Nothing Is True 041 (Patreon)

"We need to accelerate the Conclaves. We need more of them, and they need to happen faster.” was how Lexa started the meeting of those ‘in the know’ twenty-four hours after Raven and Octavia had finally been able to leave the infirmary long-term.

The grounders present -consisting of Lexa, Kostia, all of the Chosen, Niylah, plus Anya, Indra, and Titus- all nodded in firm -eager, in some cases, most particularly Niylah’s- agreement, voicing sounds or statements of assent following, and why wouldn’t they? It was ingrained in their culture to damn near worship the ground that Clarke walked on, and it was a central pillar of that same culture that every generation gathered the best and brightest of it’s women together in order to prepare for her inevitable arrival. So, naturally, now that she’d arrived, it was perfectly reasonable to flesh out the ranks of the Chosen so that they’d have -to use a tweaked Old World phrase- a sufficient number of hands on deck. Above and beyond ensuring a strong dynasty, which was of course of preeminent importance, there was also the fact that having more Chosen devoted wholly to Clarke would provide the blonde girl with a corps group of supporters and trusted individuals that could be relied on come hell or high water.

“Likewise, we need to keep Clarke’s identity, her nature as Pramheda’s heir, secret for the time being. Or at least not announce it. The moment that people realize the Sky Princess is here, we’ll be drowning in young women sent specifically to seduce her. Conclave aspirants, in their lack of knowledge, are currently signing up because they believe in it. Those are the people we want to call sister.” Ontari added.

“There are several aspirants that I would be pleased to call sister. Echo, in particular, is more than worthy. Had I not been one of her earliest opponents, she very likely would have won this Conclave.” Caris remarked thoughtfully, head tilted slightly to the side.

“And for more practical considerations, having another Azgeda Chosen will help temper Nia’s worst impulses.” Indra grunted, scarred arms folded across her chest, and it was at this point that Clarke drew attention to herself with an incredulous sound.

“I’m sorry, are you all really planning on keeping things secret for a while longer, just to try and get me more girls? Because that’s really what this boils down to, yeah? More Chosen means more people that are intended to be my lovers, my wives. Don’t I…isn’t our family big enough as it is? I’m happy, more than happy, with all of you! I don’t need you to go around collecting more for me!” she protested, and promptly found herself on the receiving end of looks that ranged from fond, to amused, to incredulous.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was warm, patient, the particular tone she used when she was about to explain something that she felt should have been obvious but wasn’t going to be so gauche as to say so directly. She reached across the table to take one of Clarke’s hands in her own, thumb stroking gently across the knuckles. “This isn’t only about your bed, or your heart, though I won’t pretend those don’t matter to me a great deal. This is about the future. Our future, and the future of every soul beneath the sky, or above it.”

“The Conclave has never simply been about finding you wives, Clarke. At least, not just wives.” Ontari agreed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees as she met Clarke’s eyes. “It’s about finding you support, about making sure that you will have a solid cadre of people that you can trust and rely on to help you reshape the world.”

“Obviously, growing and spreading your bloodline is of paramount importance.” Titus added, ignoring the looks he immediately got from just about everyone else in the room, his expression serene but his eyes sharp. “But even for the daughter of prophecy, being everywhere at all times is impossible. Your Chosen will hear for you, see for you, speak for you, and kill for you, all in the places that you can’t be.”

“Can’t I just…choose Echo, if you think she’s such a good fit for me? If we’re picking more people that I’m going to end up married to.” Clarke’s tone was meandering in the direction of acerbic now, though she quelled somewhat when Octavia put a hand on her arm.

“I’m a little bit out of my depth down here, but I can guess. If you just pick her, she’ll be viewed as less than the others. It’s weird, since you’d think being hand-picked by you would actually increase her standing, but she won’t have proven herself the way the others did. It would look like she’d been picked purely for politics, or looks.” she hazarded, throwing a quick glance in the direction of the ‘others’ in question, who were giving her appraising and pleased looks in response.

“Exactly so.” Anya spoke for the first time, her expression approving as she regarded Octavia with a new measure of respect, and consideration. “The sky girl grasps it quickly enough. Winning the Conclave is proof. Proof of skill, of dedication, of worthiness. To be chosen without earning that proof would mean spending the rest of her life under a thick cloud. Echo would resent it, in time, even if she loved you. And the people would never quite trust and respect her the way they do the others.”

Clarke sighed, long and heavy, dragging her free hand down her face as she slumped back in her seat. It was the sigh of a woman that really wanted to continue arguing the point, but was well aware it would be argument for the sake of argument, and be more akin to pettiness than anything particularly useful or productive.

“Fine. More Conclaves, then. But those stop when we start gettign ready to bring the Ark down, alright? The last thing I need to be dealing with when The Council arrives, when I’m trying to get everyone integrated, is people I barely know introducing themselves to everyone as my wives and the mothers of my future children.” she conceded, before eyeing Raven as the other girl grinned in what was, to her, an entirely uncalled for fashion. “And just what are you so happy about?”

“Oh, I just can’t wait to see what Zoe and Harper have to say about your harem when they get down here. The first thing they’ll do is beg you to take them to bed. The second thing they’ll do is square up with your girls down here and see where they stand. The Cult of Clarke can’t be denied, after all!”

“The Cult of Clarke.” Clarke repeated flatly, pinching the bridge of her nose as a chorus of curious sounds and interested looks rippled around the table. Of course they’d latched onto that particular phrase. Of course they had. “Raven, I swear to God—”

“What is this ‘Cult of Clarke’?” Kostia asked, leaning forward with obvious interest, her red hair catching the light as she tilted her head. There was something almost gleefully predatory in her smile, benign though it looked to those ignorant of her wickedness. It was the expression of someone who had just been handed a delightful new piece of leverage against a beloved friend.

“It’s nothing, just a dumb joke from back up on the Ark, she’s being an idiot, just ignore her.” Clarke pleaded, somewhat desperately. Fruitlessly, given the fact that her attempt at deflection and dismissal of the subject only visibly interested everyone in the room. Interest that demanded an explanation, one that Raven was only too happy to provide, in detail.

“Oh, no, it’s a whole thing.” Raven leaned forward, resting her chin in one hand and grinning at Clarke with all the malicious delight of a woman who had waited years for exactly this moment. “See, back on the Ark, Clarke had this way about her. Doesn’t matter if you were older, younger, guard, mechanic, doctor, whatever. She’d look at you, really look at you, and suddenly you just...wanted to do whatever she said. Not because she made you. Because you wanted her to be proud of you.”

“That’s just called being a good leader.” Clarke muttered, though her ears were crimson, the color only deepning as Octavia spoke up again.

“It wasn’t just that. You all know my story, and you know what Clarke did for me. There are dozens of stories like that, all over the Ark. The Skybox…” she shook her head, scoffing out a laugh. “I wasn’t ever in there, thanks to Clarke, but the things I saw when I visited? People hated their lives, they hated the Ark, and they all knew they were likely to die the minute they turned 18. They’d all just given up, but Clarke? The minute she was in there, she pulled them together. Gave them a purpose again. Protected them, pushed back against the Council and the guards, laid down the law when people caused trouble.”

She looked at Clarke, eyes bright.

“It might have started as a joke, an insult, Clarke. But the majority of the Skybox kids? The people that don’t slum around with Murphy? They worship the ground you walk on. They adore you, they revere you. Do you have any idea of how many of your little sayings have become literal gospel, especially with the younger girls? Their parents? They look at their kids and have a hope that they’ll actually survive their retrials. You never would have done it, but…” she shook her head, smiling slightly. “Clarke, you could have walked into the Council chamber and declared a coup, and I bet the vast majority of the Ark would have cheerfully helped it happen.”

The room was silent for a long moment, every eye on Clarke’s embarrassed but proud visage, and why shouldn’t she be proud? The Skybox kids had been dead inside before she’d taken over. They’d seen no purpose in the future, hell most of them hadn’t seen much purpose in the present besides sex and fighting. She’d wanted them to have more, and that’s exactly what she’d striven to give them.

The rest of it, well, that was…

“So, perhaps your sky people aren’t entirely without good sense, if they can recognize someone destined to rule even without Pramheda’s Wisdoms.” Indra remarked, sounding surprised enough -despite the evenness of her tone- that the three sky-born young women should probably have been offended by, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was right.

“Kassandra would probably say that it has something to do with my heritage. Even before she…woke me up, I guess, it probably had some effect on me and the people around me. Which is what worries me.” Clarke sighed, ignoring the embarrassment and opting to rub her face instead, before slapping her thighs and moving the subject along firmly. “Alright, so. More Conclaves. Fine. Now what about the Senate? What about Raven and Octavia? All your tutoring aside, if I’m supposed to be running things, I need hands-on experience with the government beyond my wives. But if we’re not telling everyone who I am, how are we supposed to explain me being there?”

“We don’t. You’re my guest, have been for months, and Senate meetings are not closed except for rare circumstances. It wouldn’t be unusual for you and Niylah to attend, and even if anyone starts to speculate on your identity, it will be speculation. We confirm nothing until we see fit and let the rumors be what they are. Besides, most of them don’t even believe in the Prophecy anymore. They hate the idea of losing their power to any degree.” Lexa responded, sounding entirely unconcerned by the situation, though she looked pleased every time Clarke referred to her as ‘wife’. To be fair, Clarke looked pleased to say it, even if she looked a bit embarrassed as well. “After each meeting, we’ll come back here to the palace and go over all of it together.”

“We Chosen will be there too, so we can have a proper discussion about it as a group.” Ontari chimed in, tilting her head towards Kostia. “I’m sure Kostia has helped Leksa through many situations, and is probably able to provide plenty of intimate advice.”

There was a not-particularly-subtle double-entendre there, and more than one of the younger minds went to the idea of a sensual post-political debriefing. For two of them, it was fond reminiscence. For the others, it was eager anticipation.

“Well, unless we have anything else to talk about, I don’t suppose anyone could tell me where to find Kassandra? I’ve got some questions for her about a few things…” Octavia asked, leadingly, and Clarke nodded.

“Yeah, she’s down at one of the private training grounds. Have one of the servants escort you, they’ll know the way.”

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The private training ground was tucked away in a quiet corner of the palace grounds, walled off from the rest of the world by high stone and thick hedges, and Octavia found Kassandra there exactly as promised when the servant acting as her guide bowed her through the entrance. The ancient woman -God, it was still insane to think about the fact that Kassandra was more than two-thousand years old!- was moving through some sort of practice form, a slow and deliberate dance of a blade that caught the afternoon light with every unhurried sweep, her body flowing gracefully from one position to the next.

She didn’t stop when Octavia entered, didn’t so much as glance in her direction or give any physical sign that she even knew the younger girl was there, but Octavia knew even before anyone spoke that her presence had been noted long before she came into view. Somewhat entranced, and feeling rather like she would be intruding if she interrupted, Octavia watched silently for several minutes, until finally Kassandra sheathed her sword with a flourished and turned to regard her.

“You’ve been watching me for a while now, kid. And you didn’t come all this way just to admire my footwork or my sword forms.” Kassandra observed, her tone dry but not unkind, dark eyes glinting with an amusement that was so similar, and yet so different, from that which she showed when she was teasing Clarke. “So. What is it you want from me?”

Octavia squared her shoulders, lifting her chin in a gesture that Kassandra couldn’t help but note was reminiscent of the way Clarke carried herself when she’d made up her mind about something. Interesting, that, but ultimately unsurprising. She was helplessly in love with the golden-haired girl and revered her as an idol to emulate, so the fact that she’d subconsciously picked up on some of Clarke’s mannerisms or speech patterns just made sense.

“I want you to train me.” she announced, sounding almost defensive as she said the words, visibly nervous and trying to pretend that she wasn’t. “I want to learn how to fight. I want to know how to protect Clarke from anyone and anything. This new world, this future that she and the others are planning, I want to be a part of it. I can’t, won’t, be some sort of politician or something. And as much as I love Clarke, I can’t be happy just…being one of her lovers, being decorative. I need to be useful.”

“I’m sure that plenty of people would disagree with the idea that being one of her lovers, holding her and comforting her and loving her, isn’t useful. Niylah, at the very least, might object strongly. Or cry.” Kassandra observed, even more dryly, and Octavia winced immediately, opening her mouth but cutting her protest off when Kassandra held up a hand. “I know that’s not what you meant, but it’s something to keep in mind going forward. You also need to keep in mind that I’m not a Chosen. I’m not even really a member of the clans. I wouldn’t be teaching you to be one of them.”

“Then what would you be teaching me?” Octavia asked, brow furrowing slightly, though there was no backing down in her stance. If anything, she leaned into the question, hungry for the answer. “If not one of the Chosen, then what? I know you’re different from them, I saw that with your clan, the way people talk about you. You’re something else, something more connected to Clarke’s family, to her past. These, these Orders or whatever that I’ve heard you guys mention in passing.”

Kassandra was quiet for a long moment, studying the young woman before her with the same eyes -the same experience in evaluation- that had assessed literally countless men and women across the centuries. Warriors, spies, kings and peasants, would-be heroes and dastardly villains, all picked apart one way or another. Finally, she beckoned Octavia after her, turning and leading the way to the far side of the training ground before sinking down onto a low bench and gesturing again for Octavia to join her.

“Sit. This isn’t a conversation to have standing around.”

Octavia obeyed promptly, though she perched on the edge of the bench with a body tense enough that it made Kassandra think of a coiled spring, practically vibrating as she waited. The sight brought a smile to her lips, remembering…so very many people who’d been the same way, at one point or another in their lives. Herself included, all those years ago in Lakonia. Eager and determined, hopeful and fearful in equal measure.

“What you need to understand, Octavia, is just what the Orders are. What they represent, how they began. Thousands upon thousands of years ago, there lived two brothers. Each had different dreams of the future. One of them, Abel, dreamed of a mankind that lived freely and peacefully alongside one another. The other, Cain…he wanted power. He wanted control, and he believed that the best thing for humanity was to be under that control because it would prevent tragedy. So, Cain murdered his brother, and later was killed in turn. But each of them had children, descendants. People who believed in their goals, their methods. Over time, they evolved. In my time, The Cult of Kosmos and The Order of the Ancients worked together to unite the world under Xerxes of Persia, to create an empire of Order that would ‘enlighten’ mankind. I…killed most of them, and eventually had a child. From that child, my son, came Aya. The founder of the Hidden Ones. They eventually became the Brotherhood of the Assassins, while those that survived my war with the Cult and Order became the Knight’s Templar. Or, rather, subverted that Order, corrupting it’s purpose and filling it with their people until it was no longer good by any stretch of the imagination.”

She paused, to breath and give Octavia a moment to absorb what she’d said. Which, frankly, she couldn’t. Not yet. She couldn’t start absorbing it until she knew all of it. When she remained silent, Kassandra took that as an invitation to continue.

“For generations, these two groups, these two ideals, slaughtered each other by the thousands. I cannot begin to tell you how many wars between kings and empires were fought as a result of guidance -overt or otherwise- by one or both. That war eventually culminated in The Last War, the war that almost destroyed humanity. The war your ancestors survived on The Ark, thanks to the Mentor of the Brotherhood, Alexia Griffon.”

“Clarke’s ancestor.” Octavia breathed, the words barely more than a whisper, casting back to what she had learned as a child and in the years since about her Princess’ family. “The general, the one that created the Ark? She was...she was the leader of the Assassins?”

“The Mentor, yes. The one who saw The Last War coming and couldn’t actually put a stop to it, but did everything in her power to ensure that humanity would survive it. The Ark, the Coalition, the ORACLE system. She was behind all of it.” Kassandra confirmed, her voice softening with something that might have been grief, or reverence, or perhaps the two of them and more together. “When she died…when she died, the old Brotherhood died with her. She had a dream that it would be more than it was. She had realized that the Order and the Brotherhood couldn’t ever exist in the same world, but neither of them should be the ones to control it unopposed.”

“Seems kind of contradictory, doesn’t it?” Octavia couldn’t help but ask, frowning faintly. “If they can’t exist at the same time, but neither of them can exist alone?”

“Contradictory, yes. But not impossible.” Kassandra allowed, a slow, knowing smile curling at the corners of her mouth, her eyes a bit distant, a bit sad. “Alexia understood something that neither the Order nor the Brotherhood ever truly grasped in all their thousands of years of slaughter. She understood that both of them were right, and both of them were wrong. The Order wanted control, wanted stability, and yes, sometimes that stability required a firm hand holding it in place through force. But absolute control breeds tyranny, breeds stagnation, breeds the sort of rot that killed empires from the inside out. And the Brotherhood wanted freedom, wanted choice, wanted the freedom for people to live and die by their own decisions. But absolute freedom breeds chaos, breeds anarchy, breeds a world where the strong prey on the weak and might makes right because there’s nothing to stop them. Both of them, in their purest forms, would destroy the world just as surely as the other.”

She leaned back against the stone wall behind the bench, tilting her head up toward the sky where the sun hung low and golden, half-closing her eyes as she soaked in the warmth.

“Alexia dreamed of something in between. Not an Order that controlled the world, and not a Brotherhood that tore all control down, but an organization that served the throne and the people. That protected the throne from those that would seek to tear it down, destroy it, create chaos and destruction. At the same time, they would keep that same throne in check, make sure it never strayed from it’s path. An organization that would protect the people from a tyrant just as readily as they’d protect that tyrants rightful, untainted successor from a usurper. Guards and watchdogs both, servants and judges.”

She turned her gaze back to Octavia, who was watching her with wide-eyes and a partly-opened mouth.

“A new brotherhood, born of two ancient ones. Not intended to tear down thrones, or to prop up rotten ones, but to make sure that the person sitting on that throne never forgets that they serve their people as much as their people serve them, and that they must never mistake power for purpose or justification. That’s what you’re asking me to turn you into, Octavia. A sword that will spill oceans of blood in the name of Clarke and her children, and a sword that will be held to their throats to keep them on the straight and narrow.”

Octavia let out a shuddering breath as that sank in, rubbing her face as her mind spun.

“And Clarke knows about this?” she asked, quite sure she already knew the answer, and Kassandra nodded firmly.

“Yeah, of course she does. And she probably supports the idea to the fucking hilt, doesn’t she?” the younger brunette muttered in response to that nod, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Goddamnit. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

“Appreciate the trust that Clarke would be giving you if you followed through on your request?” Kassandra suggested, getting an incredulous look in response, and she shrugged. “I can’t decide for you, Octavia, but you do understand how important this is too Clarke, right? You love her, she knows that. But she also knows that the same fierce loyalty you have to her personally would drive you to make sure that she stayed true to herself. I’ll be honest with you: as much as I like Lexa and her girls, as much as I know they love Clarke or will come to love her, I don’t think they would truly stand up to her if it came down to it. I don’t think they can. They’d push back, of course they would, and I’m willing to bet she’d have to work hard to browbeat them into submission. But I think that they would submit. Their entire lives have been wrapped up in the prophecy, in the knowledge that she will rule them.”

“You, though?” Kassandra continued, tilting her head as she studied the younger woman. “You didn’t grow up worshiping her as a prophecy come to life, a destined savior. You grew up loving her as a person. As a friend, a leader, someone who saved you when no one else would have bothered. That’s different. That’s the sort of loyalty that would let you stand in her way if she strayed, precisely because you love her too much to watch her become something she’d hate.”

Octavia was quiet for a long moment, her hands clenching and unclenching against her knees as she stared out at the practice ground, at the worn stones and the racks of weapons and the long shadows that were growing longer by the minute.

Then, at last, she spoke, her voice quiet and soft and loving, but iron-clad with determination and unyielding in the decision that had been made.

“You’re right. You’re right about what she would want, and what I would do. That’s exactly why I want to do it. That’s exactly why I have to do it.” She turned to face Kassandra fully, and there was something older than it had any right to be in her eyes now, something forged in years spent hiding beneath a floor and years spent watching the girl she loved carry the weight of hundreds of lives on shoulders that had no business being so strong. “Clarke is the best person I’ve ever known. She’s good, she’s kind, she wants to do the right thing more than anyone I’ve ever met. And that’s exactly why I’m going to be one of the people who joins this new Order. Because when the world is grinding her down, when she’s at risk of losing herself because of her love and protectiveness of our people, I’ll be the one to love and protect her, and make sure she stays herself.”

Kassandra regarded her for a long, silent moment, dark eyes searching Octavia’s face with the weight of two millennia of judgement behind them. Whatever she saw there seemed to satisfy her, because at last she nodded, slowly, with a small and approving smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Good. That’s exactly the answer I hoped for, and exactly the reason you’re worth teaching.” she said, before her expression sharpened, the amusement bleeding away to leave something harder, something colder, in its place. Something that made Octavia straighten reflexively, some primal part of her recognizing that she was in the presence of someone infinitely more dangerous that she was. “But you need to understand, Octavia: this training is going to consume you. It will change you. And it isn’t something you can just walk away from if things get too tough. You’re in, or you’re out.”

“I understand.” Octavia said without hesitation, without doubt. “I don’t want to walk away. I want this. I want to be a part of building something that lasts, something that keeps Clarke safe and keeps the world from tearing itself apart again the way it did before.”

“Do you?” Kassandra pressed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her gaze pinning Octavia in place. “Because ‘wanting’ is easy, kid. Everyone wants things. Wanting is what people do when they’re sitting comfortable and dreaming about who they might be. I’m asking you if you’re willing to bleed for it. To sweat and ache and vomit and wonder if you made the biggest mistake of your life. To wake up in the morning wishing you could die rather than train another day, and then get up and do it anyway. To give up parts of yourself you’ll never get back, when the time comes for it. Because it will come, Octavia. That’s the part everyone forgets when they’re full of fire and idealism. This isn’t a game. This isn’t sparring in the yard until you get tired. When I say I’ll teach you to be a sword, I mean that I will teach you to end lives. To do it quietly, efficiently, without hesitation. And then I will teach you to carry the weight of it afterward, because that’s the part that breaks people. Not the killing. The living with it. So can you do that, Octavia Blake? Can you kill for Clarke? Die for Clarke? Do it without hesitation, and be willing to take her to task if it’s required?”

Octavia didn’t answer immediately. She sat with the question, turned it over, let it settle in deeply the way she suspected Kassandra wanted her to. Because this wasn’t a moment for bravado, snap decisions, or brashness. No, this was the rest of her life here. The thing she’d dedicate the rest of it to, outside of any kids their strange little family might make.

Which would normally be a thought to have her mind going into a blushing lockdown, but that wasn’t going to happen in a moment like this.

“…yeah. Yeah I can.” she finally decided, meeting Kassandra’s eyes and hoping the other woman could see the sincerity, the determination, there. “I’m ready to do whatever it takes. For Clarke.”

“Heh. You mean that, you really do. Good. Come on, then. We’re going to go for a little walk, and then we’re going to have a hell of a talk, you and I.” the mother of the Brotherhood clapped her on the shoulder, firm without being rough, before getting to her feet. “Now come on.”

Octavia popped to her feet and followed, the tension and anxiety of the moment now being quickly and thoroughly edged out by anticipation, excitement and, though she likely wouldn’t have admitted it out loud to anyone, pride. Pride because this woman, thousands of years old, who was in so many ways the person who had helped create the Brotherhood she was about to join, had deemed her worthy. Her, the girl born a crime and raised under a floor.

And all Octavia had wanted, for her whole life, was for people to find her worthy. Worthy of her mother’s sacrifice, her brother’s efforts, Clarke’s protection, the respect that the people gave her.

Worthy of the love.

###################################################################

Nothing had really played out the way that ALIE had planned for it to happen, but she was starting to wonder if it might not be better this way. As…raw, and in many ways unprepared, as Clarke had been when she’d been taken in by The Coalition, it had actually resulted in Clarke endearing herself to Lexa’s people. It had been more genuine, more honest, than if she had been able to more perfectly emulate a member of the tribes and only revealed the truth later on. In fact, that very well could have been dangerously detrimental to the desired end result, since it would have been a significant breech of trust. Certainly more significant than the secrets that had been kept and revealed between the girls the way things had actually played out.

Now, Clarke and the rest of the family she was building was closer than ever, she’d doubtlessly made a hell of an impression on those that lived inside Mount Weather -she monitored them, on occasion, but she and Kassandra had agreed long ago that solving all of Clarke’s problems for her wouldn’t do anyone any good in the long term- through her mercy with Siobhan, and she’d soon enough have plenty of control over her Isu heritage.

Which meant that Avalon would be needed sooner rather than later, because Avalon should be -needed to be- the capitol of mankind’s new empire. It would have the technology needed to cure those twisted by radiation, the technology required to accelerate the recover of the atmosphere, even the technology required to ensure the survival of the Ark when it tried to make planet fall.

And so she reached out. Not to Earth, as she had been for so many centuries. Now, she instead reached down into her ‘self’, and power cores of a similar kind but vastly superior power to those powering the ORACLE System rumbled to life as the ancient, colossal city-ship of Avalon woke. In orbit around Pluto, at the farthest edge of the Sol System, the moon of Charon shattered. Rock and ice built up over many thousands of years crumbled, then was vaporized, revealing gleaming spires and shining glass. Slowly, ever so slowly, it started to move. Propelled by engines beyond human understanding, riding a wave of shaped gravity, it followed the commands of the Avalon Logistical Integrated Entity that lived at it’s heart and began the journey back to the pale blue dot upon which it had been built.