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From the Blurb

Mars is bleeding.
On the furthest edges, towns burn and the Defilers hunt. No man, woman, or child is spared. Something stirs in the dust. Something old. Watching. Waiting.
Miri walks with the weight of a legacy a hundred years in the making. She never asked to carry the burden. But some names don’t wait to be chosen.
Red Dirt concludes in its most haunting chapter yet—a tale of faith, sacrifice, and the weight of choosing who we become.

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II LEGATUM II

Miri’s return to Saint Forsaken was greeted by the songs of its bustling streets and the humming glow of neon lights glinting off the rusted metals of the city. She walked down the street towards a central tower surrounded by the markets, recently refurbished, serving as Raven’s new seat of governance. The scent of burning oils mingled with the faint aroma of food as the clamor of the city filled the air.  

Miri was home.  

She made her way up to the tower with Targ trotting beside her. Miri entered a rotunda buzzing with activity and served as the main command hub. Raven stood at a central console, her attention fixed on a glitchy, holographic map that displayed Saint Forsaken and its surrounding areas.  Raven looked tired as Targ took to her side.  Her legs, now a pair of reinforced, blade-like prosthetics, clinked with every step. Despite her body being ever more machine, her aura and charm still retained the humanity everyone had grown to love. Raven had become quite the leader, but the silver streaks in her hair and sleep deprived eyes showed the toll of her newfound role.  

Raven coughed. 

The rasp had been lingering for weeks and Miri was growing concerned. She approached Raven and saluted playfully. The Extant glanced up and managed a weary smile. Miri recounted the events at the convoy site, detailing the evidence of a Defiler attack and the bodies she recovered for burial. As Miri spoke, a sudden, violent cough overtook Raven, and she pulled back her blood streaked hand. Miri jolted towards her. Raven waved her off, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.  

“I’m fine, half-pint,” Raven uttered. “You did good, hun. Take a breather. I’ll let you know if I need anything, yeah?”  

Miri hesitated as her concern lingered. She gave a reluctant nod and left the tower, but her thoughts stayed on the image of Raven’s bloodied hand. Death was inevitable for the Creators, but this did little to alleviate Miri’s sadness as she dwelled on the thought of Raven’s mortality.  The market offered a brief reprieve. The vibrant maze of stalls and vendors, their wares displayed in a kaleidoscope of colors and textures, ensnared Miri as she wandered the aisles. 

She stopped at a seed grower’s stall, drawn by the vivid blooms of flowers grown in specialized workshops. The vendor, a cheerful woman with a gentle demeanor, helped her select a small bouquet. Miri paid and continued her stroll.  Her path led her to a quiet corner of the city where a metal cross stood adorned with flowers, trinkets, and notes in a solemn vigil. Lazer’s grave had become a landmark honoring the fallen of Saint Forsaken. Miri smiled, knelt down, and placed the flowers at the base of the cross. She clasped her hands together.  

“May the Creators and Their Gods guide you to eternal dreams,” Miri whispered.  

After a moment, Miri rose and meandered through the tunnels of Saint Forsaken. She made her way to a section known for its food stalls. One in particular, steaming and smelling of various soups, caught her eye. Miri took a seat on a ramshackle stool and ordered. The vendor handed her a steaming bowl of soup, and as Miri attempted to pay, the vendor smiled and waved it off.  

“The Star Bearer eats for free!”  Miri laughed in reluctant acceptance. 

She ate slowly. 

Her gaze fell on the bustling crowd around. The gossip. The laughter. The life.  Miri made her way back towards her apartment. Overlooking the central square of Saint Forsaken and bathed in neon, the space was modest and adorned with scattered tools and half-finished projects. She hung the shawl on the wall and unclamped the armored segments of her suit. Miri set them aside and sat down. Her eyes fell on a tattered book. Raven had gifted her this old Earth relic; a Creator treasure Miri held close to her heart. The title was barely legible and many of the pages were missing, but Miri was enjoying it.  

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?  

Miri never thought to ask what sheep were.