The Meridian autumn rainy season arrived later than usual this year, a fact that turned out to be more of a blessing than a curse. It had allowed much of the city's renovations to be completed without damp damage to internal structures, and also meant that those who were sleeping rough (there were still many) didn't have to contend with being cold and wet. Aloy stood once again on her balcony, watching the clouds coalesce and the thunderheads grow, and enjoying the sensation of the ticklish, warm wind that squalls around just before a storm takes hold. The rain was steady for a while, and there was something quite satisfying about watching it fall, especially the large fat drops that grew at the ends of the awnings before falling to the ground. The buildings and streets grew darker in colour as the rain kissed them, and children flocked into the roadways to enjoy the sensation of the cooling raindrops after a season of oppressive heat. If anything signalled that a semblance of normality - whatever that might mean - was returning to the city, then this was it, a short and carefree celebration of existence without a thought for wars, machines or tribal grievances.

Still, Aloy was troubled by the events at Cauldron Rho, and reflected daily upon them. She and the survivors of the battle had returned to Meridian soon after the Cauldron was destroyed, in an explosion that had been so appalling that the mountainside had caved in and triggered landslides for some miles around. Miraculously, there had been no further loss of life, though several important streams and rivers had become dammed with debris. A tranche of the allied army had stayed behind to help the local people clear the blockages. Meanwhile, she had regrouped with Hana and Rai, but the march back whilst in general good spirits, had been punctuated with odd, contemplative silences, as if not no-one quite knew whether they had won or lost. "What happened at the Cauldron, Aloy? Why did the Stormbirds do that?" they had demanded, and Aloy could not give them a satisfactory answer. Sylens had been unable to shed any further light on why those machines had acted as they had, and Aloy had accepted that he was being honest.

Avad had taken the news in a similarly puzzled vein. He would have no machine army, but then the enemy from which the need for it had sprung had also been erased. Permanently? Temporarily? Nobody knew, and they were seemingly right back where they had been at the end of the Battle of Meridian. Except, as Aloy had pointed out (and Marad had backed her up), the city was now returning to its former beauty. The historical tensions between the Carja, Oseram and Nora had eased, and a new spirit of cultural cooperation was starting to bloom, perhaps even radiate outwards into the wider world. But he did not seem entirely convinced by this narrative - he saw it more cause for optimism than celebration. Then again, he still grieved for his wife-to-be, a loss that would take some time to heal yet. If there was a silver lining to that cloud, it was that the Oseram leaders visited Avad soon after the return from Rho, and there was a spirit of shared loss - though it was difficult for him to say where that relationship would go in the long run. As Avad had said: "it isn't about being optimistic or pessimistic, but more about what is possible, and today more things are possible than yesterday."

Later that evening in her room, Aloy talked to Sylens for only the second time since the Cauldron's destruction. She had been putting this particular conversation off because she feared that Sylens was still playing a game of risk that she did not have a taste for.

"He's still alive, isn't he?" she asked, knowing full well the reply she'd get.

"Yes, he is. I promised him he could live if he opened the doors, and he obliged. There are important conversations he and I need to have, still."

"He's fundamentally evil, Sylens."

"But impotent, Aloy. I have seen to it that he cannot see, hear or act beyond the confines of his cage now."

"We thought that before, and look what happened then."

"We were not careful enough then. We are now. Besides, is 'evil' correct? He was programmed to perform a single task, not evaluate the moral implications of what he does. For sure: he is dangerous, and cannot be allowed to fulfil his instructions. But to project human values of right and wrong on to him would seem to me quite wrong."

"I suppose there's little point in me lecturing you. But I hope you're right, Sylens, and that you find out what you want to know. And that in the end you think all this was worth it."

"There was once a saying of the Ancients, Aloy. It went 'Those who fail to understand the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it'. We must understand, Huntress."

"Maybe we can't 'understand', Sylens. Maybe we're just too small and stupid to comprehend the enormity of the things we can create. It's like we create a game and the rules and then find that after a while the pieces are playing us, not the other way around, but we're mostly too blind and self-absorbed to notice."

"A bleak world view indeed, Aloy. I choose to believe otherwise. I know today more than I did yesterday; there's no reason to think I won't know tomorrow more than I do today."

"But we don't know why a flock of the last Stormbirds in the world apparently sacrificed themselves to come to our aid?"

"No. But maybe it's vain to think that it has anything to do with us. Maybe the gods have bigger concerns than our selfish prayers and petty squabbles?"

"Maybe." She smiled wryly. "But I didn't think you had any time for 'gods', Sylens?"

He sniffed a laugh. "I meant figuratively. The technology of the Ancients is godlike to us, Huntress, is it not?"

"Well anyway, as you can imagine, Marad and Avad are not exactly delighted that you have their sworn enemy as a guest -"

"I like to think of him as my 'prisoner'."

"- well that's not quite how they see it. If it gets out that you rescued and are still harbouring Hades, you may receive unwelcome visitors, you know that?"

"A risk I am always re-evaluating, but your concern is appreciated." He changed topic. "I am inclined to ask what you will do next?"

She sighed a little. "I don't know yet. The king needs me and I'm happy to make myself useful around here. There's still a lot of work to do, and it's kind of feeling like a home from home now.

"One more thing. I guess I ought to have said thanks for what you did for me. If you weren't babysitting a genocidal maniac I might even have paid you a visit to say it to your face. But thank you. I owe you my life."

The comms link went quiet. Aloy just shook her head, and flicked her Focus off.