Chapter 1: A Beginning and an Ending

"It should be impossible to fold chakra inside a body, to increase its density and potency...yet, there are many, many recorded findings that indicate the Bloody Nine used this technique to devastating effect. We suspect the origin of his extraordinary find to be his beginnings as a student of the medical arts. It really is impossible for the average shinobi to manage a folded technique above A-rank even once (the drain is enormous)-but to do this multiple times? The damage in an area of effect is exponentially increased and I can't even tell you that the only way to survive a folded technique above A-Rank is to simply not be there when it goes off. Amiright?"

-Kokazaki Hayaba in a special lecture to Leaf Hunter-nin (1 Month Before Attack)

Today was a very important day in the life of Namikaze Naruto.

It was Graduation Day.

It was the day he'd finally be accepted onto a team and could apply to the Iryounin Program at Konoha Memorial. A massive shit-eating grin grew across his face as he thought of baa-chan's face when he told her the news. He'd been dreaming of this moment ever since...that day. He might've only been eleven years old, but today marked the first step along the path to achieving his goal. It was the first real, measurable progress he'd made since that day five years ago.

Genin Graduation was the first step of many to come. He'd given his word after all and he knew exactly what he wanted.

And exactly how to get it.

Hence him sprinting across the rooftop passageways like a mad-man, blurring past the other ninja sharing the space. His sandals pounded against the tiles as he ran full-tilt towards the Academy, pausing only to do an utterly ridiculous (but necessary so he didn't break his neck) side-flip onto a drain-pipe precariously dangling from a three-story apartment buildling. The Academy was only two minutes away when he finally shimmied to the bottom.

He made it through the doors of the classroom with only seconds to spare, huffing and puffing as he slid into his usual seat next to Kiba and Shikamaru.

"Hey Dobe."

He had to remind himself of how important this day was to...everything. It was a day that wouldn't-couldn't-be ruined even by the likes of...the likes of...

"Hey Naruto-midget-baka, are you listening to me?"

Her.

The son of the Hokage whipped around in his seat, directly at the front of the classroom, to glare venomously at the bane of his existence. It put him face-to-face with the dark features and smug smirk of the only person to consistently pick fights with him (and manage to break even on wins).

Sarada Uchiha, tied with him for Rookie of the Year, was the biggest pain in his ass that ever walked and swayed on two legs. A tick mark and a vein pulsed on his forehead.

"Shut the hell up ya flat-chested nag! Go drool over Kiba or something-" Here Kiba spluttered and waved his hands, frantically trying to kick himself out of the conversation, but Naruto continued, rolling over Kiba's splutters, "...stop bothering me! I'm trying to pay attention to Iruka-sensei!" As he yelled, spittle flying, he couldn't help but inhale her scent. Floral. Quite nice. But that wasn't important damnit!

He whipped back around, ignoring the sniggers of his friends, Kiba's eye rolls and Shikamaru's snoring next to him, and focused on what Iruka was saying about Graduation, "...and congratulations to you all on having passed the Shinobi Academy and become adults in the eyes of the village." He paused, as if doubting they really achieved adulthood as expected, and his eyes narrowed further, pinning each of them with his trademark stare as he paced in front of the large whiteboard behind him. Mizuki-sensei was lounging casually behind him making silly faces. A few of the girls were giggling behind their hands. Naruto had to roll his eyes.

"I expect each of you to conduct yourselves appropriately out in the field and in training with your Jonin-sensei. Remember-you now represent the Leaf in everything you do. Your actions and conduct MUST reflect our high-standards of excellence and the Will of Fire that burns in all of us." Here, Iruka looked down at the papers held loosely in his hands, separating them and calling out names. He ignored the sudden jostling coming from behind him and Kotachi's softly muttered, 'shannaro.'

What a weirdo.

"And now, I will announce the Rookie of the Year. This years award goes to..."

Total silence suffused the room. Then a large, obnoxious voice full of incredulity burst into the eardrums of everybody within a hundred feet.

It was very unpleasant for all involved.

"KOTACHI? I mean, are you freakin' kidding me? The pinkie is a total weirdo!"

Kiba and Shikamaru simply watched as their friend had a meltdown in his seat. They obviously weren't sure if he was upset because he was beat out, or because he was beat by Kotachi, who had the biggest, weirdest, most obvious crush on the young Uchiha girl.

From the fire burning steadily in the Uchiha's eyes and her glenched fists, Kotachi hadn't done himself any favors with the lady in question...

"SIT. DOWN. PAY ATTENTION! I will now announce the Team Assignments." Iruka was glaring daggers at the young Namikaze in particular. Naruto scrambled into his seat, knocking Shika's head off his arm and slamming his forehead into the oak table.

"Oops, so sorry Shika-not."

Shika just glared, but straightened and paid attention once he realized what was going on.

"Team 10 under Jonin-sensei Sarutobi Asuma will be Yamanaka Ino," there was a sharp, decidedly female intake of breath, "...Nara Shikamaru..." and an audible, disappointed exhale. "...and Akimichi Choji." Shikamaru simply devolved into muttering while Choji munched happily on some barbecue-flavored chips from a greasy bag.

"Team 8 under Jonin-sensei Yuuhi Kurenai will consist of Hyuuga Hinata, Aburame Shino, and Inuzaka Kiba." Naruto, once he realized what was about to happen to him, to his dream, slammed his fist into the table, denting the wood. Iruka studiously ignored the interruption as he proclaimed the young Namikaze's fate.

"Team 7 under Jonin-sensei Hatake Kakashi will consist of Haruno Kotachi, Namikaze Naruto, and Sarada Uchiha." Iruka motioned for all the newly-minted Genin to move into their team assignments, ignoring Naruto's mini-stroke, "Your Jonin-sensei will be by to pick you up shortly. Good luck to you all, Shinobi of Konohagakure. You have been a fine class. Oh! Don't forget to register with Human Resources AND don't forget the Genin Induction Ceremony tonight in the auditorium-YOU MUST wear your full dress-uniform. Dismissed!"

Namikaze Naruto didn't hear anything Iruka said or hear him leave as all he kept thinking was that he'd be stuck with his most hated rival and the biggest weirdo in his class for the next...

Naruto's eyes widened as he thought about it.

...it could be for a really, really long time.

Maybe forever.

Or until he died.

Oh kami.

A piercing, sugary voice cut through his morbid thoughts, "Oh Sarada, your eyes are like the heaven's above! Vast! Beautiful! Twinkling! Alight with stars! I could lose myself in them foreverrrr."

Maybe, Naruto mused, Sarada and him now had something in common. The meaty thwack of a perfectly executed back-fist accented the pain Naruto was feeling deep in his soul.

Naruto really hoped a missing-nin would just murder them and leave him in peace.

CE 2186: Sol System, Earth, New York City::Citadel, Geosynchronous Orbit

When Emily Sheppard awoke, her face was pressed into a bloody puddle, and her whole body was wreathed in pain.

The last thing she remembered was watching that asshole Harbinger crouch over her team like a hungry spider, the eerie red glow of its main cannon blanketing the area with maroon light and as it did, she knew her death wasn't far behind.

When it fired, and she could just image the glee (if a millennia's old machine intelligence could be said to be gleeful) at eliminating a thorn like Shepard, the colossal blast struck her and her team dead-center. The plasma whitewash from the blast blinded her, hit her kinetic armor and multiple biotic barriers like a starship at ramming speed, and bowled her over, tearing her apart.

Her last thought was as stupid as it was frivolous: Huh, I forgot to shave my legs this morning.

But when she woke, hairy legs were the last thing on her mind...because her dead team-Ashley, Garrus-was strewn around her and all she could think about was the miracle of it all-that she herself still wasn't dead. Emily knew she'd break down if she stopped now.

She could only give a grim grin and imagine how pissed Harbinger must have been that he failed.

Armed with only a pistol, a limp, and sheer willpower, Emily Shepard managed to shoot her way through a few more husks and a single Marauder that stood in between her and her objective. They didn't have a chance, not while she was this close. She made it after a painful limping marathon and stepped into the zero-point tachyon beam that would take her up into the Citadel to finish the job.

As she traveled, she reflected on the fact that everyone else was dead.

She knew that.

She was at the epicenter of the blast and was somehow still alive, but everyone else was spread out around her...all she saw was dust and bones and very identifiable armor pieces. It hurt, in a way only splinters can; aching and throbbing under your skin until you hurt yourself trying to get it out. It felt like someone ripped a hole in her chest and planted a foot-long splinter in her heart.

She'd continue...but only so they didn't die for nothing.

Her last hurrah as it were. Emily Shepard fully expected to die at the end of this.

The beam blasted her out into a dark corridor unexpectedly. In the tumble, she whacked her head so hard she went dark for a minute. But eventually sheer stubbornness made Emily sit up again and ignore the pain. It was harder to ignore the dead corpses of Keepers and humans, the rivulets of blood trickling down gentle grooves along the side of the walkways and into some kind of ancient machinery, the corpses of people stacked like so many logs of firewood.

A mic crackled. "Shepard!"

The voice was familiar. It was Anderson. "You up here too Anderson?" Speaking was difficult.

A lance of pain ripped through her side and her leg as she stepped forward, collapsing her to one knee. She let out a short, muffled scream. Anderson heard her.

"You okay Shepard? How are you feeling?"

Emily couldn't help but laugh through gritted teeth. "I feel like I could dance a fucking tango Anderson. How do you think I feel? Harbinger just took his best damn shot at me and somehow missed. Bet it's pissed." Emily could almost hear Anderson's tired grin through the sub-vocal mic. "You'll have to pay him back when we make it out of here. Where are you? Are you good to go?"

Emily paused and really took in her surroundings. There were...a lot of bodies. She'd seen some horrible things in her life-blood and guts and other unmentionables, but this took the cake. Bile rose in the back of her throat. She pushed it down and ignored the strengthening smell. "Yeah I'm good to go. As for where I am? I'm in a long, dark corridor filled with bodies Anderson, both Keeper and human. Real fucking yellow brick road of them. I'll follow it and see where it leads."

"That sounds familiar-like your description of the Collector base. As for me, I'm in a dark hallway as well...figures. Think they could be making a Reaper in here?"

Emily's gaze hardened as she continued to stagger forward. It made a sick sense. This...well, this could be a temporary processing center for all of Earth's dead. This was a mausoleum and soon to be museum of Earth's honored dead. And if she had her way these would be the last casualties of the Reaper War.

"Anderson I think that makes too much sense to be wrong. This seems to be a processing center for those humans they've rounded up on Earth. They beam 'em up here and turn them into grey goo."

Shepard could fairly hear the grimace Anderson was no doubt making. She understood. She felt the same. But Emily, like Anderson, only used that as fuel on the fire.

She had enough with small talk.

"Anderson, I'll be there soon. Meet you somewhere up ahead?"

"Right. See you soon Shepard."

Emily cut communications and proceeded forward. As she walked, she thought about all they'd accomplished so far...and it wasn't much. She'd failed the quarians, failed Legion and the Geth. Emily had failed to stop the Turians and Salarians going behind her back to freeze out the Krogan...the decision was left to her, but it didn't stop the salarians from having a failsafe plan. It didn't matter that Emily had shed so much blood on behalf of all the races, it didn't matter that she'd done everything they'd asked.

Nothing seemed to matter.

It had all started going downhill after that shuttle blew on Earth in what seemed to be only a few days ago. In reality it was more like months...

She watched that child die over and over again in her head.

Emily still felt the cold sweat that covered her and her twisted sheets every time she woke in the night. Every night, without fail. How much more could a person take? If they didn't have the Crucible...well, she didn't know if she'd have had the heart to stick around. She'd have gone out guns blazing. That's the girl her mother raised her to be. A fighter.

No. She remembered her mom drying her tears and working her ass off to provide for her. Sure, there were a few bumps in the road... Emily remembered the bullies in school, her early biotic outbursts. It was hard, but they got through it together.

It's funny how even in dire situations everyone still wants their mommy. Too bad her mom would have, in all likelihood, died with the others on Earth. She was never one to shy from confrontation. Emily supposed she inherited that.

Two more steps took Shepard to the edges of a ramp that had shadows pulsing at the end of the light stair. It was obvious that the control room was up ahead. Her pointless musings had taken her all the way to her destination without her knowing.

It was almost over.

That thought brought relief and a good deal of pain. What would she do when this was all over? Help rebuild? What would the Galactic Hero Emily Shepard be without a cause to fight for? She had no romantic prospects to speak of; Kaiden was dead and gone. Had been for awhile. That relationship never even was able to get off the ground. Her regrets, like the body count, were numerous. As it was, all she'd managed to accomplish was miraculous. The various fleets were skeletal at best-all she could scrounge up in support. Liara and her team barely completed the Crucible in time for the Reapers final push.

She had few allies and Cerberus was strong. Stronger than she gave them credit for. This was the worst possible scenario she could envision. Was it her choices? Had she made the right ones? Sparing people when she should have been merciless? Been merciless when she should've been compassionate? Flexible and weak when she should've stood firm by what she believed?

She still remembered the look of rage on Wrex's face when he found out what she'd let happen. It wasn't her fault...but it was, really. To him at least the burden lay on her shoulders, and that's what mattered to her.

Her steps echoed off the ramp into the wide chamber. She limped up the ramp and stepped into the light of the Crucible's mainframe, a circular room dotted with pulsing blue lights and metallic yellow striations running the vertically up the center chamber. A single computer terminal stood at the far end of the chamber overlooking pulsing power lines and the wide-open core of the weapon. Anderson, one of her best friends and mentors, stood on shaky legs with knees bent slightly, wobbling. He used the terminal to stand, one hand braced. He wasn't facing her and it was obvious he heard her echoing footsteps...so why wasn't he turning around?

Something was wrong.

Cautiously, slowly, she limped forward, intense green eyes trained on the back of his neck. Sticky blood smeared it and stuck to the hairs like paste. When she got close enough, she called out to him.

"Anderson!"

When he turned around, if you can call his lumbering marionette-like lurching 'turning', Emily saw terrible fear in his eyes. They rolled like a spooked animal. He croaked out her name as he stumbled forward, palms up, robotic.

"Shepard, I can't...!"

His teeth ground together and his whole face contorted. Light footsteps sounded behind her, but it was if she was frozen in a block of ice-she suddenly couldn't turn. Emily was afraid, afraid of what she'd face if she turned around and saw what was coming. She shoved it down deep and struggled with the force holding her. She activated the powerful, surging force within her; her biotic amps hummed with power-they burned with enough power to rip apart a Mako-but nothing happened.

It wasn't biotics that held her.

A new voice rang out and she knew it very well.

"I underestimated you Shepard."

She could only watch as a hideous abomination wearing the skin and suit of the Illusive Man strolled by her like this was a fucking picnic. Predictably, the leader of Cerberus wore a suit that most likely cost more than she made as a Marine Commander in a year.

It was all she could do to make her mouth move even the little bit it took to say, "What have you-"

He interrupted her easily, spinning around and pinning her with one horrible electric blue eye. She could almost feel Harbinger looking out at her from its mad center. Black wisps drifted off the side of his grey-skinned, reaper-tech ravaged face.

Ash drifted and it was his Humanity floating away on the breeze.

"I warned you. I tried to tell you, to reason with you while we still trusted one another; control is the means to survival." He was a self-righteous piece of work. He sounded so smug, so sure, but Emily didn't doubt for a second that the path he took was entirely unfeasible-and he was already lost.

Control the reapers? Preposterous.

"Control of the reapers...and of you, if necessary."

Anderson looked like he was being crucified right in front of her. His back was forced upwards, ramrod straight, his arms flopped and straightened like he was being forced erect; his eyes went wide with pain. He spoke with difficulty, spitting out each fragment of cold, hard truth. "They're...controlling...you."

It was obvious to Emily that the Illusive Man didn't understand. She had to make him see; see the foolishness of flying too close to the sun.

"Controlling me is a lot different than controlling the reapers!"

Her words had no effect. In fact, they seemed to reassure him more than anything. He placed on hand on his face, as if amused at her words.

"Have a little...faith, Shepard."

He turned and spoke, like a preacher at his pulpit, as he walked to the edge of the platform. She watched, helpless, as the man stared out into the weapon that would save them all-or damn them.

"When humanity first discovered the mass relays...when we learned there was more to the galaxy then we imagined...there were some who were scared, thought the relays should be destroyed."

Emily watched his face contort, lines of anger etched in his increasingly husk-like visage.

"They were scared of what we'd find! Terrified of what we could let in!"

Pride ran like a vein through his words.

"But look what humanity has achieved here; since that discovery humanity has advanced more than the past 10,000 years combined!" He stopped near his two hostages, looking at Anderson and Emily in turn. Creepy blue eyes, a blue so cold and artificial it reminded her of chips of ice hewn from an iceberg, danced with the light of madness in them. He stared straight into Emily's eyes.

She tried not to flinch.

"And the Reapers will do the same for us again. A thousand-fold-but..."

Here he gestured. Emily's arm began to raise, a pistol clutched in her bloody grasp. She struggled, but couldn't halt her arms upward swing.

"...only if we harness their ability to control."

Anderson started to fight, hard, and sweat broke out all over his body.

Terror was clear in him, but Anderson's voice didn't waver in the slightest as he spoke, "Bullshit. It's them or us."

The Illusive Man turned and yelled a foot from Anderson's face, "And waste this opportunity? Never!"

They had to get through to him here, now, before the whole fleet was wiped out...and Earth soon to follow. They couldn't allow that...but the only way to save everyone was to do something, anything, to talk him down. She said the only words that came to mind.

"You're playing with things you don't understand Jack. With powers you shouldn't be able to use." The only glimmer of hesitation, of doubt, she'd seen crossed the Illusive Man's face.

"I...I don't believe that. If we can control it, why shouldn't it be ours?"

"Because we're not ready, Jack. We're just not." He looked shocked, then angry. His declaration was soft at first, then got progressively angrier and loud, "No, this is the way that humanity must evolve. It must!"

Anderson chimed in, quiet, sure. "There is always another way. Always." The Illusive Man's reaper-ravaged face contorted, "I've dedicated my life to understanding the Reapers, and I know with certainty: the Crucible will allow me to control them."

Emily struggled against his control, then bit out, "And then what?"

The Illusive Man's countenance shifted, his face bloomed into a rictus. A smile of pure madness, of a man convinced of his own righteous certainty-of Godhood. That smile was all she needed. She didn't need to feel the dread or the pit in her stomach opening up to tell that he was all gone.

"Look at the power they wield!"

Blue light coalesced in his mad hands. Black wisps floated like ash around them.

Jack Harper smiled at her. "Look at what they can do!"

Emily's hand and finger contracted, spasmed, pulling the trigger on her Carnifex.

A shot rang out.

Anderson rocked backwards, held in place in the air. Inside, Emily flinched, horrified, but she pushed it away. They only had one more chance to get out of here alive. "All I see here is what they've done to you."

The Illusive Man deflated, looking angry at her again for her impertinence. "I took what I want from them. I made it my own. This isn't about me or you. It's about things so much bigger than all of us." The man, if you could call him that anymore, spun and open his arms wide-accepting, welcoming the death that was sure to follow. Anderson's tired voice, still strong despite his pain, rang out, "Don't listen to him Shepard. He's wrong. Wrong on so many levels."

The thing once known as Jack Harper smirked, "And who will you listen to Shepard? An old soldier, stuck in his ways, only able to see the world down the barrel of his gun?"

Emily snapped back, "If we destroy the Reapers...this ends today! But if you can't control them..."

The Illusive Man looked desperate, imploring, and utterly deranged. "But I can! I can control them Shepard!"

"Are you willing to bet humanity's existence on it?"

That simple sentence seemed to unravel him like a spool of thread. "I...I know it will work." He grimaced, metal stretching his face, hands contorting, stretching. He shook his head repeatedly, over and over again, repeating the same phrase. It will work. It will work. They are mine. Mine. Mine.

All that was left for him was pity, in Emily's heart. She had admired his craftiness, his pragmatism-once considered him a possible ally-but that was all dust. All he was... was a husk. "You can't, can you? They won't let you do it." He regained himself at that, backed up towards the console. The Reapers plaything pointed his finger that them both, Anderson still held in place, "No! I'm in control. No one is telling me what to do..."

Anderson spoke through labored breathing. "Listen...to yourself. You..." He coughed, spitting blood up on to the front of his uniform. "You're indoctrinated...just like Saren!"

But the Illusive Man was having none of their words. "No. No! The two of you, so self-righteous. Do you think power like this comes easy? There are sacrifices! Always sacrifices..."

She pointed the gun. "You sacrificed too much." She watched him pace.

"Shepard, I...I only wanted to protect humanity! The Crucible can control them. I know it can. I just..."

"Let us go. It's not too late. I promise, together we'll defeat them. Let us go-and we'll do the rest."

Silence reigned in the chamber. "I..."

Emily was sure he'd overcome the indoctrination. If anyone could do it, it was him. Maybe they'd come through this mess-with his help. But his next statement proved her worst fears.

"I...I can't do that, Commander."

The indoctrinated leader of Cerberus walked over, settling behind Anderson. "Of course you can't." Anderson coughed. "They own you now." Anderson felt a hand reaching for his service pistol. He heard Jack Harper speaking from behind him. "You'd...you'd undo everything I've accomplished. I won't let that happen."

Emily stepped opposite the suited man, facing him as if the two were in some old western movie-a standoff to save the galaxy from oblivion. Emily's palms were wet with perspiration and she struggled to fight-to fight with the only weapon she had short of her pistol, "Because of you, humanity is already undone."

He looked genuinely upset with her. It was a strange dichotomy, to see someone so undone, so righteous, about something that was so clearly wrong. It unnerved her more than any gunfight or battle she'd been in. He was so sure...so sure of this fact she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was absolutely wrong.

"That's not true!"

But she saw he was off-balance. She hammered the point home. He NEEDED to understand.

"They have the Citadel! They've got us fighting each other instead of fighting them!" He was frantic, pacing, holding his head. "You're done exactly what they Reapers wanted! You're STILL doing it because they control you, not the other way around, you idiot!"

"I..."

She saw him trembling, holding the pistol up to the side of his head. She felt a savage sort of satisfaction and a powerful sorrow.

"I...they're too strong. Shepard, I..."

"You're stronger! Don't let them win. Break their hold. Don't let them control you Jack. We'll find another way to end the cycle!"

But she saw then, as his movements steadied; from erratic to calm, that it was no use.

"I tried Shepard."

Emily's heart hardened for what was about to happen. She steeled her nerves. The Illusive Man stepped forward, dug the gun into his temple, skin folding together in waves around the barrel of the pistol, and fired.

The slug detonated against his temple. Blood, bone and brain flew sideways like chunky paint. The once-greatest champion of humanity died an ignominious death amongst the ruins of what he had tried so hard to save, a victim of the pointlessness of the universe.

And Anderson collapsed.

Sometime later, Anderson died from the shock of his wounds.

She'd managed to say her proper goodbyes though, it wasn't a long process. Anderson and Emily Shepard had a long history together and he was somebody that she always admired for his integrity and charisma. He was the original N7; a shining paragon for them all. Emily met him shortly before enrolling full-time in the Alliance military, after all. It was the lowest, most desperately unhappy time of her life.

She was young, seventeen at the time, and had just gone through the now-infamous Batarian-led slaughter on Mindoir, a farming colony in the Attican Traverse. She'd watched her mother and father and little brother die in an instant, headless and slopped in their own blood, Batarian Heavy Shock Troopers-Brawlers no less-striding through her family home as if they owned it. Slavers, she'd found out later.

She'd only narrowly escaped, utilizing her fledgling and not-inconsiderable biotic talent, and was saved by a passing Alliance Patrol. The Alliance hadn't been strong enough to retake the colony until reinforcements arrived, held as it was in the iron grip of heavily-armored Batarian Slaughter-squads, but Emily had left already on the first shuttle to Arcturus with the rest of the meagre survivors.

She'd never forget the metallic scent of blood, or the dirty misery of the cramped refugee shuttle.

It was an easy choice after that, joining the Alliance, with no one to care if she lived or died. She'd wanted to protect all the other Mindoirs out there, save the other baby brothers, the mothers and the fathers. Up until this point, she'd thought she'd done a rather good job.

After sitting in a cramped, make-shift shelters in hangers for days on end, she'd finally worked up the courage and asked the nearest marine where to sign. She'd been fitted with L3's a short time later and was off to Earth for basic.

It made her sad to think the man she'd thought of as a surrogate father was gone as it was so pointless a waste. She'd only found that part out after he passed on, however. After he died, Emily had entered a kind of pseudo-unconsciousness, curled up in front of the blood-splattered dais. She was, unfortunately, awake and aware enough to dwell on things and as far as she was concerned, she'd decided-in the twenty minutes she'd spent drifting in and out, that she had failed the universe utterly. Twenty minutes before, she'd activated the arms and watched with baited breath as they'd opened-just like they'd planned-and then...

Nothing.

The fleet was doomed, no doubt frantically hailing her, attempting to figure out what went wrong while fighting a lose rear-guard action. But, the simple fact was that she tried her best. She'd activated the panel, done everything as she'd been precisely coached by Liara and the science team...but it hadn't been enough.

And wasn't that the story of her life?

Emily had started her history of failures early; failing to save her mother, then progressing from there. She'd failed her team on Akuze, failed Kaiden on Virmire, failed Orianna and Miranda, failed Wrex and his people, failed Mordin...failed Jacob, and the list went on: friends' died, planets died, now civilization would be next.

Did it all even matter anymore?

This was it. This was the end.

Emily Sheppard wasn't even sure why she was fighting anymore.

Oh, she knew why she started fighting-that was easy. She fought to protect people who couldn't protect themselves. It was the easiest decision she'd ever made. When she was younger, she had always been picked on by a select few assholes-typically boys or men-who felt threatened, either by her looks or her abilities, who attempted to keep her down. Emotional abuse, physical abuse-you name it and she experienced it (though not sexual abuse, but not for lack of trying). High school was the worst time for her...and things came to a head when she finally stood up for herself, beating the ever-loving shit out of her main tormentor. But oddly enough, it took him picking on a young freshman girl-a new victim no doubt-for her to react.

And boy did she.

Three screws, two pins, eighteen stitches, and a month in the hospital had him getting off lightly.

Coincidentally, it was the first time she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she had biotic abilities-and not small ones either.

Fast forward a couple decades and she was still protecting the fresh victims of bullies who got too big for their britches, only these bullies felt entitled to harvest the galaxy of all organic life. She'd certainly graduated in that department.

But queue the confusion because life had only gotten more confusing after high-school-life wasn't so simple, so cut-and-dry, as the strong protecting the weak. No, failure was very real and very possible even when you believed yourself in the right. She had a litany of those failures that piled up until she felt paralyzed; like acting itself was fraught with its own difficulties. And the worst thing about a war of extinction was that being a martyr was never an option; there would be no one to pick up the torch after you. You failed here, and everyone died.

Just like that.

And she was so tired of failing.

Emily's bright green eyes, fading as she lay slumped, followed the rivulets of her and Anderson's blood as it mingled and traveled across the metal floor. Silently, she made a promise to herself...she wanted one more chance. If she got out of this, and got her chance, she wouldn't fail anybody ever again. She'd do things differently, she wouldn't pull any punches. She'd follow her gut from the very beginning, listening only to the voice in her heart-not the scheming voices that were so plentiful around her. But that was her last thought before she fell into a black void. At the very last second, light flashed across her eyes and consumed the room. Underneath her she felt vague movement, a smooth upwards motion, then...nothing.

Only moments passed, but when she woke, she absolutely couldn't believe her eyes.

The battle was still raging furiously. Tears welled in her bruised and battered face as she watched two struggling Alliance cruisers finally blast a Sovereign-class to scrap. The vast blackness above her was filled to the brim with battling ships of Alliance, Asari, and Salarian design contrasting sharply with the alien Reapers sleek squid-look. They existed in absolute silence above her despite the chaotic maelstrom of war. Long catwalks of silver metal spread out beneath her feet and it was where her eyes naturally followed, arriving at a glowing pillar, a thousand-thousand feet high, jettisoning pulsing bluish energy into space. Emily had no idea where she was, but this was obviously a planned section of the weapon. Everything was crafted just so-how had Liara missed this in her assessment?

In the end, she took the leap of faith and followed the middle catwalk to its end where a glowing ethereal...something...awaited her.

It was the child that died.

The child that haunted her dreams, night after night.

The child that left her twisted up in her bed-sheets and torn up inside about the choices she'd made-about the pile of failures pinned to her name. As she arrived, stumbling to a stop, she thought maybe she hadn't failed everyone just yet.

"Hello Shepard."

She listened as the child spoke, her hopes dying with its words as she finally understood the endgame. Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"What do you mean I have to choose?"

The self-proclaimed Intelligence that guided the Reapers horrific genocides simple stared coolly at her, eyes lidded, watching her attempt to process the impossible.

I have to choose? What kind of bullshit is this?

Choose amongst these options? These horrible, impossible options? None of these choices even make any sense.

What good was choice when all our choices had been made for us since the beginning of memory itself? This was, at best, a thought experiment for beings so far above humanity that it beggared belief...what meaning was there to be found in that?

Even if she believed she could control the god-like horrors that were the Reapers, down that path lay madness...it wasn't a fix to the problem. It seemed like nobody even knew what the real problem actually was-and the Intelligence wasn't telling. As it stood, however, there would always be a cycle of rebellion, of misunderstanding and frustration.

But wasn't that so very ironically human?

To blend the two...well, to Shepard this didn't seem remotely feasible either. Would all organic and all synthetic be born like this? Was birth even a condition anymore for life? It didn't seem possible to erase the fundamental origin of organic life this way...and it only applied to life that was born from their tiny sector of the galaxy. What about synthetics created millions of billions of light-years away? How about organics for that matter-created organics?

No, it didn't make sense. Too many variables and questions.

They needed to learn from each other, to grow, to learn empathy. She couldn't choose to destroy them as that would deprive them of their choices. And she couldn't destroy technology in general as that would set humanity-and everyone else-back hundreds of years...crippling the Golden Age they enjoyed.

Who was she kidding though? We were already crippled.

Bottom line is that she couldn't believe she was even being asked to make this choice, this choice for everyone! What right did she even have to decide everyone's fate? Me, Emily Shepard, the one who has failed more people in her life than she cared to remember...

I can't. I just can't.

The Intelligence stood watching her hyperventilation and subsequent panic attack.

It was too big, too fast.

It looked as if it saw through her, down to her very self-saw the choices she'd made in her life and found her lacking. It was judging her with those ethereal, glowing eyes. She was watching him closely, panicking, and so she was looking at him when its eyes widened in alarm. The glowing child's head whipped around, staring off into space, away from the battle taking place in wide-angled action in front of them.

Emily had to squint hard to see what it was looking at-and there! A rippling purple pinpoint rapidly widened in the distance, beyond Mars and beyond Earth, looking so much like the opening of a mass relay. It looked like a nebula, a burning corona of stars, rushing at them and opening, unfolding like a flower. She could barely make out the shocked whisper of the Crucible intelligence.

"No...surely they wouldn't be so foolish. Are they truly so desperate?"

But the rippling corona suffused her and it, cutting off the Intelligence mid-word. Everything went still, eerily still, on top of the utter vacuum silence of space. Frozen. Emily turned her head and looked around. Her hair, the color of blood and with a substantial amount of the actual substance clumped in it-still matted and untamed-fell across her face as she attempted to process what was happening. She brushed it away and turned, curious and trying to keep down a growing excitement. The glowing child stared at her with an intensity that made him utterly frightening-like watching a harmless cat turn into a massive starving lion.

It was like watching lightning in a bottle rattle it's tiny, flimsy glass cage.

So of course she couldn't resist.

"A wise man told me there is always another way...looks like something's happening you never expected, huh?"

The previously white swirling, glowing spirit turned a fiery shade of red.

Emily hadn't the faintest clue what was happening, but all she knew was that she didn't have to make a choice just yet. Tiny bolts of jagged red lightning came off the spirit as it spoke.

"Organics are so hard to understand...hope is completely ridiculous and illogical. You do the same thing over and over again...and isn't that the definition of insanity? Face it: hoping for a better future when you know for a fact that things won't get better is as stupid as believing there is some bearded man in the sky waiting to save all of you at the end, to let you in beyond the pearly gates."

If a spirit could snort in disgust, this was as close as she was going to get to seeing it. "Cold, hard fact is the stuff of synthetics...and frankly, we are better suited to be the Gods of man than some fictional character like the God in the Books."

It turned and faced her, drawing its five foot frame up as much as it could.

"You are now doomed to see all of this-" Here he gestured with one arm at the carnage in space, "-again. To watch your friends die-again. To fail-again." It eyed her with utter contempt, like a bug-collector debating the best place to pin her wings to the corkboard. "Congratulations, you have some allies who became very, very desperate and the simple fact is that they believe what they do will save you...present you with a fourth option here, in front of me. But it may very well turn this war in my favor...and ultimately prove me right about everything. The fact of the matter is that you have no significance whatsoever in the greater universe. You crawl, you walk, you talk, you breathe-but it matters not. Your destinies have been shaped by us, by beings greater than your tiny minds can imagine, for so many millions of years that I'm surprised you still struggle. Still rage at us. You are ants moving and working and doing the things you think bring meaning to your life...when the only meaning you derive is the meaning we give you."

The angry spirit turned and started to float towards the unmoving energy beam.

"I no longer believe the Crucible, or the cycle of Harvesting, to be the correct path however...but now...well, my hand is forced. I have to aid them in resetting the clock, so to speak. In eons of life, I have never discovered any possible solution to balance the scales sufficiently enough to save organics from the pain of total oblivion-or stop their foolish exploitation of dark energy, or stop any of you from doing imbecilic things that organics ultimately do. It will now be on your head Emily Shepard. I pass my burden to you, for all time and rest my hopes for salvation on your ability to change organics and synthetics for the better, to bring meaning to your presence in the universe. I cannot even believe I'm saying this...but you must search for the truth amongst the ruins, amongst the hate and the pain and the detritus of life."

Icy contempt froze every line that he spoke.

"Go. Shepard your people to your inevitable failure."

Emily didn't even have time to be pissed at his lack of faith.

Blinding light lanced through her eye sockets, burning her retinas as the ghostly apparition connected with the energy. The rippling purple energy blasting through space started moving again and sped onward, outwards, engulfing the beam of light, turning it a violent maroon color. Pieces of stuff started drifting off the energy beam like an unraveling puzzle leaving pure nothingness in its wake. It was surreal. Were those pieces of reality? Shepard felt herself disintegrating as the destruction started to spread: up her legs, her arms, her chest, pieces of herself falling.

Emily watched as the Alliance fleets were consumed by a miasma of purple light. Everything stilled, but reality continued to flake off, and the same black consumption took over her last view of Earth...an Earth on fire. A thought occurred to her, as her body melted.

Does this count as a failure too?

A foreign thought invaded her mind, so strong, so vast, so powerful...she knew it well. A Leviathan.

No Shepard, you haven't failed. Where you're going...you haven't even begun.

YOU MUST REMEMBER-Emily couldn't hear, couldn't function-OUR GIFT IS THE BLOODY NINE, USE THEM, USE HIM-

-what?

And then there was nothing.

CE 2171: Systems Alliance Farming Colony Mindoir, Attican Traverse

REMEMBER THE NINE-

Seventeen-year old Emily Shepard awoke with a gasp, her whole body rocking forward.

Sweat poured off her, sticking her sleep shirt to the undersides of her bare chest. The Band, a narrow strip of flat land on the main continent of Mindoir (a place that everyone knew was the best for growing all kinds of staple crops) was known for heatwaves, but her room always sat at a comfortable 72.

She shivered.

For a second there, in that strange and horrible dream, she felt the most powerful panic she'd ever known. Enough to get her going like she was running the mile and alongside it was a panic that tore at her mind; more than oversleeping and missing a test, or being left out at lunch or missing a planting season. It felt...like life or death hung in the balance.

Her dream had the same kind of visceral panic.

It felt like the whole world rode on her doing-what was it?-something. Emily struggled to pull the threads of her dream back. It felt like sand drifting through her fingers. She had to remember something, she knew-but what?

Her gaze drifted around her room as she strained to remember.

Her room was covered in models of starships and homework, per usual; something her VI Alice always scolded her about whenever she was in there. She didn't even need her mom to nag her about it as Alice saw to that with admirable realism. The worst part was she was always so nice about it too, which made it even worse when Emily inevitably snapped at it to leave her alone. The whole ordeal was like kicking a puppy for dragging you out of a burning building.

Er, that was a little extreme, but it was close.

It was just...well, it was hard to think about cleaning when she had so much homework; she was taking the advanced curriculum designed to get her out of high school early. She wanted to head into the Navy to fly starships all over the place and Naval Officer Candidacy depended heavily on her score on the University UABT's, the minimum score of which to enter the Alliance OCS was rather high. Quantum physics wasn't easy and neither was xenobiology or studying twenty-first century literature-which was tough too in its own way. Or Astro-navigation for that matter.

Who knew Robert Jordan hid so much in his works?

On top of it all, her newest model starship had just come in last night; an Asari dreadnought named The Pride of Thessia. The sweeping lines and compact designs were so cool...but so fucking hard to get just right with the adhesion tool. It kept her up way longer than it should've. It was really no wonder she was having dreams about fleets of ships battling above the Earth.

Regardless, there was something to that dream...something real.

She kept coming back to it despite their being something singularly horrible about the whole thing. There was something to do with her. Something important. Maybe this was just puberty though? She had to laugh. That definitely wasn't it-but she had to admit there was enough angst embedded in there to satisfy any self-respecting teenager.

Being seventeen and living with a natural scientist made the transition from girlhood to womanhood so much worse than it should've been. Her mom, being the studious scientist farmer she was, had cleared her day schedule and set up a whole interactive workshop using VI on the in's and out's of puberty as a girl (that was the first half of the day) and the birds and the bees as the second half. She even made her watch the various livestock engage in...various exploits all the while calmly explaining what was happening.

She'd be so pissed if her little monster of a brother got out of this, 'talk.'

It had been horrifying, mortifying, kill-me-now type stuff. In fact, she had fled part way through the second half of her Mother's lectures and threw herself bodily out of her window and escaped into the woods near the backside of their property.

She knew her brain supplying her with those hellacious memories of her mother's attempt at motherliness was her simply trying to forget the panic that made her pulse race and her heart quicken in the dream she'd just had.

It was just so hard to forget the look on that man, Anderson's face when he died.

Emily stared down at her hands, palms up; small, thin, petite-but strong and calloused from outside work. In the dream, her hands were much larger, had more calluses, and were covered in blood, yet they were hers, she was sure of it. The whole gloomy thing was so at odds with the bright rays of sunshine spilling across her room from the transpari-walls that she almost assured herself it was just a dream rather than...whatever it really felt like.

Like...a memory.

She scoffed, that was impossible.

A familiar voice drifted through the house to her from upstairs. It was her Mom, obviously off to work as it was about 5 in the morning now, according to the holographic clock hovering on her bedside table. The scent of fresh ground coffee wafted on heavenly wings, making her eyes widen with delight.

"Emily! I'm off to the fields! Don't forget to do your chores-especially reprogramming the drones, yeah?" Her Dad's voice rumbled softly, probably saying something to her mom about more chores.

Dad-always looking out for her. She struggled not to let the annoyance bleed into her voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I will!"

"Don't gimme that, you don't have that many chores. Bye! Love you!"

Obviously, she'd failed.

"Meh, Love you too, bye-leave the coffee on please!"

She heard the door shut, heard the shuttle's engines powering up and, within a minute, leaving as a distant rumble.

It was a blessed Saturday, but of course her mom, being an avid natural farmer, refused to automate everything like their neighbors. Sure, her chores weren't' too hard: mainframe maintenance and the occasional omni-tool repair jobs on the harvest drones. Oh, and maybe some reprogramming if things were buggy, but it was simple stuff. Her mom and dad both insisted that they at least do part of it by hand. So, as a result, her and her brother Robert had to tend to a smaller farm out back the house.

The upside was super-fresh vegetables, so she couldn't complain too much.

Emily threw off her covers and sat up, yawning. She was still so tired-in fact she felt even more tired than when she went to bed.

Stupid dream.

Her Virtual Intelligence, Alice, dressed in a digital semblance of one of her favorite characters from the old books; an old-style light blue checkered dress and black headband, flickered on and piped up with that annoying cheer that was so common among consumer-level VI's, "Good morning Emily, should I whip up some nice bangers and mash for your breakfast?"

Her voice was muffled as she yawned again. "Nah, I got it, thank you though-and quit it with the English crap, I don't even know what 'bangers and mash' is." Alice's young, perky, English voice responded, "As you wish Ms. Shepard, I shall be here waiting if you require anything further. Taa-taa!"

Emily grit her teeth, trying not to faux-strangle her perpetually cheerful AI. Why couldn't she be moody or something? It wasn't fair!

Sighing as she made a specific gesture with one hand, the walls turned opaque as she clambered out of bed, shedding her long yellow sleep-shirt and sweat-soaked underwear as she made her way to the shower next door to her room. A quick rinse later and she was downstairs at the kitchen island, pouring herself some orange juice, mixing up an omelet (the only thing she could really cook with any semblance of skill) and toasting some bread. There were definite perks to living on a farm...even one that was involved with mass food production.

As she started eating, she knew she'd have to figure out what to spend her day on; reprogramming took very little time to complete-including the omni-tool maintenance-so she decided that was her first order of business. And since Alice had said it was going to be a scorcher today, she decided on her go-to; a regular skirt and t-shirt, choosing to pull her long red hair back in a ponytail. Her mom, pragmatic woman that she was, had definitely passed on her tomboyish qualities to Emily; though her mother swore it wasn't tom-boyishness but rather a total lack of fucks given about her appearance (Emily loved to edit her mom's voice in her own head with out of character profanity, made things more entertaining) given the delicate, cerebral work she was doing. It was a fact that the two Shepard women were beautiful and preferred to be known for their intelligence rather than what they looked like.

Or so her mom liked to parrot every now and again, particularly after she'd been hit on by men in town. It happened a lot when they went out to eat. Emily learned a great deal from these encounters, particularly where to hit to cause the most damage. Her Dad just laughed and shook his head when informed of these proceedings and her brother just made a face.

At seven, he still didn't give two shits about girls and believed they gave cooties. Emily wished the boys in her high school still believed that.

Two short command lines later and a hollered wake-up call to Robert as she stomped out the door, the house was locked up tighter than a bunker. With Alice watching over it, Emily hardly needed to worry about Robert or his antics. So, that done, Emily turned back and hopped off the porch and started off in the direction of the Barn, squinting in the bright sun. Blinding pinpoints of light gleamed off their fields of solar panels and Emily passed them on her far right on her way out.

The air was warm, but not scorching yet, as she reached the password-protected door to the Barn. Three quick strikes of the keypad saw the massive doors slide open revealing the inside of their mechanized field processing center.

In the last hundred years, food scarcity had been almost entirely eliminated in developed nations like the United North American States or the European Union-and even the Chinese Federation for that matter. At that point, they had enough surplus-mostly through these mechanized, VI-assisted 'farms'-that hunger was almost unheard of, even in the worst of places and particularly in the African Block. At last count the number was less than 1% world-wide-or so her boring-ass history classes had taught her. However, the population had ballooned faster than their surpluses could handle when links were established with the colonies. Now, off-world production of staple foods were essential to the supply lines-hence Mindoir's relative importance.

It took three steps to get her to the nearest omni-tool sync slot and she brought up her own custom-tool interface. Some simple commands later and her chores were done. Easy.

Emily paused.

She could've sworn she heard something strange-a humming, vibration on the edge of her hearing. But what the hell was it coming from? A quick survey around her left her with only the regular hum of electronics, the gentle breeze and swaying of trees at the far edge of the property, and...wait. That was it. There was a vibration in the air, like an old-fashioned TV left on in a room and now that she knew it was there, it was all she could hear. A high-pitched whine and an electrical hum like the feeling you got standing next to a powerful mini-fusion generator like the one in the Barn.

The only problem was that she had shut it off for the reprogramming, relying on regular backups.

Brilliant green eyes swiveled to scan the tree-line way in the distance. Over the rolling hills on the far side of their property, she could see something happening. It was dangerously close to town actually. Maybe a mile and a half out?

She took one step forward, squinting hard into the distance with one hand shading her vision, over the treetops. A house-sized black sphere, darker than anything she'd ever seen phased into existence with an utterly silent explosion, dust and sand and wheat shards flying outwards in a cloud. The orb, she noted absently, sucked in all the light around it. Despite the silence, she felt her bones vibrate in her body. The experience was surreal, like her insides being shaken by a giant.

And the whole time everything was so eerily silent.

She took another step forward, then another in the direction of the sphere, then broke into a sprint.

Straight towards it.

Panic pumped adrenaline through her body double-time as she realized it was headed straight for the fields...

The fields her parents were in!

Emily was three hundred feet from the mysterious object when it destabilized.

The sphere collapsed with a sound like one long pure note from a church bell and everything went white. Her arms came up reflexively to protect her face, but her feet were lifted up off the ground like she weighed nothing and was blown back into the unyielding ground, wheat flattening underneath her body. Total abject panic welled up in her again, for the second time today and briefly, ever so briefly, a blue haze covered her vision.

The haze lasted long enough for her to hit the ground-hard.

She felt her spine, only protected by a thin t-shirt and thin bra-strap, impact a rock embedded in the ground as she was slammed onto the earth by a ferocious force. It didn't hurt that much, but her head whipping backwards into the ground definitely did and it was the last thing she remembered before blacking out.

When the red-headed senior came to moments later, she was lying flat on the ground, staring at the beautiful blue Mindoirian sky. Satisfying herself that she wasn't broken, hands roaming to her important bits-and save for some cuts and bruises and a thoroughly dirty shirt and skirt she was fine-Emily Shepard pushed herself up on her scraped palms and gazed out of the formerly level field.

Now, a new addition took center prominence; a massive circular crater was pressed, as if by a gigantic fist, into the ground about twenty feet in front of her. She could see, just at the lip of it, spiral striations digging into the black dirt in a corkscrew. In the giant crater was a massive rotating black sphere. It was similar to the one she saw just before the explosion...only a lot smaller.

Beaten, dirty, and injured, Emily knew without a shadow of a doubt that her parents were going to kill her, flay her, and never let her out of the house until she was an old maid. This was not, by any means, remotely her fault (bar the curiosity bit)-but going close to the unexplained black sphere of death was. It didn't matter that she was trying to see if they were okay.

Figures though, weird shit always seems to happen to Emily.

To be fair though, this was by far the weirdest of the lot.

Emily looked again, closer this time, at the sphere. She pushed herself up off her scraped palms and stood, brushing her shirt and skirt off, bits of wheat and dirt drifting off of it. She couldn't explain why she felt that this sphere was important somehow.

Firs the dream and now the sphere. Coincidence? Maybe. But Emily had always prided herself on her instincts, something that, when referenced, her father would always smile at and ruffle her hair, saying he took after her as he called it his, 'sixth sense about things.'

Emily decided to ignore the perfectly sound advice in her head (sounding, of course, a lot like her mother's voice) telling her that investigating an anomalous exploding object in an empty field in an age where hostile aliens were a very real thing was not the smartest of life choices. She decided to walk closer, one halting step at a time.

Life was meant to be lived, right?

She noted that the sphere seemed partially embedded in the ground as the top half was maybe ten feet across. Before the explosion, she did remember seeing it start to rapidly spin and contract. Maybe it pushed itself into the ground or something?

Emily was about fifteen feet from the sphere when it moved, collapsing in on itself and she immediately saw, even from that distance, that she was right about it being embedded in the ground. But it was what was lying in the center of the rubble that took her breath away. She halted at the lip of the crater and stared down at what lay inside it.

It was a boy.

Emily squinted and looked closer. Her green eyes raked over the strong jawline, across the eye patch covering his right eye, up to the angry, glowing red diamond embedded in his forehead, down across his scar-riddled neck to the strange clothing-the beaten and battered high-collared pitch black robes with red clouds drifting across it and struggled not to laugh-though the scene was far from funny.

It was just...

Well, she thought, it was official.

Mom, Dad, and Robert finally drove me crazy.

A/N: Hey everybody, I'm back! Sorry for the long wait. I'm trying to get my head on straight and I think I may have finally done so... we'll see.

I left a lot of teasers in here and, given that this is an AU, I'm taking some serious liberties. There is a tone and feel I want to get across, a large message that I hope to explore using these two unique universes and their message. If you want to read more, I suggest looking up 'cosmicism' and you'll probably end up seeing what I'm talking about. It might even give hints about where I might take this story! :) As always, reviews are wonderful motivators for a writer, though not necessary. I just like hearing what you guys found enjoyable and what you didn't about a particular chapter.

This, as you might have surmised, is a story that revolves around Naruto and fem!Shepard and the parts they play. They will struggle, they will fail, they will be badass. But will it be enough? Does it even matter? I guess we'll see...

As for Naruto, well, he was born canon!Naruto, but certain events have shaped him into a bit of a different player. We'll see his transformation as well. Till next time, Cheers!

Arte

PS. Check my bio for information on potential updates and various other odds and ends. Oh, and see if you can spot the easy references to great series!

CHAPTER 2 PREVIEW:

To pay this price was madness to the craziest of them.

Then angry green light spilled out from the green elder and lit the cave, highlighting and blending with the phosphorous fungi that lit the cave systems.

"I do. I accept, Eldest. I will face Oblivion. In exchange, I demand the activation of the Destiny Engine."

The Eldest gyrated, floating, stunned.

"So be it. So mote it be. We will begin preparations now. Prepare yourself."

The sea was calm above them-as if waiting, frightened.

It was only the second calm sea Despoina had ever seen in its billion-year lifetime.