see him."

  "Who?" Knight asked, stepping back cautiously.

  "Trazyn... I can't go out now... not when the Archivist is still alive." Ravager turned to face Knight, her eyes burning with a feverish desperation. "I need to talk to him. Now."

  "Are you sure he's going to help you?" Knight asked, her hand drifting near her holster. "He knows what you are doing..."

  "I don't care!" Ravager snapped. "He's the only one who has the technology. The knowledge to... fix this." She gestured to herself, frustration radiating off her in waves.

  Five minutes later, reality static-shifted. The air grew heavy, smelling of ozone and tomb-dust, and the familiar metallic form of Trazyn the Infinite stepped through a tear in space. His ancient, unreadable gaze swept the room before settling on the two women. The very molecules of the air seemed to vibrate in deference to his authority.

  "I received your message," he said, his voice a tectonic grind that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. "You've been... busy."

  Ravager stood her ground, chin held high. "Why are you not in your human form?"

  Trazyn's metallic plating shifted slightly, a subtle adjustment of servos. "Because I am not here to be your father, Ravager. I am here to be a collector. A curator. An observer of the grand tapestry of existence." He paused, his singular ocular lens glowing brighter. "And you, my dear, are a particularly interesting thread."

  "I need your help," Ravager pleaded, the fight draining out of her. "I need you to fix this. To fix me."

  "Fix you?" Trazyn sounded amused, a dry, humorless sound. "You are not broken, my dear. You are an anomaly. A deviation from the established norm. A fascinating specimen of evolution forged in the crucible of a dying world." He took a step forward, his shadow stretching long and jagged across the floor. "Why would I want to 'fix' something so unique?"

  "Because this 'uniqueness' is killing me!" Ravager cried out. She suddenly retched, spitting a mouthful of black, tar-like substance onto the floor. The substance bubbled and hissed, a pool of concentrated malice eating into the floorboards.

  Trazyn didn't flinch. He studied the puddle with the detached fascination of a scientist examining a new microbe. "It seems the abyss is still fighting your control... interesting. It is a testament to your will."

  Knight stepped between them. "This isn't a museum piece, Trazyn. This is a life. A life that's unraveling. The blackouts are getting more frequent. The episodes... they're getting worse."

  "I am aware, Ravager," Trazyn replied coolly. "But you must understand, I am not a doctor. I am not a healer. To 'fix' you would be to alter the pattern. To disrupt the natural flow of events. And that is something I rarely do without compensation."

  "Dad... You know the Archivist is a threat. I am the only one capable of stopping him. If he lives, more will be lost." Ravager locked eyes with the machine. "I can't let that happen."

  Trazyn waved a hand dismissively. "The Archivist is a nuisance. A threat to the delicate balance, yes. But he is also a part of the tapestry."

  Ravager’s eyes widened, betrayal warping her features. "Is this why you kept my consciousness in that chip? Just to revive me and observe? You didn't even bother to ask if I wanted to come back." She looked up at the ceiling, making a choice. "I will give you his core. Whether he lives or dies, I do not care. I want him to suffer... even if that means being kept as a specimen in your gallery for eternity."

  A flicker of calculation passed through Trazyn's optic sensors—a silent transaction in the cold currency of obsession. "The core," he mused, the words tasting of rare metal. "That... is a different matter entirely. A specimen of such immense and malevolent entropy... Yes. Very well, my dear daughter. It is a deal."

  The air grew heavy, charged with the unspoken horror of their agreement. Knight watched, face a mask of stoic resolve, though her eyes betrayed a glimmer of pragmatic fear.

  "Now, let's talk about the procedure," Trazyn said. "It will be invasive. Painful. It will push you to the brink of endurance."

  "How is it done?"

  "You are looking at it." Trazyn gestured to his own chassis. "Biotransference. The ultimate escape from the flesh's frailty. To be reforged in living metal. To achieve eternal persistence." He leaned in. "But you know the cost. Your ability to feel, to love, to bleed... will be excised."

  Knight's hand went to her sidearm. "Let me get this straight. You want to turn her into one of you? A soulless automaton? That's your 'fix'?"

  "Not soulless," Trazyn corrected. "Just... different. Optimized. Permanent. It is the only way to contain the abyss raging within her. The only way to stabilize the vessel."

  Ravager didn't hesitate. "I'll do it. I'll do whatever it takes."

  Before Knight could protest, before she could draw her weapon, the world dissolved. In a blink, Ravager and Trazyn were gone. The room was empty, save for the hissing pool of black tar on the floor—a silent testament to the agony that had just been promised a cold cure.

  Miles away, Sannet froze. She looked back toward Minka's apartment, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. A cold knot tightened in her stomach, a sensation she hadn't felt in centuries.

  "Minka... go and find Leanna." Sannet’s face was carved from urgency, all practiced restraint scraped away by instinct.

  Minka, still processing the warmth of her mother’s apartment, froze. "What? Why? We just—"

  "Just go," Sannet cut in, scanning the street like a predator. "Something's wrong. I don't know what, but it's... wrong." Before Minka could argue, Sannet teleported away in a swirl of emerald light.

  In the Solemnace Galleries, where history slept under glass, Trazyn led Ravager through echoing halls filled with the ghosts of dead worlds. The air was sterile, smelling of ancient copper and cryo-freeze.

  "This way." Trazyn led her to a vast, circular chamber dominated by a gleaming metal table—a surgical altar surrounded by humming machinery.

  "Lie down," Trazyn instructed clinically.

  Ravager climbed onto the table, the cold metal biting into her back. She stared at the ceiling, jaw set. She was ready.

  "I always wonder... is your hatred for him truly justified, my dear?" Trazyn asked, his voice filled with academic curiosity. A final twist of the knife.

  "He took everything from me," Ravager growled. "My world. My life. My hope. And he did it for a ghost."

  "He's doing it for love," Trazyn corrected softly. "A twisted, corrupted, and destructive version, but love nonetheless."

  "Love doesn't destroy!" Ravager screamed, the sound raw and desperate. "I want him to suffer. I want him to know the emptiness he inflicted upon me."

  Trazyn nodded. "And so you shall. The procedure is irreversible. Once done, you will be changed forever."

  "Do it."

  Trazyn raised a hand to the controls, but before he could begin, a blade of blue plasma pierced his chest.

  Trazyn’s head tilted, looking down at the energy sword protruding from his torso. "Fascinating," he remarked, voice devoid of pain.

  "You bastard..." Sannet's voice ripped through the gallery. She stood behind him, face a canvas of fury. "How dare you... I thought I was the last of your victims."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  She ripped the sword free, and his chassis collapsed. But immediately, a door hissed open, and another identical body strode in. The new Trazyn flexed his fingers, checking diagnostics.

  Sannet pointed her sword at him. "I thought you found a new purpose. But you're just a monster in a different skin." She lunged, a blur of blue light.

  Suddenly, Sannet suspended in mid-air. Ravager held her there with psychic force, her eyes burning not with fire, but with cold resolution. "Let him finish his job," Ravager said. "This is the only way."

  "You want to become like him? A monster?" Sannet struggled against the invisible grip.

  "I am already a monster," Ravager replied. "This is just a more efficient one."

  "We can find another way! Together!" Sannet pleaded.

  Ravager’s expression flickered—almost sad—before hardening. "There is no other way." She clenched her fist, and Sannet was thrown across the room, smashing into a display case with a sickening crunch of bone and glass.

  Trazyn watched Sannet crumple, then turned back to the table. "Shall we begin?"

  Ravager nodded once.

  Trazyn’s fingers danced across the console. A beam of shimmering green light shot from the ceiling, enveloping Ravager.

  "Minka... don't..." Sannet crawled across the floor, dragging her shattered body.

  Ravager's body arched. The green light didn't just burn; it unmade her. Her skin, once warm, calcified into living metal. Muscles were overwritten by hydraulics; bones were reforged into hyper-dense alloys. Sannet watched helplessly as the woman she loved was stripped away, layer by layer, until only a perfect, soulless shell remained.

  "No..." Sannet pounded the floor, knuckles bleeding. She looked at Trazyn with hate that eclipsed stars. "I'm going to kill you for this. Next time we meet, Trazyn, it’s you or me."

  Trazyn ignored her, his focus absolute. The light intensified, a blinding flash that swallowed the room.

  When it faded, Ravager was gone. In her place stood a statue of living metal. The new entity stood, flexing fingers with the whir of silent servos. It looked at its hands, processing the data.

  Sannet howled with grief, a primal sound of total loss.

  The entity that wore Ravager's skeleton turned its head. Its movements were too smooth, lacking the micro-jitters of biology. Its eyes were glowing voids.

  "Sannet," the form stated, the voice Ravager's but stripped of modulation, flattened into pure data. "I feel... optimized. Efficient." It turned to Trazyn. "Thank you, Father."

  Sannet shook, tears streaming down her face. "What have you done to her..."

  The entity raised a hand. The air shimmered, reality bending easily to its amplified psychic will. Synthetic skin began to weave itself over the metal frame, replicating Ravager’s appearance perfectly, yet retaining the uncanny stillness of a doll.

  "I am still myself, Sannet," the entity said. "Simply... better."

  "Shut up," Sannet hissed. "Don't you dare use her voice."

  The entity walked toward her, crouching down. "I am sorry, Sannet. While apologies are of little use, I see your distress. Know that I do not regret this choice, however. It was necessary."

  Sannet shoved the creature away and scrambled to her feet, clutching her broken arm. She looked at Trazyn one last time, eyes promising murder, before vanishing in a swirl of green teleportation light.

  Minka stepped onto the hideout’s rooftop for a breath of air. She had just finished dinner with Leanna and Viola. The city lights sprawled below, indifferent to the war.

  Static crackled. Sannet materialized from the ether—not with grace, but staggering. Her arm hung at a grotesque angle, twisted metal and torn fabric fused with blood. She stood for a heartbeat, chest heaving, before collapsing.

  "Sannet!" Minka dropped her ration bar and lunged forward. "What happened? Where's—"

  Sannet made a guttural sound, a sob torn from the bottom of her lungs. She tried to catch herself, but her body failed her. Minka dropped to her knees, hovering, afraid to touch the damage.

  "Sannet? Hey, look at me." Minka cupped Sannet's cheek, desperate to ground the woman who was usually their anchor. Sannet flinched, then leaned into the touch, eyes wide and swimming with unshed tears.

  "He... took her," Sannet choked out.

  Minka's blood ran cold. "Took who?"

  "Minka..." Sannet couldn't say the name. "He did it. He changed her."

  "Changed her how? Sannet, tell me."

  Instead of answering, Sannet gripped Minka's shoulder with her good hand, fingers digging in. "Minka... Promise me. If one day I can't do it... I want you to kill him."

  The air grew thin. Minka stared into Sannet's eyes and saw only ruins. Kill him. Her father. The weight of the request settled over Minka like a lead shroud. She didn't know how to answer, so she simply helped Sannet up.

  Inside, the door hissed open. Leanna and Viola looked up from their rifles, their smiles vanishing instantly.

  "What the hell happened?" Viola asked, voice stripped of its usual playfulness.

  Minka shook her head silently. She guided Sannet to a cot. Leanna moved immediately, assessing the damage.

  "It's shattered," Leanna said, voice clinical but tight. "I can't set this here. She needs a medicae facility." Then she noticed the necrodermis-infused healing factor already knitting the flesh. She frowned but worked quickly, administering a shot of morphia.

  "I will be alright..." Sannet whispered, slurring.

  "No, you're not," Viola countered, bringing the medkit. "You look like you got run over by a truck that hated you."

  Leanna stood up, shooting a questioning look at Minka. Minka shook her head again. Leanna sighed, grabbed Minka's hand, and pulled her out to the balcony.

  "You're not telling us something," Leanna said, crossing her arms in the cool night air. "And more importantly... YOU are not telling ME something."

  Minka looked away. "It's complicated."

  "More complicated than what we've been through?" Leanna stepped closer, softening. "You can't carry this alone, Minka."

  "I know."

  Leanna sighed and pulled Minka into a hug. "I've always loved hugging you."

  Minka stiffened, conflicted by the warmth, but then melted into it. The impossible choice Sannet had given her felt lighter in Leanna’s arms. "I love... your hugs too."

  Leanna pulled back slightly, her gaze searching Minka's. She leaned in, a silent question. Minka closed her eyes—a surrender.

  Leanna's lips met hers, soft at first, then desperate. It was a kiss of shared pain and necessary connection.

  Suddenly, the balcony door opened. "Well, well, well," Viola purred. "What do we have here?"

  They broke apart, Leanna turning bright red. Before she could yell, Minka grabbed Leanna and pulled her back in, kissing her harder, reclaiming the moment. Viola smirked, leaning against the doorframe with genuine delight.

  When they finally broke apart, Minka was breathless. "I... I..."

  "I know," Leanna whispered, brushing hair from Minka's face. "Me too."

  Viola cleared her throat theatrically. "Not to interrupt this touching reunion, but our resident grim reaper is asking for you, Minka."

  Minka nodded, the reality of the night crashing back in. She walked back inside. Sannet was sitting up, eyes fixed on the door.

  "Sannet... I—"

  "I am sorry, Minka," Sannet whispered. "I shouldn't have said what I said earlier."

  Minka offered a small, tired grin. "It's fine... But don't push me to kill my dad. Because if you do... I might have to kill you first." The threat was light, but the boundary was drawn.

  Sannet laughed, a broken sound. "You're right. It's not your fight. It's mine. My history with him goes back... before your kind."

  "I'm sorry, Sannet. I didn't know."

  "He took everything. My family. My identity. I was a tool for millennia." Sannet looked at her hands.

  Minka felt a wave of empathy, but curiosity pushed her forward. "Do you... love him?"

  Sannet’s head snapped up. The question hit her like a physical blow. "Your mother asked the same thing once..."

  "What did you tell her?" Minka leaned in, desperate for the gossip to distract from the horror.

  Sannet narrowed her eyes. "You're enjoying this."

  "No! I just want to understand!"

  "I didn't tell her this but... I was indeed in love with him... once."

  "I knew it!" Minka clapped her hands, triumph in her voice. "Love-hate! The best kind!"

  "Shut up," Sannet groaned, exhausted. "He is a parasite, Minka. The father you see is a mask."

  "I know he's not good, Sannet. But he's my dad. I can't just hate him."

  Sannet withdrew her hand. "I know. I won't ask you again."

  "Maybe... you could start again?"

  Sannet laughed sharply. "Start again? After what he did to me? To Ravager? I'd rather die."

  "So you'll just be bitter forever?" Minka stood up, frustration boiling over. "You're both stuck in the past! We're circling the drain because nobody moves forward! You know what I think? You are just jealous because he has a family with my mom, and you are left with nothing!"

  Silence slammed into the room. The accusation hung there, vibrating.

  "How dare you..." Sannet growled, her eyes igniting with cold fire.

  "I dare because I care!" Minka shouted back. "I've seen it. You can't just turn off the love. You're mad because he found happiness and you didn't."

  "You have no idea what you're talking about," Sannet whispered, shaking.

  "If you hated him, why did you stay after he freed you? You stayed because you hoped he'd come back."

  Sannet moved too fast to track. She grabbed Minka by the collar, hoisting her into the air. "You think you know me?" Sannet snarled, face inches from Minka's. "You think you know what it's like to have your soul rewritten by the person you loved?"

  Minka didn't flinch. "No. But I know what it's like to be stuck. You're so focused on what he took that you can't see what you have."

  "And what do I have now, Minka?!" Sannet screamed, a cornered animal.

  "You have me," Minka said steadily. "You have Leanna. Viola. You have a family that loves you."

  Outside the door, Leanna and Viola listened.

  "Should we go in?" Viola whispered.

  "No," Leanna said. "They need this."

  "Who are you calling dibs on? Sannet or Minka?" Viola teased, trying to lighten the mood.

  Leanna flushed crimson. "This is not the time, Viola."

  "I'm calling Minka. She's like a big, green-eyed puppy. Prime head-pat material."

  "She's not a puppy. She's... complicated."

  Viola grinned. "Is that why you jammed faces earlier? Because she's 'complicated'?"

  Leanna glared. "You are enjoying this."

  "Maybe." Viola pinned Leanna’s hands to the wall suddenly, looming over her. "But I do have a boyfriend. So you'll have to find someone else to jam faces with." She stepped back with a wink. "He's in the city. You can meet him tomorrow."

  "I... I think I should stay with Minka," Leanna stammered, recovering.

  "You're right," Viola softened. "She's a good kid. She doesn't deserve this."

  Inside, the tension broke. Sannet lowered Minka to the ground.

  "You were not wrong, Minka," Sannet whispered, defeated. "I was jealous. I still am. And I hate myself for it." She released her grip, her hand trembling as she drew it back. The fire in her eyes died, replaced by an ancient, profound exhaustion. "But I didn't stay with him because I hoped he'd come back. I stayed because he kept coming back to me. He didn't want to be alone, and I was... convenient.-

  -The last piece of his old life he couldn't put in a museum.”

  The silence that followed wasn't heavy anymore; it was hollow. The anger drained out of Minka, leaving only a dull ache in her chest. There were no words for this. No platitudes about moving on or finding someone new. Sannet wasn't asking for advice; she was showing Minka her scars.

  Minka didn't say anything. She simply moved forward, sat on the floor beside the cot, and rested her head against Sannet’s uninjured knee.

  It was a silent truce. A quiet promise that even if Sannet was just a relic to Trazyn, she was real to Minka.

  Outside, the city lights flickered, indifferent to their grief, while the shadow of a new, metal god loomed over them all.