Although the sun was now setting, the streets of Meridian were still incendiary to the touch. In the fractious air, the distant sounds of hammering and sawing of wood and the chipping and shaping of stone drifted and reverberated between the buildings and down the lanes, even at this late hour. Reconstruction was taking place fast after the horrors of the Eclipse attack, but there was still a long way to go to get the city back to its former state. The twisted corpses of vanquished enemy machines - ugly metal talons jutting from river banks, waterfalls, houses and state buildings - were proving difficult to shift. At one point, Avad had called Aloy to his counsel and requested she override one of the few remaining wild Behemoths to act as a kind of bulldozer to remove the shattered remains of their attackers. But she had been unhappy about the idea, and - more to the point - the negative reaction from Avad's advisors had been enough to make him retract the request. The city, perhaps the entire Carja Sundom, had seen quite enough of machines for the time being. However, the battle had forced its citizens to pull together, so now droves of volunteers were to be seen everywhere, digging, dismembering and even scavenging the myriad Deathbringers and corrupted machines that had assaulted the city in the days previously.

The corrosive tang of burnt wood filled the air still, but to Brin's violated nostrils this was barely noticeable. In the past years he had grown accustomed to substances of such potency that either his olfactory system had desensitized, or the cells had been killed off by the toxins present in what he referred to as "machine blood". Whether this had allowed him to see the future, he was now deeply unsure of. Having prophesised the downfall of civilisation, he was somewhat surprised to see the world very much alive (if not quite yet kicking) around him, and this was deeply disturbing to a man - nay a Shaman - whose world view was predicated on knowing the future. Further, he realised how lazy it would have been for him to simply declare that his vision of catastrophe was still to happen. At least ... not without further information.

He rubbed his eyes, slightly wearily. His skin was stained with the dribble from vitals of machines he had rendered. Lips, slightly grey as if themselves becoming metal; hair brittle and dry as desert reeds. Pain had been Brin's constant companion for several years now. Partly it was old age; bones and sinew were not what they were, and the incessant dry heat of the region had taken its toll on his body. But of course he had devoted the latter part of his life to machines and their brutal magic - a thing which he would freely admit he still did not understand (and it was not his place to comprehend, only to be the messenger). Battles with the maws and raptors that stalked the desert had pounded his frame, leaving bruises, and broken almost every bone there was to break. And of course the imbibing of their fluids - cocktails of fuel, lubricant, chemical messengers, cleaners and whatever else was in there, was clearly going to be questionable for his health. Indeed, soon after his arrival in Meridian some weeks back, he had collapsed to the floor in his hostel and had to be taken to see one of their healers. The poor fool had not seen a Banuk before, let alone one who drank the blood of machines; yet his pronouncement of impending death had clearly not come to pass, and - perhaps thanks to a little care on Brin's part - he actually felt a little haler than he had in his recent memory. Still, there were some injuries that would never heal, and maybe this calm in the storm was little more than the short lull that life granted him to sort out his affairs (such as they were) before his time expired.

So with his clock running down, Brin sought some kind of closure. For once, he wished for understanding of some kind. Just a little glimpse of what context there was behind the violence and death and stupidity of the past. Not simply passing on obscure messages to others who would be similarly baffled on their receipt - what did that buy anyone? Tiny fragments of a huge parchment covered in cryptic runes of unknown origin, the blind leading the blind to - where exactly? The Huntress had changed everything now, and perhaps made a mockery not just of his foretelling, but of premonition itself. And whilst he was naturally uncomfortable with that concept, it also delighted him just a little. That the world still had a way of doing something unexpected was, in its own way, satisfying to a man of his years. The hint that not all the stories had yet been written.

Brin shifted his legs under the table as they were starting to ache, and took a sip of water from the tankard in front of him. It was slightly warm, but otherwise tasteless to him, simply a fluid his body required lest it fail completely. Subsequent to his episode at the residence, he had lost the Banuk headdress and robe that he had pretty much lived in for far too long. Whether he just wanted to blend in, or as a kind of symbolic discarding of his past, he found it difficult to say. Perhaps both, perhaps neither. And whilst it afforded him some physical comfort, the psychological cost was still being paid. Philosophically, he mused that this left him no worse off. Another sip of water soothed him further.

The door to the Yadav Inn opened and closed smoothly, only really noticeable due to the rise and fall in volume of the reconstruction outside. A man had entered, dressed in dark finery, but with a disposition so relaxed and at ease that you could not conceive he was not born and bred here. He smiled at the innkeeper - a fetching woman in her thirties - who smiled back automatically - made a small, almost unnoticeable gesture with his hand which caused her to quickly glance in Brin's direction, and came straight to Brin's table to sit down, locking his dark gaze on to his slightly reddened and tired eyes. Brin saw many things in that brief glance. A man who had scars both outside and inside; skin that was sand-scraped and sun-reddened; a flexible moral outlook. This man has seen - and done - much that was not ordinary. Good.

The man's voice was quiet, just above the threshold of audibility. But from its tone it was clear he was no mouse. "I am led to understand you may have some business for me?" he said in an almost casual way. Before Brin could answer, the innkeeper was standing over them, with a tankard of ale for the new customer. He thanked her, and she returned to the counter at such a distance that she would clearly not be eavesdropping.

"I am looking for something rare. So rare that I have never before seen it in all my years. Of which, you will gather, I have had many" Brin began.

"Many people seek things and never find them. If you have never seen it, can you be sure it exists? And if not, why would I waste my time obtaining it?"

"Shards, good man... What should I call you?"

"Trello. It is not my name, but it will suffice for the purposes of our business. And shards are most welcome in this strange and difficult time. The more the better. But we are dancing around each other a little, and I am a busy man and whilst I enjoy mysteries, I will not entertain any work that I do not comprehend, so...?" He sipped the ale in front of him.

"Ah, 'comprehend' is such an interesting word. It is that which I personally seek, but for your part in this swan-song of mine, I simply require you to obtain a sample of machine blood for me. It is a strange peccadillo that I have, to collect these liquids, but I seek a complete set and there is one that has eluded me for all my efforts. I only ask for a small vial, and since the machine in question is certainly dead, there is less personal risk to your person."

Trello's eyebrow raised up ever so slightly, a gesture of mild skepticism. "You make it sound easy. So easy that even a less careful man than I might still wonder why you do not undertake this yourself?"

Brin chuckled at the slightly mocking tone in the mercenary's words. "My years have defeated my skills somewhat. In my heyday, I would have taken on Ravagers and Thunderjaws with little sense of personal risk. But now? Physicians declare me a walking corpse. I have no appetite, and less skill, for stealth and deception".

Trello pursed his lips a little, clearly feeling some impatience. "Stealth and deception? There are many bodies of machines scattered around the city and beyond into the forest and hills, ripe for the pillaging. One can barely move for them down towards the river. Am I to understand that you seek something other than this?"

"You do. Tell me sir, before I reveal what my needs are, I need reassurance that you are capable of the discretion and sleight of hand this job requires. To be found out would be unfortunate for us both, but I freely admit, since I am on a death sentence anyway, significantly worse for you than for me."

Trello's voice lost the slight hint of irritation, clearly glad that Brin was getting to the point, and as if he had heard such a question many times before. "Thank you for your honesty, customer. As for questioning my fortitude, there is no man or woman that could elicit the fees that I do and yet retain the reputation I have – and that clearly attracted your good self. Plus, I have an endearing habit of finding those customers that cross me and slitting their throats." He smiled ever so slightly at that before continuing. "You can be rest assured that if I accept a job, I deliver, and that if I cannot deliver, I do not accept the job." Almost nonchalantly, Trello produced a small black leather bag obesely overflowing with shards - Brin's money pouch which had been secreted within the folds of his cloak.

Brin took this in without changing his disposition, masking the fact that he was sufficiently impressed at this minor violation. He had no real idea of what he could have asked to be convinced that this ... thief ... was the right person for the job. But there was a quiet confidence about him, and - looking as best he could into the demeanour of Trello, he looked as good a bet as any. He was also the fourth of those who his contact could muster, the previous three having failed to inspire much trust, (and certainly not having the boldness demonstrated here). Certainly no more, arguably less. With some sense of his clock ticking, dithering here for the "right" person could end in frustration. He clawed back his money pouch from Trello's grasp and decided to push on.

"The machine I speak of will be guarded. It lies in the courtyard near the Spire. And though there will, no doubt, be many machines that met their end there, only one of them will have a very special spear impaled in it. I desire a vial of this machine's blood for my collection, so I may end my days with some ... closure."

In her dreams, Aloy always died. Somehow, in the reality that Earth had just endured, she had survived. The sickly sweet stench of Corruption was only now fading from her senses, and sleep - the deep, uninterrupted sort that cleanses and heals the wounds of the past - had proven difficult to come by. She woke once more from shallow slumber, feeling disoriented and a little dizzy, in her tent. She had refused Avad's insistence that she live in the Sun Palace, feeling more at home, and considerably less awkward, here, amongst the sort of ordinary people she felt empathy towards. Still, every morning, there would be a platter of fresh food from Avad's kitchen outside, and she took some pleasure in quietly eating a little of that, and more in giving the remainder she did not eat to the many refugee children in Meridian who were a stone's throw away.

It was mid morning, a coruscating crack of sunlight burnt its way through the tent flaps, just missing her head. She flicked the inner canvas closed to block out the razor-sharp beam. Outside, the bustle of people rebuilding their lives after trauma was overwhelming. Inside though, she had learnt to subtract the commotion from her consciousness. The reality was that she was avoiding it. Though she would have dearly liked to help, she was no carpenter or mason or builder, and those were the skills in real demand now. Of course no-one else would dare ask her to assist, considering that she had already discharged her duties way beyond expectation in the battle for the Spire. Even the usually straight-speaking Avad was far busier finding ways to thank her for her services than asking her to hunt again; and even if he had, the environs of the city had been cleansed of machines for kilometres. For the first time in her twenty years of life, she found herself bored, and it was not an enjoyable sensation. She let out a soft sigh, and sat up. Her bows and assorted weapons were stacked neatly beside her, still in impeccable condition; and she was suddenly aware that she could not remember the last time she had shot an arrow since Hades had been disarmed.

Outside the tent, her Charger mount snorted. It was the only machine that was tolerated in Meridian, but its presence was not enjoyed, she could see people anxiously avoiding any path that would go near, even it as it stood patiently and placidly in the heat of the sun. She had considered getting rid of it, but had found herself strangely bonded to the beast. Overridden, it was helpful, a tool for the better, a universe different from the feral entities the Cauldrons had been churning out since the Derangement. But Aloy realised that at this particular point in time, there was an understandable hatred of everything machine in the land, and this was adding to her sense of discomfort.

A flicker-wave of nausea washed over her as she thought that. Truth be told, she had felt that several times recently. It always passed, and in times where she was less idle, would have scarcely caused her concern. But now, with so much time to idle and deliberate, it seemed a little bigger. Perhaps, in the heat and fury of that battle in the shadow of the Spire, the corruption had poisoned her? She recalled the black, oily jets of liquid that has oozed and sprayed from the dying carcasses of the eviscerated machines. Her outfits had protected her well, she thought, but they could not have prevented her breathing in that dark vapour. Avad's physician, Rifky, had examined her in the afterglow of the fight, and declared her fit and healthy, if a little bruised and on the point of exhaustion. So maybe this was all just a cumulation of stress, and pushing herself to the limit, followed by some kind of post-trauma?

Or perhaps, more worryingly, this was something to do with the power surge she had endured after plunging her modified spear into Hades' heart? That frightful, unexpected burst of energy had nearly rendered her unconscious in that moment, the consequences of which would have been almost too disturbing to contemplate. Hades' last, desperate attack before he felt the Master Override defeat his schemes. The burns from that were taking too long to heal.

Naturally, this led Aloy to contemplate escaping back to the wilderness again. That part of her, the little girl who Rost had raised in the vast open lands of snowflake, stone and tree, yearned for the crisp cold air, the crunch of packed snow underfoot, the gurgle of a stream and the lack of pressure to be anything other than herself at that exact moment in time. And yet, was this unrealistic? The world had changed in so many ways since the time when she had first identified as an outcast. That soon become a way of life, an identity she first did not want and then latterly almost took a fierce pride in. And now? The Nora revered her, attributing to her almost goddess-like abilities. There was no life of simplicity and hunting to return to. More to the point: no Rost, no real family, and Aloy was sure she would feel as out of place in Mother's Heart as she felt here. Indeed, whilst the grateful thanks of the peoples of Meridian were often annoying, the messianic sycophancy of some of the Nora was far worse. So the idea of returning to what had passed for home for the large part of her life was, therefore, quite unappealing to her.

She sighed, and idly picked up the small globe that she had found at her mo-... Elisabet Sobeck's tomb. It had taken some time to track that location down, thank GAIA for her mount which had sped the journey across many more miles than she could recollect. Despite all that had transpired and the (frankly shocking) things she had learnt, Aloy was still confused as to who she really was. Every child was a chimera of their mother and father, but her? She was just a carbon-copy of Elisabet Sobeck, minus all the epigenetic influences and life experiences. Her true mother and father were Elisabet's mother and father, and no amount of digging through the logs had given her the sort of information about them that she sought. The globe was satisfyingly heavy in her hand, for a second she imagined like she was holding an actual world with tiny people and tiny machines on it, and that she was GAIA... Such a crushing responsibility.

She dressed, and collected the expected tray of fruit, water and freshly baked bread from outside. The loaf was delicious and still warm, but she did not feel so hungry, and picked at it. There was one thing that was clear to Aloy. In amongst all the uncertainities of what the future will bring and what the past was all about, there was one person alone on this planet who had answers - not that he could be relied upon for yielding them. He then was the one to track down and pin in a corner with a hardpoint arrow at his forehead. But Sylens had vanished after GAIA Prime, and though every day Aloy made efforts to cajole him into speaking to him via the Focus network, all that she ever got was ... silence, not Sylens. The founder of the Eclipse did not like attempts to contact him, she reasoned; but he would be on the other end of the line should he perceive a need to talk to her. So she had been making quite an effort to ponder what it was that he might want that she could reasonably give? So far, nothing had worked. But it was a little project for her to be getting on with, and it kept her mind from straying onto the existential stuff that generally led to feelings of misery. So she clipped the Focus onto her ear, ready to commence what was becoming a major part of her daily morning routine.

"Sylens. It's me, Aloy. The Entity. I just called to let you know (again) that I found my mother, and that I sent Hades back to where it came from. Aren't you pleased? Honestly, I miss your charm and wit so much, so this is attempt number 43 to get you to wish me a pleasant morning. Are you there?"

There was a predictable silence in her Focus. Not just "no response", a cold, uncaring lack of any sound that could be interpreted as a reply. After a few seconds of bearing that, Aloy continued.

"So here's today's news from sunny Meridian. City rebuilding just keeps on going, it's like 24 hours non-stop. The Ridge has a massive hole in it, I'll be impressed to see how they fix that. Meanwhile, everybody thinks I'm some kind of deity, which is nice for a while, but it's a pain in the ass after that. Getting insults and derision from you would be a pleasant change for a while so get in touch, why not? Over."

Silence. Aloy was running out of small talk, as she usually did quite quickly.

"Anyway, Avad reckons we all need cheering up - can't think why - and he's announced that he's getting married. Yeah, quite a few people were lining me up for that job, but it turns out that Avad is smart enough to take on a marriage of convenience. We don't know the details yet, but word on the street is that some lucky Oseram girl is going to climb many steps up the social ladder oh could you just hold on I'm feeling one of my sick turns..."

Aloy barely had time to throw open the tent's flaps before vomiting. Her head span for a second or two before recovering her composure. She'd had the presence of mind to position her tent far enough away from others so as not to attract too much attention, so the indiscretion went unnoticed. As she looked up, she noticed that the influx of refugees was continuing - to the extent that makeshift living quarters were spreading towards her. There were a good number of people about, but there was a general atmosphere of people coming down from the elation of victory to the realisation that there was a stupendous amount of work to do, and people were absorbed in their own schemes and issues. She wiped her lips with a rag and took a swig of water to remove the sour taste from her mouth. "No blood this time. That's got to be good".

The sun was close to its noon zenith, and the tent had become uncomfortably hot. Aloy packed her weapons and started on her way to her daily appointment with Avad in the Sun Palace's orchard. The king had positively insisted that she gave him daily counsel on strategic matters, and despite the odd clash of culture and social rank, this was actually something she felt she could endorse. Generally the discussions had been about the many minor matters affecting the city, but there had been occasional forays into more far-reaching political matters, which Aloy had felt less qualified to advise on. Blameless Marad was usually around to speak on these broader topics, but there were occasional moments when everyone's gaze would fall on her, as if she were a strategic magician who could pull tactical rabbits out of hats. She was happy to indulge this, even if there were no concrete decisions being made. What was left of the city's army and the allies were all focused on coordinating the repair efforts, both in the cities and in the surrounding lands. There were concerns that an attack now, unlikely as it was, from some unseen quarter, would inevitably be fatal. So Aloy was ready to recommend today that spies be recruited, and sent to gather intelligence from the wider land. And that she should be one of them. Though she remained open to exactly where she was actually deployed, she had an irrational yearning for the mountains of the North. This, she reasoned, would satisfy her need for empty space and help her escape from the omnipresent heat of Meridian, two Glinthawks with one arrow.

Avad was reclining on a hammock strung between two peach trees, reading a parchment which Aloy inferred was of some importance, given the expression on his face. He glanced up from the document on her approach, commenting "Aloy. I read that Sunfall has officially requested an alliance with the sundom. This is good news, is it not?"

"It could be. Do you trust them? It isn't so long ago they were cheering sacrifices - including me - in the Arena. Can a people turn their allegiance so quickly?"

"Defeat can be quite sobering, even for the proud and defiant" said Avad, sounding as if this was as much experience as judgement. "And with Helis first made to look foolish, and then being vanquished, they must feel quite rudderless."

"As do we all"

"As do we all, indeed. But they have hunger and not inconsiderable guilt to trouble their sleep"

"Does guilt figure in the mind of the Shadow Carja?" asked Aloy, somewhat rhetorically.

"For their soldiers and officers - what remains of them - most likely not. But now it is ordinary men, women and children left behind in the slums. Many are starving, many are destitute, but cannot endure the pilgrimage to here, and as you are no doubt seeing, our city is struggling to keep up with the needy anyway."

"And the palace?"

"It would appear that, prior to the assault on Meridian, much of what was considered of value was converted to weapons, machine parts, or traded for resources. It is but a hollow shell now, albeit an architecturally beautiful one. It strikes me that this would make a suitable winter residence for my erstwhile queen, don't you think?"

"I don't feel qualified to comment. Especially seeing as I don't know who this lucky woman is?"

Avad smiled. "An announcement will follow presently. Be assured that you will be among the first to know. But for now... I am convinced that security is still a matter of concern. There is nothing more dangerous than a fanatic who has lost everything and tasted the humiliation of defeat. We cannot know how many of the Eclipse remain, and - if I were they - the temptation to remain dormant before regrouping at a suitable point in the future will be tempered with the opportunities that our current weaknesses offers them."

"And Marad agrees?"

"Marad agrees."

Aloy nodded, and started to interject with her request to be redeployed in the role of espionage, but Avad broke in before she could form the first word.

"I have a matter of some delicacy to discuss with you."

Aloy was taken aback. "Ok... How can I help?"

Avad had a dark look about him, all of a sudden. Pigeons wheeled and squealed overhead. "As I said, security is a matter of concern for me, and your security too".

Aloy allowed herself a wry smile. "You might have noticed I can look after myself."

"Yes. Yes you can. However, there are some things that are harder to protect yourself from." He cleared his throat before continuing. "I have noticed that you look paler of late."

"Well I am red-haired," she joked, but knew that Avad was more aware of certain things than she would have liked.

"Forgive me, but I have deployed what resource I can spare to ensure your continued safety. You are the heroine of Meridian, after all. My people would consider mutiny were you to die in my care. I have had reports of your continued sickness, and it causes me some anguish."

Aloy tried not to sound too defensive. "Rifky said I was fine when she examined me; it's true, I've felt a bit off-colour, but I think what I need is just a month or two away from the noise and stress of Meridian, a chance to sleep in the coolness of the wild, and I'll be good as new".

Avad did not look at all convinced. "Are you petitioning me for something specific? You only have to ask. But you should remember that it is not just myself expressing worry on your behalf. Erend has heard of your afflictions, too, and is so worried that he has asked to return from his duties."

"Bad news travels fast. Especially if it's not true. Where is Erend anyway, I do keep asking and you keep on not saying?"

"He is undertaking important work for me at the moment. I cannot say more at this time, much as I would wish to. But he will return soon"

Well, thought Aloy, if Erend was being spared the obvious duties around the city then certainly something was important. So presumably he had not been sent alone, and that usually meant some of the more elite soldiers and commanders at Avad's disposal. For sure, transparency was not the new Sun-King's modus operandi - at least not at this point in his reign. But she accepted that gracefully, considering the nature of his father, the beast he had replaced. "So... What should I say?"

"Tell me how you feel. Are you fit for battle? In mind, as well as in body?"

"I feel... I feel fine. I need to train, I need to sleep, and I need to gather my wits and work out what I want to do with myself."

"And the sickness?"

"It's nothing. It will pass."

Aloy looked calmly into Avad's eyes to see if she had reassured him. It was difficult to say. She would have to convince herself first, rather than simply dismiss the concerns, and without that conviction backing up her words, there would always be room for doubt. Suddenly though, she started as her Focus unexpectedly crackled and a loud voice blazed in her head.

"Aloy. This is Sylens. We need to talk. Meet me outside GAIA Prime. Sooner, rather than later"

Avad saw Aloy's reaction and immediately looked perturbed. "What? Did I say something indiscrete?"

"Excuse me for a moment," she snapped. Aloy left the king with his look of concern scratching at the back of her head, and made her way into the leafy labyrinth at the center of the orchard. It was probably the most private place she could find at short notice.

"Sylens! What the hell? Are you still there?"

Once again, silence. Sylens only spoke when he needed to, she knew that. Aloy's mind whirled. Had she said something which had triggered that out-of-the-blue reply? Was Sylens concerned about the tittle-tattle of the Sundom's royalty? She doubted it. She replayed the message - short as it was - in her head, but found nothing that stood out as significant. And what did "Sooner rather than later" mean? Was he playing with her? On the other hand, wasn't this exactly what she had been angling for, a reason to escape to the wastelands? Hopefully there would be answers, "sooner rather than later".

She returned to the king's side, having taken a few deep breaths to compose hereself. He was looking surprisingly relaxed again, as if nothing had happened in the last while. But his opening question was to the point. "Who do you speak to on your ... device. Focus, you call it?"

This was a most awkward question. Aloy trusted Avad, and wanted him to trust her likewise. So it was just not going to be possible for her to declare that she was, in fact, liaising with the founder of the Eclipse, an organisation that had very nearly razed the entire Sundom, had killed many of Avad's people, and destroyed swathes of fertile farmland and industry in the process, setting back the regional economy for decades. "I have a ... helper."

Avad indicated surprise. "'Silence' is a strange name for a helper?"

"Yes well he's a strange helper, but he did save my life once ... Albeit after risking it for his own gain, but..."

"Ah. Well I know better than to question the company the heroine of the Spire keeps, even at a distance."

Aloy suspected the king was looking for far more information than she was willing to give, so paused for several seconds to allow that thread of the conversation to grow stale.

"You were right earlier. I need to get away; it will assist my heath, I'm sure. And there is some purpose behind it"

"Go on." Avad held her gaze, not allowing himself to be distracted by the servant who had appeared to serve them water.

"As you said, we have no idea what has become of the Eclipse. They may have all died here" she waved her hand in the general direction of The Ridge and The Spire. "But we can't be sure of that."

"We also don't know what has become of the machines. Many were corrupted and brought to battle, but again, all we know is that there are none around here - save for my mount. When I travelled to my mother's grave, I saw only a few en route. The cauldrons have all been deactivated now, so nothing new will have been manufactured. So depending on how long these machines can keep going before they just break, their numbers will be dropping."

"You are the Huntress, Aloy, and I trust your instinct. But we have talked of these matters before, and you have led me to understand that, before the Derangement, these machines were intended to make our world a better place, indeed shaped into forms that we might recognize via ancient memory. Once all the hostile machines are gone, what then?"

"Then? Then the world is ours again. We shouldn't need machines to make things work. In fact it was machines that ruined it all in the first place. The age of The Ancients was ended by their creations. So we should be rid of them, and rid of those who would use them against us. We need to be sure though."

"So what are you proposing?"

"Espionage. Send out a team to keep tabs on events beyond the view of Meridian. Sunfall, for one. The gates and townships. Watch out for unusual activity and try to snuff out any problems before they can take hold. I am happy to volunteer my services in the North East."

"You do not wish to return to your tribe?"

Aloy made a bitter smile. "They aren't really 'my' tribe. And I can do without the sycophancy and bowing and being their 'anointed'. It's ... It's not for me. You wear the crown well. I was raised a lone wolf, and I prefer it that way."

"I thank you for the compliment. But even wolves have a pack. Would you really face the road alone again?"

"Yes. After all that's happened, I need the feel of snow and mountain underfoot to be at home, and the space and time for my thoughts and feelings. To find myself, once again."

Avad pursed his lips. He realized, and had always known, that Aloy was not going to stick around Meridian forever. As much as he wanted to protect her, as much as he wanted to have her both as a weapon against whatever might assail them and a beacon of hope for his kingdom in the difficult times ahead, he grudgingly conceded that she would have to be granted her freedom. And her plan made complete sense. People did not, could not, and (maybe Aloy was right) should not trust machines. The land needed to be cleansed, this had become obvious to him some weeks previously. "Your words make sense to me. Prepare yourself for the journey, I shall dwell on those who I can spare to assist in this operation. Visit me again at dusk, and we shall talk more on the matter."

Aloy thanked the king, and left sharply to prepare her departure. Avad sat up on his hammock, stroking his chin ruefully for a moment before beckoning his servant. "I need to speak with Marad."

Blameless Marad arrived within minutes. "My king?"

"Aloy is to leave us imminently, on a mission of discovery and espionage. We need to continue to ensure her safety."

"That might prove troublesome."

"Yes, but if she were to meet with disaster on the road, that too would be troublesome."

"Agreed. But do you think she will endure a companion?"

"No. If there is one thing I am sure of, it is that Aloy will not endure a companion."

"So we must spy on the spy?"

"Yes. It would appear so."

"Very good, highness".

"No, Marad. 'Good', it is not. If I were as vain as my father, I would consider that I, the Sun-King, were the most important person in creation. I try not to follow in any of his footsteps. I try to be what he was not, and hope that in time, they" (he gestured towards the palace walls and the sprawling city beyond) "will see me as a leader they will follow out of choice, not fear. We are not there, yet, my friend. Aloy though? She treads lightly through the world and cares little what others may think, the only footsteps of import to her are her own. Yet: she is rightly adored by many. She has given them hope, and transformed that hope into victory. At the moment, she is the centre of the universe, and no harm must come to her"

Avad paused, looked to the cloudless sky and squinted. "If I am to succeed here, then the test will come not now, as the people are all too focused on the need to rebuild their houses. Their lives. No, the time will come, perhaps too soon, when all that is done, and the peoples of this land look up from their hammers and forges and tillers and wonder where they will go next. For one thing is sure; that everything has changed, nothing can be the same, and we must all rediscover ourselves."