As scheduled, a sa-serpent arrived the next day. On account of their counterfeit argument, Foidan could only observe through the window as Arin and his son departed.
She was no longer legally his wife, since the High Scribe, as a member of the Civil Service, had efficiently granted them a divorce. The Viceroy, not wanting to be left out, had also declared the marriage annulled under Invincible Light. The marriage was not religious in the first place, but at this point it hardly mattered.
He had entrusted her with a letter for Manziholet and she also left behind one for Gothlow during their last meeting. She did not hug him that time, and neither did she look back to the palace when she stepped into her sa-raven's cabin. A voice in his head told him that she was leaving him for real instead of acting. Like fear, it was irrational, so he gave it the same treatment.
Arin felt a slight jolt as the sa-raven ascended. The baby Manziholet was woken up but he did not cry. His black eyes gazed at her curiously before his tiny hand reached out and twirled a strand of her smooth black hair.
"He will make a fine Seraphist," Tamajiang, who had joined her, said. "Maybe he'll even be admitted into the Studium one day."
"I expect no less," she replied. Being ordinary was, after all, failure by association, which she would not tolerate in her flesh and blood.
Soon, the flock of sa-ravens carrying the host along with their mortal soldiers and scribes passed through the sa-serpent's wounds and arrived inside its demiplane. The air abruptly smelled of mint as the laws of the demiplane took over the cabin. Messages, not unlike that of Amishar, emerged on her vision.
[Greetings, travelers. Welcome to Sa-serpent 2901 of the Third Line.]
[During the journey, please honor the regulations set forth by the Guild of Caelivagantes and follow the command issued by the Dentifer.]
[Failure to comply will result in immediate ejection and a ban from all service of the Guild of Caelivagantes based on severity.]
The sa-ravens, guided by their riders, carried the cabins through the artificial blue sky, filled with puffy clouds and floating structures made of stone and crystal. Beneath them was a seemingly infinite expanse of ocean, holding sporadic islands that were occupied by lush forest and human settlements. There lived the Guilders and family thereof, who dedicated their life as organs and crews of the sa-serpent both.
The High Scribe had already handled the passage purchase and filled all required forms. Instead of having to deal with the Guild's enforcers, the flock was free to spread out to the floating inns, each massive enough to serve tens of thousands of travelers. More messages also arrived to confirm the schedule and destinations. They would have three more planets to stop by, or roughly half a day, before reaching TerraSol.
Arin and the Seraphists stayed at the Honor & Charity. At the top, it had a tall tower with long cross-shaped windows. At the bottom, separated by a round landing yard with fences, was another symmetrical tower where the sa-ravens went to rest after depositing their passengers at the appropriate floors. They, of course, were given the highest living quarter, with a clear view of the scenery and dedicated servants.
[Departing for Klais II in 100.]
[Departing for Klais II in 99.]
Arin settled in her room along with Manziholet as the sa-serpent's wounds closed. She sat down on the bed and calmed down her quickening heartbeats. The appropriate thing to do, she thought, was to cry. Foidan, after all, was the love of her life and it pained her deeply to end their marriage, but she could not bring herself to do so. Regret was not worth her time.
[Departing for Klais II in 3.]
[Departing for Klais II in 2.]
[Departing for Klais II in 1.]
Nothing changed inside the demiplane as the sa-serpent swallowed its own tail and broke through thousands of light years worth of distance. The wounds opened once again to the sight of a sprawling city on a desert. Klais II was obviously more wealthy than Jano, seeing that a huge number of sa-ravens were flying back and forth to trade cargo and people.
During the journey, Amenemopet gave her some administrative papers to sign. The Purifiers also told her some advice so that Arin would not embarrass herself as well as entertained her with tales about the marvel of TerraSol.
"Of course," Tamajiang said, "our words are pale in comparison to the real sight. Trust me. Nothing can compare to what humanity has achieved after taking over the system from seraphs and daemons."
There was pride in his voice, as if he was talking about a god. When the sa-serpent reached the destination and Arin stepped out into the ground of the Promethean Ring, she realized the tales were understatements. Her body froze at the sight.
Since 1560, the ancient Solar System with all its planets had been restructured and fortified into a single giga-architecture, held together not only by physical material shaped through human ingenuity but also countless invisible Miracles.
It was composed of three ringworlds encircling ancient Sol, with the reality inside the star having been hollowed out to house Terra. During night time such as now, the Sol layer would retreat away to reveal the planet, though her mortal eyes could hardly capture it.
Reaching over twenty-two million miles in diameter and twenty-five thousand miles in width, Promethean was the largest and outermost component. From where she stood, Arin saw the strip of land curved upward in two directions until it turned too thin for her mortal eyes, sort of like a hammock hanging from the starry sky.
The inner surface of Promethean was packed with forges, workshops, fortresses, and dense housing for the lower strata of TerraSol, most of which were as tall as the governor's palace on Jano, along with rare patches of greenery.
The factories were lighting up and working even during nighttime. Distant bangs of hammer against metal resonated in the air and mixed with noises of packed streets, while countless sa-ravens and other flying beasts or vehicles criss-crossed overheads.
These were merely what was observable, the Purifiers had told her. Hidden beneath material reality were more people traveling via communal Porter Miracles (such as those embedded into the tall wall of liquid gold along the Ring's rims) or dwelling inside the demiplanes anchored here.
And, extending from its bottom outward to the endless void were Sentinel Spires, each capable of outputting the heat of stars against whatever threats approaching TerraSol.
Arin felt a warmth on her shoulder. Tamajiang was tapping it with his sunsteel gauntlet. "I would love to give you more time to sightsee, but you and Manzihlet should be registered first. The Chainbreakers are being stricter about that stuff, given the recent violence."
The Promethean Ring was also where every sa-serpent stopped. To set foot on the other ringworlds and get closer to Terra, travelers must stand in long lines at the Checkpoint to be inspected and registered. The policing was handled by the Chainbreakers – Seraphists and mortals in blue armor that stood out with a cracked bronze pauldron on their left shoulder, whereas the paperwork was handled by the Civil Service, of which Amenemopet was a senior member.
Arin and Manziholet, with her help, could skip the queue. They were brought into a private room with beds, where Amenemopet handed in the signed papers before another group of people arrived with a cart of strange instruments.
Arin laid down on the bed. "Stay very still, please," one of them said to her as his attendant handed him a needle. To her right, Manziholet was also being operated on. "It won't hurt."
He wrote invisible lines on both of her wrists using the needle before doing the same to the part of the skin under her right eye, while occasionally glancing at a piece of paper presented by an attendant. It itched and streaks of black flashed on her vision, which he assured her was fine. "And," he said after a few minutes, "it is done. Try blinking, then read what you see to me."
[Name: Arin Claisara
Sigil: 25-22-Lei-13174399
Haven: Valorborne District, Sui-Jen Ring]
The streaks had organized themselves into coherent words. Arin repeated the information, to which the man nodded. "Your Oculon is working properly, then. Unlike normal messages from Overwatch Miracles, you can dismiss or summon these at will. Once you sign up for other services, more information will be displayed and you can even interact with them." He put the needle away and gave her a manual. "For example, if you open an account at a bank–"
After the registration process was done and Arin had familiarized herself with the Oculon System's basic gestures, they went to one of the Porter platforms inside the Checkpoint and spatially shifted deeper into the next component of TerraSol.
The Sui-Jen Ring's diameter was exactly half of the last ringworld although still built with the same width. It was tilted at forty-five degrees compared to Promethean so that the light and heat of Sol could reach the latter during the day. The sheer amount of life-supporting Miracles already at work made such a design redundant, but waste not want not, the same reason why the builders chose gravity by rotation.
The Purifiers did not step out of the Porter platform. "It's time we parted ways," Tamajiang said. "My knights and I need to return to our Order and release our Ruin Scars. You are safe here. No one will try to harm you on Sui-Jen unless they are very stupid. If you need any help from me, feel free to send a letter. I'll do my utmost to assist."
Tamajiang extended his right arm to her. The Oculon System that governed TerraSol's reality registered his gesture and intent. A notification was sent to her.
[Tamajiang Cyrian (56-21-Xerces-90717115) would like to exchange sigils with you.]
"Thank you, captain. I'll keep that in mind." She accepted his hand and in doing so agreed to the request as well. Their sigil would be saved into their respective Oculon and could be used to send letters via public Overwatch Miracles. To think that if Foidan's grandmother had opted for the 'nope' route instead of the 'why not' detour to the coup, all this luxury could be hers long ago.
[You have exchanged sigil with Tamajiang Cyrian (56-21-Xerces-90717115).]
Tamajiang nodded, and the platform's operator switched it on one more, presumably to bring the Purifiers to the Ausaessig Ring, the final line of defense before Terra. It was much smaller than Promethean (only five and a half million miles in diameter) and spinning perpendicular to it. Yet, Ausaessig was home to all three Imperial Military Orders and their Seraphists, making the act of extinguishing all stars in the galaxy far easier than breaking through its defense.
"He is unmarried," Amenemopet said, "and, after all these years working with him, I know when Tamajiang likes a girl."
"A marriage is the last thing I need at the moment, High Scribe. Also, I'm too old to be considered a girl."
"Age is deceptive on TerraSol, especially for people like us." She flicked at the wrinkles on her forehead. "These are not compulsory. They only exist because I allow them to, like men grooming their beard. Let's get you and your son settled down first, then I will instruct you more."
So began Arin's new life on TerraSol. It was overwhelming, she must admit, even years later. Yet, like Tabbat in the Tragedy of the Well who managed to lead a nation while being illiterate, she had learned to take advantage of the Miracles and studied the people here. Most of them, as she pleasantly found out, were no superior than her (naive, even, having been cradled like children since forever).
As for Foidan, she received no direct contact except rare gossip and second-handed news from Zaicaster. From what she gathered, he was doing just fine as a member of the Saint Masser's Brotherhood. Their son Gothlow, of course, was safe and sound and had acquired a taste for collecting rare birds. She made sure to send him one on each of his birthdays.
His brother Manziholet grew up under her careful watch, though he had this stubborn rebellious streak, presumably inherited from his paternal line. The more mature the boy was, the more his face reminded her of Foidan, with the well-defined cheekbones and the straight nose. And soon, when Manziholet reached the age of fifteen, it was time for him to die.