Yoshua and Marcus sat in one of Ibris' finest transports, weaving through the decaying streets of District 2. Once a hub of activity, the district now lay in disrepair, its ancient buildings deteriorating into relics of a forgotten era. Homeless halfbreeds and humans lingered in the shadows, while flickering neon advertisements sputtered, barely clinging to life. Drug dealers and shady buyers conducted their business under the unstable glow of broken signs. The chaotic energy of the streets was undeniable.

The air inside the vehicle was heavy with unspoken tension, neither man willing to break the silence. With Marcus' usual security absent, Yoshua had reluctantly agreed to accompany him. It also gave him a reason to put some space between himself and Kaya and Mazi after what he had stumbled upon—something he'd rather not dwell on.

Ibris, of course, had flatly refused to come. Yoshua knew better than to press the issue—after all, Ibris had walked away from his position as an acolyte at the Grand Citadel during the war, harboring a bitterness that bordered on contempt.

While Yoshua had his own reservations about the Atlantean state religion, he was keenly aware that Ibris had come to despise the Nori religion, loathing its teachings. "It's a joke," Ibris would say. "A way to opiate the masses. There's nothing more to it." Once, in a rare moment of candor, he'd even claimed that the Gab Nori was nothing but ancient Atlantean technology, based on an ancient A.I. they couldn't decrypt. "The mystery," he said, "persisted only because no one truly understood it." To Ibris, the Nori faith he had once served now seemed like nothing more than a hypocritical construct, a tool for control cloaked in the guise of divine reverence. The idea of setting foot in a temple again was unthinkable to Ibris.

That bitterness had only cemented when he joined the new King's army during the war. Rising to lead the first battalion of the rebellion, Ibris became a war hero. While many believed he fought to champion halfbreed rights, Yoshua knew the truth—Ibris hoped their rebellion against the Nori Queen would dismantle her reign and her religion. To his dismay, while the Queen fell, the Nori religion endured. The newly crowned King Earlem saw political advantage in preserving the old faith, even as most knew he held little regard for Nori traditions.

Yoshua was surprised at Marcus' request to visit a temple. He had never known Marcus to be a religious man—or even remotely interested in a spiritual life. The Marcus he knew was pragmatic to a fault, a man of logic and precision, not faith. But then again, Marcus had always been shrouded in layers of secrecy, guarding parts of himself from everyone. Perhaps it was these carefully hidden aspects that fueled the lingering mistrust both Yoshua and Ibris felt toward him.

Yoshua touched his chest, as the transport glided through the neon-lit streets of the District 2. The IV system Joher and Dr. Dubay had formulated for him was working. As soon as the liquid had entered his veins, he had felt an immediate relief, and the wound in his chest not only stopped bleeding but also appeared to have healed rapidly, almost aggressively. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't just awaiting death, but wondered what his future might hold.

"Marcus," Yoshua finally asked, breaking the silence, "why are we going to the temple?"

It was as if Marcus had not heard him. Marcus sat motionless, his military-grade tablet resting on the seat next to him. His head rested against the seat, eyes closed, face calm and composed. The fleeting neon light from the streets outside slid across his features, highlighting the angular lines of his jaw and the faint traces of age in his auburn hair streaked with gray. His breathing was slow, deliberate, almost rhythmic—like someone entirely tuned into something far beyond the present moment.

Yoshua frowned but said nothing more. It was clear Marcus was elsewhere.

The transport came to a halt, its low sound fading into silence.

Yoshua glanced outside at the Temple of Ashurban, an ancient structure nestled between massive high-rise buildings of District 2.

Legend held that the Temple of Ashurban was the first temple built in the Underworld, one of twelve constructed by the ancient Atlanteans during the city's early days. Unlike its eleven counterparts, which had long since crumbled into neglect, taken over by vagrants or repurposed as fronts for crime rings and brothels, the Temple of Ashurban remained untouched. It stood apart, a sanctuary of Nori reverence amid the decaying grandeur and neon-drenched anarchy of the Underworld.

The temple's weathered stone façade was etched with glowing bioluminescent glyphs that shimmered faintly in greens and blues, a stark contrast to the neon chaos of the Underworld. Towering angular pillars framed the entrance, their carved symbols illuminated by flickering panels of light. Massive black double doors stood at the center, emblazoned with shifting emblems that seemed alive under the glow of the city's holographic ads.

Around the temple, high-rises loomed like sentinels, their mirrored windows reflecting the sprawling skyline. In the narrow courtyard, offerings of flowers, scrawled prayers, and glowing shards of tech lay scattered—a testament to the few believers who still visited.

Marcus opened his eyes. "Did you say something?" He asked Yoshua, as if waking from a deep sleep.

Yoshua hesitated, wanting to repeat his question, but instead shook his head silently.

"Ah, there it is," Marcus said, evenly, fixed on the towering obsidian doors ahead. He turned to Yoshua. "Are you coming?"

"No," Yoshua said, shaking his head. "I'm not much for Nori religion."

"Really?" Marcus paused, clearly astonished, and rubbed the back of his head. "I always took you for a devout man."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Yoshua replied briskly. "I am a Kahkati tribesman. We are devoted to the Great Mother."

"Ah, yes," Marcus said. "The Great Mother. She's not quite the same as our Ava Nori, is she?" He asked, curiously, as he examined the intricate carvings adorning the temple walls.

"She's not too different either," Yoshua replied, curtly. He had no interest in diving into the comparisons between the two religious traditions this evening.

"And what does the Kahkati tribe think about the Gab Nori?" Marcus asked, his fingers lightly tracing the smooth surface of the transport's window as he glanced at the temple.

Yoshua paused, carefully choosing his words. "The Kahkati believe that most technology is evil," he began, firmly. "In our tribe, it's believed that technology brings a sickness to the soul—"

"So, the Gab Nori is considered evil?" Marcus interrupted, incredulously.

"I didn't say that," Yoshua replied, calmly. "The Kahkati tradition is probably as old as the Nori religion. There is respect there, but our people largely keep away from the Gab Nori—just as they do from most technology."

Marcus, appearing thoughtful, finally said, "I suppose they would." It was as if he was only now beginning to grasp the depth of the Kahkati people's beliefs. "There are similar tribal groups in Alemuria. I wonder if there's a connection," Marcus murmured, more to himself than to Yoshua.

"Perhaps there is. People do migrate." Yoshua replied, knowing that experience better than most. He paused, his sharp gaze settling on Marcus. "Why are you here today, Marcus?" He finally asked again.

Marcus shook his head, acknowledging the question, and paused for a moment, as if weighing how much to share. "As you know, we have been attempting to gauge how best to treat Geshar," Marcus said, pensively. "It is safe to assume he was being used as a fuel source for the obelisk structure in the South."

Yoshua's mind flashed back to that day—the horrific state they had found Geshar in and the chaos that followed.

"I have been researching the connection between ancient Atlantean technology and halfbreed blood. One of Ibris' contacts suggested there might even be a link between the ancient sky gods and halfbreeds."

Yoshua raised an eyebrow. That was new information.

"I've been working with a scholar at Bayhan University—Zack Adar, brilliant guy," Marcus explained. "We've been cross-referencing research papers, some of which were only recently declassified. What's strange is how often these studies reference the Gab Nori verses."

Yoshua's ear twitched. Marcus was telling the truth, wasn't he? Yet something in Yoshua's body—instinct or otherwise—signaled doubt.

Marcus paused, seemingly lost in thought, before continuing. "Zack sent me a series of verses to cross-reference. We're hoping they might hold clues—something to help us understand Geshar's condition and maybe even how to treat it."

Research. That sounded plausible, but something about Marcus' demeanor did not sit well with Yoshua. So he simply grunted, "okay."

"Alright, then, hold tight. I'll be back shortly," Marcus said, rushing into the temple.

Yoshua sat in the transport, scanning the streets outside for any potential trouble. A canine halfbreed passed by, his tall, lean frame shrouded in a patched cloak that barely concealed his animalistic features. His tail swayed behind him, brushing against the grimy pavement. Yoshua's sharp eyes followed him until he disappeared into an alleyway.

To Yoshua's surprise, the silence inside the transport was broken by the sharp ping of Marcus' tablet. Marcus forgot his tablet? That was unlike him. Yoshua glanced at the device but hesitated, unsure whether to pick it up. Yet the notification demanded attention. The screen illuminated with a message from Ibris: "Have a list of Khoraz facilities. Let's use the Nexus Umbra system—might help track Esa's movements."

Yoshua sighed, his fingers hovering over the screen before finally picking up the tablet. Yoshua wondered—had Marcus deliberately left the tablet or simply forgotten?

Yoshua entered the temple's grand foyer, where the air was heavy with reverence. Flickering votive lights illuminated polished black marble floors and intricate carvings along the walls, depicting ancient Nori traditions. Two halfbreeds knelt near the far walls of the foyer, their heads bowed in silent prayer before ornate depictions of the old Nori Queen, believed by many to be a living image of Ava Nori herself.

Pushing through another set of towering, carved doors, Yoshua stepped into the inner sanctum. The contrast with the crumbling streets of District 2 was stark—this space was pristine, sacred, and untouched by time. At the far end stood a massive statue of the Ava Nori, her outstretched hands carved in glowing white stone, radiating quiet power. Beneath the statue, a raised dais held the Gab Nori, a metallic small tablet.

Marcus stood before the Gab Nori, his hands pressed firmly against its surface. Yoshua understood how rare it was for a common Atlantean to gain access to the Gab Nori, especially in the Underworld. This was no ordinary privilege—it was special treatment, reserved for a sky god. Few could afford entry into the inner sanctum, let alone interact with the Gab Nori itself—or whatever it was that Marcus was doing.

Marcus' posture was unnaturally rigid, his head tilted back slightly, and his eyes rolled upward, giving him an almost inhuman appearance. The Gab Nori emitted a low, steady hum that grew louder, reverberating through the sanctum with an unsettling resonance. Yoshua had never heard such a sound from a Gab Nori before. Yoshua leaned against a wall, silently observing Marcus, who appeared to be processing something far beyond human understanding.

Beside Marcus stood the temple priestess, her hands clasped just below her chest. An owl halfbreed, she had feathered arms that shimmered faintly under the sanctum's light and long black hair that framed her sharp features. Her large golden eyes, owl-like and piercing, remained fixed on Marcus with an intense, ethereal focus. She wore flowing robes, simple yet regal, with graceful draping that echoed the styles of the sky gods.

She stood motionless, her expression one of awe, as though she were witnessing something divine or utterly beyond comprehension.

After what felt like a long moment, Marcus exhaled sharply and stepped back from the Gab Nori. "Thank you, Anu, that will be all for today."

Marcus' body relaxed, his pupils returning to focus. The priestess immediately bowed deeply, her voice reverent. "Lord Sumeri, I hope our temple's services were to your satisfaction."

Marcus nodded, his composure steady. "A donation will be sent to this temple shortly. Thank you for accommodating my... unique request."

The priestess bowed again, her feathered arms trembling slightly with reverence. Marcus descended the dais, walking purposefully toward Yoshua, who straightened from the wall.

"Sir, you cannot be here," the priestess said sharply, as she moved her hands in a subtle motion. From the shadows of the inner sanctum, human guards emerged, their presence imposing. They were clad in armor of polished bronze, with flowing crimson capes draped over one shoulder. Their helmets, adorned with crests resembling plumes, gave them an air of authority. Each held a long spear with precision, their movements disciplined and deliberate.

"He's with me," Marcus said, calm but commanding, waving his hand dismissively. At his gesture, the guards silently retracted into the shadows, their spears lowered, their gaze still watchful.

Yoshua, taking in the strange scene, asked, "What was that?"

Marcus cast a fleeting glance at the priestess and the Gab Nori, then turned to Yoshua without answering. Instead, he walked past Yoshua. "Let's go," he said, sharply.

Yoshua followed him through the inner sanctum doors, then through the temple entrance to the transport.

Once inside the transport, Yoshua handed Marcus the tablet, frowning. "There's a message from Ibris you should see."

Marcus took the tablet, ignoring eye contact with Yoshua. His fingers brushed over the screen as he quickly scanned the message. "Ah, I see," he muttered. 

Yoshua studied him carefully, noting the faint flicker of something—relief, perhaps?—cross Marcus' face.

"What were you doing in there?" Yoshua asked, again. 

Marcus remained silent, fixed on the tablet. "I told you—research," he said.

With that, the transport started its journey towards the Clinic.

"Did you know," Marcus said, breaking the silence, "that the temple we visited houses the only Gab Nori left in the Underworld?" He stroked his beard thoughtfully, feigning polite conversation.

"Really?" Yoshua asked, with skepticism. "What about the other eleven temples?"

"Anu, the priestess of Ashurban, mentioned that after two Gab Noris went missing during the war—probably scooped up by some Underworld mobster—the royal family had the remaining removed to the Grand Citadel for safekeeping," Marcus explained, his voice distant.

"Hm," Yoshua muttered in response. There was no point in engaging Marcus now—he was deflecting, and Yoshua knew it.

But that's how things worked in Atlantis—the powerful dictated what the people believed and thought. It had always been that way. Yoshua had long grown accustomed to it. That's why he never ventured too close to the ideologies or technology of the sky gods; he didn't trust them, any of them. Perhaps that was why he and Dariq had found peace and shared values among the Kahkati people, whose simple, grounded way of life resonated deeply with them.

"Don't you think," Yoshua said against his better judgement, "that the Gab Nori is a violation of the laws of Humrab?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow, amused. "What a thought! It may very well be," he said with a smirk, glancing out at the provocative holographic images flickering outside the window. Shaking his head, he added, "You know what's really strange? Zack and I were just talking about the laws of Humrab this morning. You two would get along."

"He sounds wise," Yoshua said, knowing how little regard most had for the laws of Humrab. "So, did you find a link between halfbreeds and the ancient sky gods?"

Marcus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I don't know yet," he replied, evasively.

Yoshua frowned at Marcus' cryptic response but decided he was done pressing him for answers. The transport descended into the Clinic's tunnel, gliding smoothly into the parking bay of its research floors. The faint sound of the vehicle came to a halt, and the dim overhead lights illuminated the cement environment around them.

As they stepped into the Clinic, they noticed Ibris in the first room, his large horns hunched over one of the workstations, data streaming rapidly across multiple holographic screens.

Before they could approach him, Dr. Dubay intercepted them, closely examining Yoshua's torso and overall demeanor. "You're responding better than I expected," she said.

Yoshua offered a faint smile.

Dr. Dubay returned his smile but kept her tone firm. "Don't overdo it. Your body still needs time to heal."

Zeru appeared without warning and began scanning Yoshua with a handheld device. "Diagnostics confirm an 18% improvement in function," Zeru stated. "However, additional infusions will be required to maintain progress." The android added.

Marcus, meanwhile, had already slipped into the room with Ibris. The two were deep in a hushed, intense conversation, their voices low but their gestures animated.

Stepping around Zeru, Yoshua made his way toward the heated exchange. Anything was better than continuing to discuss his health.

"You're wrong," Ibris said, his words clipped, as he pointed to a glowing section of the map. "The islands off the coast of Monika City make the most sense. Those facilities are ideal for keeping someone with Esa's abilities isolated. That's where they've taken Esa."

Marcus shook his head, firmly. "The islands are too obvious. They're being monitored by both the Atlantean and Alemurian militaries, and the Khoraz aren't reckless."

"How do you know the Atlantean military isn't in on it with the sky gods?" Ibris shot back, remembering very well it was Atlantean special ops that Yoshua had encountered in his home in Cupta.

Marcus gave him a measured look. "For one, the Khoraz and the royals aren't exactly on good terms. The Atlantean military wouldn't move without the king's approval— I have access to one of his cabinet members, you see."

Ibris scoffed, "That means nothing. The sky gods change their minds and allegiances like the direction of the wind."

Marcus shook off the insult. "Even if that's not the case," he added, leaning back slightly, "I have access to both military feeds. If there was something, it would've come up. There's nothing."

"Of course you do," Ibris muttered, shaking his head with disbelief.

Yoshua watched the exchange, his eyes flicking between Ibris and Marcus as he considered the implications.

"They'd go somewhere no one's watching, you're right about that," Marcus insisted, his resolve unwavering. "Somewhere no one would think to look. The Western Lands are the most logical choice."

Yoshua narrowed his focus onto Marcus. There was something in the man's expression—a flicker of certainty beneath his composed demeanor, a sense of knowing he wasn't fully sharing. Marcus knew something, and Yoshua could see it, even if he wasn't ready to say it outright.

Ibris scoffed, in frustration. "The Western Lands?" He repeated with incredulity. "You're suggesting they'd hide him in a wasteland crawling with raiders and warlords? That's insanity."

But Yoshua wasn't convinced that Ibris' anger was directed at Marcus' logic. It was the place itself—the Western Lands. He'd heard the story before, pieced together from whispers and fragments Ibris had let slip over the years. Serene's death. A day that had shattered him.

She had gone into labor two months too early while Ibris was away in the Western Lands, finalizing a contract with a local warlord. The Western Lands were a desolate, lawless expanse a few hundred miles from Bayhan City. Most Atlanteans didn't bother to ask what happened there—it was a place most preferred to forget. The sky gods saw no benefit in patrolling the area, deeming it too barren and chaotic to be worth their attention. With no police funding, no governance, and no oversight, it had become a free-for-all, a land ruled by warlords and opportunists. It was the untamed edge of Atlantis—a place where fortunes were made, alliances forged, and lives extinguished, often without consequence.

Ibris had gotten caught up in a particularly extensive fight with that warlord's gang, a conflict that dragged on for nearly a week. By the time he returned to the Underworld, exhausted and battered, it was too late. He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. Serene had already passed, her body buried before he even knew what had happened. The weight of it crushed him—knowing he wasn't there when she needed him most. The guilt lingered like a shadow he couldn't shake, a constant reminder of the life he had failed to save.

He had been told that the baby hadn't made it either. But there was no separate grave, no tangible proof of the child's existence. Just whispers and vague assurances from those who had been there. Yoshua knew that some part of Ibris still clung to the faint, impossible hope that the baby had survived—that one day, somehow, he would meet him.

Yoshua watched as Ibris exhaled deeply, the memories still haunting him.

"It's strategy," Marcus countered, cutting through the tension. "You know as well as I do how easy it is to vanish out there. No oversight. No rules. They're smart, according to your sources records, they've already set up extensive operations in one of the abandoned cities."

Marcus paused, scanning the glowing holographic map in front of him. "When I cross-referenced the data with the Nexus Umbra system," Marcus continued, referring to the radar system capable of detecting life forms across Atlantis, "hold on... that's unusual. There are a few larger structures—one circular structure, fortified on all sides. Whatever it is, the Khoraz is using it to gather a massive number of people."

The description sending a chill down Yoshua's spine. It reminded him of the war, of how halfbreeds had been rounded up by the Queen's army, corralled like cattle into open fields, and butchered in horrifying numbers. The memory was a scar he carried deeply, and Marcus' words brought it back with vivid clarity.

Yoshua's wolf-like gaze shifted between the two men. He didn't need Ibris to explain his hesitation. The weight of it was written all over his face. Marcus' argument made sense, and Ibris knew it. But that didn't make it any easier for Ibris.

Yoshua let out a quiet breath, stepping back from the tense exchange between Ibris and Marcus. He had heard enough. Deep down, he knew Marcus was right—the Western Lands made the most sense. But he also knew Ibris. The bull-headed man needed to come to that conclusion on his own, without being pushed. Forcing it would only ignite more resistance. With a final glance at the holographic map glowing between them, Yoshua turned and walked away, letting their voices fade into the background.

The hallway ahead was silent, the sterile air of the Clinic cool against his skin. He scanned the surroundings as he walked, his boots clicking faintly against the polished floors. Yoshua wondered where Kaya was and began to walk towards baby Kiran's room.

The hum of the Clinic's machinery and the distant echo of Marcus and Ibris' debate faded further behind him as he rounded a corner. Then he saw them.

Emerging from one of the labs were Kaya and Mazi. Yoshua stopped in his tracks, as he took in the scene. Kaya's dress hem was awkwardly lopsided, one shoulder slightly slipping from her shoulder. Her usually neat hair was an unruly mess, strands sticking out in every direction. She had a silly grin on her face, one that Yoshua rarely saw.

Mazi wasn't faring much better. His shirt was wrinkled, his sleeves hastily rolled up and uneven. His brown hair was tousled, his usual composure absent. He was relaxed—far too relaxed for someone whose best friend was taken by the Khoraz.

Yoshua's eyes widened, the realization hitting him like a slap. He blinked once, then twice, his usually sharp demeanor faltering as the awkwardness of the moment hung thick in the air. Kaya's gaze met his, her face flushing immediately, and Mazi froze like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uncle," Kaya stammered, unusually high-pitched. "We were just—uh—cleaning some, um, equipment."

Mazi nodded vigorously, though his face was equally red. "Yes. Equipment. Very... advanced equipment," he mumbled, his words tripping over themselves as he tried to sound casual.

Yoshua's looked between the two of them, his brow furrowing slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again, his jaw tightening. Finally, without saying a word, he turned on his heel, his movements sharp and deliberate.

"Uncle?" Kaya called after him nervously, but Yoshua didn't stop.

"Ava Nori..." Mazi added, weakly, his voice trailing off as Yoshua disappeared down the hall.

Yoshua power-walked down the hall, his boots hitting the floor with a purpose. He frowned deeply, refusing to look back.

As he neared the room where Marcus and Ibris were still debating, he noticed that Joher had joined them. Yoshua let out a long breath, composing himself. But even as he reentered the room, he couldn't shake the mental image of his niece and Mazi.

Yoshua's lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped back into the conversation. For now, he decided, he'd let it go. There were bigger things to worry about—like helping Geshar and finding Esa.

As Yoshua entered the room, Ibris finally threw up his hands in reluctant acceptance. "Looks like we're going to the Western Lands," Ibris muttered.

Marcus, standing over the glowing holographic map projected mid-air, nodded briskly. "We should move quickly. The Nexus Umbra system is showing a significant surge in lifeform signatures at several Western Lands Khoraz facilities," he said, pointing at a dense cluster of glowing red dots on the map. Nearby, smaller tabs floated, displaying detailed charts, population counts, and the facilities' structural layout.

"I'm coming with you," Joher declared, "my family may be there."

Yoshua nodded absently, barely acknowledging Joher's words. His mind was still reeling as he struggled to center himself. He shook his head sharply, as if trying to physically dislodge the lingering thoughts.

Just then, the door to the room slid open, and Mazi and Kaya entered awkwardly.

Ibris glanced up, his brown eyes narrowing as they flicked between Mazi and Kaya. His lips curled into a sly grin before he let out a quiet laugh.

Joher, however, remained utterly oblivious. His focus on Yoshua, but only with the concern of a healer. "You look pale," he said, gently. "Are you feeling alright? I should check your vitals."

Marcus glanced up from the map and saw Kaya and Mazi, exhaling slowly as he rubbed his temple. "Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head.

No one said another word, but the tension in the room was palpable. Kaya avoided looking directly at anyone, her cheeks burning red, while Mazi simply stood there, his posture stiff, trying to appear nonchalant but failing miserably.

Finally, Yoshua broke the silence, sharp and cutting. "Let's go get our people."