The morning with Madam Faruzan was a whirlwind of ancient mechanics. She showed him diagrams of Primal Constructs, explaining the intricate balance of elemental energy and physical engineering that powered the desert's guardians. Her passion was infectious, and as Ren studied the photos of King Deshret's mausoleum, with its floating pyramids and golden sand, he felt a tug of wanderlust. The desert… a place of secrets buried under dunes. Maybe, he thought, after the festival.
By evening, his head full of gears and glyphs, Ren wandered down to the Grand Bazaar. The atmosphere was electric. The stage was set, the decorations were up, and the scent of celebration hung heavy in the air. Tomorrow was the Sabzeruz Festival.
He was admiring a stall selling intricate wooden carvings when he felt eyes on him. Not the admiring glances of scholars, but a persistent, focused stare.
He turned casually, scanning the crowd. Near a pillar, trying very hard to look like she was examining a crate of Zaytun Peaches, was Katheryne.
Ren paused. Was it Sandrone? Had the Marionette sent her agent to check on him?
He watched for a moment. Katheryne shifted her weight awkwardly. She picked up a peach, stared at it intensely as if it held the secrets of the universe, and then put it down in the wrong basket. She glanced at him, saw him looking, and immediately tried to lean casually against the pillar, missing it by an inch and stumbling slightly.
Ren almost laughed. No. This wasn't Sandrone. Sandrone's control was absolute, her puppets moving with terrifying, inhuman grace. This was… clumsy. Amateurish. Endearing.
He knew who it was.
He waved.
Katheryne jolted. She tried to turn away, to look aloof and professional, but her foot caught on a loose paving stone. She pitched forward, colliding directly with a woman carrying a basket of Harra Fruit.
"Oh!"
Fruit cascaded across the stone floor, rolling in every direction.
"I am… my apologies! I… I mean, I am so sorry!" Katheryne stammered, her voice fluctuating between robotic monotone and genuine panic. She scrambled to her knees, chasing rolling fruit.
Ren hurried over, crouching down to help. Together, they gathered the wayward fruit, returning it to the woman's basket. Katheryne bowed repeatedly, apologizing profusely until the woman, bemused but smiling, waved her off.
As the woman walked away, Ren looked at the flustered receptionist.
"Would you like to talk somewhere… less crowded?" he asked gently. "Katheryne?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide and unnervingly human. She nodded.
They moved to a quiet, open terrace overlooking the lower levels of the bazaar. The noise of the market faded to a hum.
Ren leaned against the railing, looking at her. "So," he said, his voice low. "Why hijack poor Katheryne? You could have just spoken to me directly. In my mind."
Katheryne—or rather, the consciousness inhabiting her—froze. Her eyes widened further. "How… how did you know?"
It was the voice of a child, soft and wise. It was Nahida.
Ren smiled, a mysterious, knowing smile he had perfected during his time with Zhongli and Ei. "I've already met three Archons," he bluffed smoothly. "Barbatos, Morax, Beelzebul. I know what a god feels like. Even a hidden one."
Nahida stared at him, her borrowed face full of awe. She accepted the lie instantly. To her, as a being who transcended the Akasha's wisdom, his insight made perfect sense.
"I see," she murmured. "You truly are… an anomaly."
She sighed, her posture relaxing, becoming less rigid. "I wanted to speak with you. I have been watching you. Your inventions… your heart. You are a variable I did not account for."
Her expression grew serious. "But I have been… distracted. I have been monitoring the preparations for the Sabzeruz Festival. And… the Sages."
The word hung in the air, cold and sharp.
"The Sages?" Ren asked, keeping his voice steady.
"They are planning something," Nahida whispered. "Using the Akasha. And the power of the Dendro Gnosis." She looked at him, fear flickering in her eyes. "I believe… they are trying to create a new god."
Ren nodded slowly. He knew this. But he needed her to confirm the details.
"They are working with someone named Balladeer," Nahida continued. "Scaramouche. I have sensed his presence in the divine capsule they are building."
Ren frowned. "But Scaramouche doesn't have the Electro Gnosis," he said. "The Knave took it. It should already be in Snezhnaya. Without it… how can he become a god? He needs a heart."
Nahida shook her head, her expression troubled. "I do not know. But he is here. And he is involved. And there is someone else."
She looked around nervously, as if the shadows might be listening. "Someone is helping them. Someone whose knowledge is vast, whose mind is hidden from the Irminsul, hidden even from me. I cannot see him, but I can see the spaces where he has been. The voids in the data."
Ren's blood ran cold. Dottore.
Only the Doctor could hide from the God of Wisdom in her own city. He was here. He was operating in a silence so profound it was deafening to even the god of wisdom. And he was helping create a god without the Electro Gnosis… what monstrosity were they building?
"Be careful, Ren," Nahida said, her voice urgent. "The festival… something will happen. I will do my best to keep everyone safe. To protect the people's dreams."
She reached out, her hand hovering near his arm but not touching. "Thank you. For listening. For seeing me."
"I see you," Ren promised. "Take care, Nahida."
"Goodbye," she whispered.
Her eyes glazed over for a split second, the divine presence vanishing. Katheryne blinked, looked around in confusion, muttered "Reboot complete," and walked away with her standard, stiff gait, completely unaware of the conversation she had just had.
Ren stood alone on the terrace, the weight of the coming storm settling on his shoulders. Dottore was the ghost in the machine. Scaramouche was the puppet without a heart. And the festival was the stage.
He looked down into the bazaar. He saw a flash of blonde hair. Lumine. She was walking with Dunyarzad and Dehya, laughing, excited for the festival tomorrow.
Ren watched them, a grim determination hardening his heart. The Samsara was coming. The dream was about to begin. And he was ready to wake up.