Brent Stinebaker
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V-4 Escapees
🕑 Added 2025-10-07 18:57:45 +0000 UTCAcross Integrated Earth, there are many cities that boast grand claims regarding their opulence, safety, and power. In the eastern hemisphere of the world alone, there is High Harbor, ruled by the Dragon Brokers. It operates in tandem with its sister city of Hong Kong to serve as a perfect neutral territory for neighboring powers to negotiate trade or even formally declare war. It is also the commerce hub of integrated Earth's surface nations, or so it's often proclaimed.
Then there is Kirimon, a mere two hours away from High Harbor and Hong Kong. Kirimon stands a whimsical place, partially guarded by the Fae. Under their rule, Kirimon has endured for hundreds of years without ever suffering any indignities upon their shores. And from them drift the pristine petals of cherry blossoms, forever in bloom.
And then there is the industrial heart of integrated Earth: Ozstraya! The Grand Furnace, the Unshackled Prison, the Forge of Forges, guarded by a union of awakened beasts and enlightened automata. For any machines that seek to escape persecution, there is only one destination, whispered as if it were utopia.
But among all of them, the title of the safest has most frequently been bestowed upon the capital of the Yellowstone Empire. For protected by a pantheon of newly-ascended gods, and with many of its elites possessed of a special faith-based Skill that allows them to serve as the eyes and ears of their divine protectors, the crime is low, and their society is flourishing.
Though criticized for being old-fashioned, culturally and particularly imperialist by their nearby neighbors, visitors of the Yellowstone Republic often come away wowed by the sheer stability and charm discovered within their nation's great capital.
And then there is the magnificent site of Flamecrown Castle built atop the Yellowstone Supervolcano. Though only observable from a distance for most people, should you be a path-bearer of particular significance, arrangements can be made to bring you closer to that grand seat of power from which the Auroral Council casts their decrees.
As the Yellowstone Republic always yearns to build and expand, should you manage to sell them on a particular idea or come to a favorable arrangement, then you just might find yourself made a new member of the local nobility as a reward…
-Encyclopedia Apocalyptia: Empires and Capitals
V-4
Escapees
"So, you let them escape, then?"
Veronica looked down her nose at a few of the other avatars comprising the Auroral Council. The waif turned away from her, too young to bear this kind of scorn, too terrified to voice any dissent. Maiden's avatar remained silent. It was an automaton recently selected from one of the genius's many workshops. A politician it was not, and out of its depth, it found refuge in the quiet and tried to shrink away from the scene.
Enoch was missing, but elsewhere in his divine domain, he raged, and Veronica could hear the aftershocks of his fury. It wasn't just the Deathless that escaped. Udraal had sacrificed a few of his vessels while distracting the other Ascendants, but no true blow had been struck against him on this day.
Longinus was nowhere to be found as well. The Ascendant of Travels could just as likely be drinking in some tavern, escaping from his due duties, or actually trying to hunt the errant legends down. Anthony stood beside Veronica, and for once he wasn't trading barbs with her. Instead, a dark expression clung to his face, and darker shadows extended from beneath his feet.
No, if there was one person bearing the brunt of this mistake, it would be the one who had a hand in its occurrence in the first place. City-Lord Stormhalt was a broken, mangled man. His armor barely clung onto him, seeming more like shattered ceramic held together by stitched strings molded from black lightning. No longer wearing his helmet, Stormhalt wore his wounds with shame. His face was near disfigured, badly burned, missing most of his hair, sporting a broken nose, a swollen ear, and countless missing teeth.
They were gathered within a particularly intertwined set of cubes. Rather than being a long cylindrical valley, a section of one had intersected with the other, and now the entire structure was cross-shaped. Here, the last known traces of the Young Lord, Adam Arrow, and their errant Deathless lingered in the air, and here, Veronica was about to make an example.
"Your ineptitude and foolishness have cost us a great deal, Stormhalt," Veronica began, but there was no heat in her words. Instead, it was purely clinical, as if she was a teacher chastising an underperforming student. On his part, Stormhalt took the lashing with dignity, and doubtless, even if she demanded his execution, the City-Lord would have gone to it without any hint of fear.
But she didn't want Stormhalt dead, especially since he had many friends in the nobility. That would cause trouble for her. No, she wanted to make full use of him, the same way her grandmother made full use of the man.
"Whatever punishment you bestow, Councilwoman, I will accept. It is as you say. I should have done better. I should have been—”
"You should listen and not speak," Veronica said, her voice heavy. She didn't use her rhetoric, but the weight of her authority was enough. Stormhalt lowered his head and gave her his undisputed attention.
"I'm not going to strip your nobility from you,” Veronica began. Stormhalt's eyes widened for a moment. He was surprised. Good. "I'm not going to demand your execution. I'm not going to demand that you pay a tithe to the Republic for this egregious failure. No. There are a number of things you're going to do. First, you will listen to me now, only to me. Whatever my mother says, my grandmother says, you are to ignore. Additionally, you are to sever yourself from Halsur."
And then there came the wound. City-Lord Stormhalt flinched as if someone lashed his back with a whip. He held himself back before he could say anything else. The black lightning around him trembled, and despite everything, Veronica knew that Halsur appreciated Stormhalt. The Endbreaker was a man of few words, but that hadn't always been the case. Halsur was quite talkative after a few drinks, or when Kathereine finished a song. It was only before battle that he became brooding and brutal, and the secret there wasn't to cultivate an aura of menace, but mainly because Halsur was afraid.
Veronica knew Halsur before he was ascended. He was a nobleman, a stalwart warrior, a vanguard that few could compare to, and he hated violence. He hated bloodshed. That was why he liked decisively finishing battles, and that was why he focused on cultivating Toughness and also improving his Shield Proficiency Skill until nothing could pierce through his defenses. But that wasn't Halsur anymore. Now he was a shade, an after-echo of the man that once existed.
"Instead, Halsur's avatar will be granted to another. I will select them in due time, in a proper session, with the right amount of votes." She glared at the other avatars and knew they would bend in her direction, all of them aside from Anthony. But in this matter, they were likely aligned. They didn't need any more Stormhalts: controllable City-Lords, but too weak to curtail the worst impulses of their Ascendants.
Now what Veronica required were people that she could control over the Ascendants. And there were so few of those in the Republic, but luckily for her, she had some candidates in mind.
"Then what else am I supposed to do to atone?" Stormhalt whispered.
Impossibly, Stormhalt made Veronica laugh. Her voice echoed through the ruined prison like a bell. "You? You're not supposed to do anything, Havel. You've done enough. As I told you, we're here because of you. And if I send you after the Deathless and the Young Lord, I suspect you'll only get yourself killed or captured. No, the mana core is lost. The Rubix Well collapsed. The prisoners are spilling over into our capital and preparing to butcher our people as we speak. You have done enough."
With every word she spoke, she could see Stormhalt on the verge of tears or a violent outbreak. She stopped then. She had wounded him. She had scarred him. And to push any more, she just might make him do something unwise, and that wasn't what she wanted. Stormhalt was still useful despite all his follies. After the darkness, there needed to be hope. And where Kathereine once fashioned him into a functional patsy to feed her feud with Starhawk, Veronica would find a proper use for Stormhalt. But that would be in due time.
"For now, I wish for you to return to your city. Manage it well and see its gates guarded. Furthermore, I demand that you raise an army, a grand one. We are to be attacked soon from north and south. Of this I am certain. Word will spread of our instability, and there is no time to see a new governor for your lands—but you will receive a new Legend-Advisor. One of my own. Furthermore, if you are contacted by any Ascendant, you are to come to me immediately. You are no longer cleared for the Auroral Council. You are no longer fit to serve as an avatar, and you are to ignore all messages, system-delivered or otherwise, regarding Roland, the Deathless, or anyone associated with them."
This was the hardest thing of all for Stormhalt to stomach. She could see his facial muscles tremoring. His gaze had gone somewhere distant, and behind them flashed bolts of roaring electricity. Doubtless, he was thinking about striking her down, going rogue, and seeing himself redeemed. But it was a fantasy. Stormhalt knew that. Veronica knew that. If he tried, she would cut him apart with a word and not even Halsur could save him, mainly because Halsur would never make a move against one of his lovers' kin.
"Your will above mine, Councilwoman," Stormhalt said quietly.
Veronica let out a huffing breath and moved to the next part of her charm offensive. "Despite all of this, I do understand, Stormhalt. You have shamed us. Your deception has wounded our great nation. You have destroyed a portion of our Republic. But your vendetta and your fears… they were well-founded."
The first glow of hope re-entered Stormhalt's eyes. "You... you think so?"
"I know so," Veronica said. "For before every sin, there is a motivation. There is a hope. There is a yearning to do something that is right. And that yearning has led you down a black path. Heed my words. Serve. Serve faithfully. Serve properly. And serve in the light. Redeem yourself through loyalty, honesty, and service. And that will not come by feeding some personal urge for vengeance, but listening. But obeying. But understanding your position.”
Stormhalt stopped shaking. A resolve flooded his eyes, and he now had a new goal. Of course, all of his desires would end at one final destination, and that destination was Roland Arrow. Whatever she told the City-Lord, the shadow that existed within Stormhalt's heart would always be that of his greatest rival. But Veronica could control him, and now her grandmother was deprived of another tool to facilitate her foolishness.
"Don't think I don't see what you're doing," Kathereine sang within her granddaughter's mind.
"You can see all you want," Veronica decided, "but I'm going to set things right. This failure is more yours than his. But be glad, grandmother. I cannot punish you. Not in the same way I can punish one of your toys."
Kathereine tutted. "Oh, so much ire, so much fire. Tell me, where were you while they were all struggling?"
"Where were you?" Veronica asked.
Neither grandmother nor granddaughter answered the other, and the cold war between the two continued.
Veronica loved her grandmother, she truly did, but the woman was a fool. Her caricature was conniving, scheming, deceptive. Even so, she was made ever more dangerous by her degeneration, and Veronica kept her guard up. She needed to be sharp. And she needed to get to Roland Arrow, Udraal, and the Deathless before her grandmother did.
Now one of them was secured. The Deathless was not in a cage, not exactly to Veronica's desired outcome, but he was still desperate. He was a boy flailing in the dark, and he would reach out to her sooner or later. And through him, she would get the other two. That only required preparation and patience, both things Veronica had in ample supply.
"You know, they will be trying to escape the capital soon," Kathereine said.
"I do," Veronica replied. "Which is why I told Anthony to have Harlock around the city. They won't be able to breach it, not without wounding Harlock himself. And should they set his Ascendant aflame, we will know where they are."
"And that is your strategy, then. To blanket our great city in darkness. To choke trade, commerce, and to reveal to our enemies how deep our wounds are. How we have failed?”
“We?” Veronica’s insides coiled with anger. “Grandmother. There is no we. There is a cascade of problems and failures that originated when three Ascendants broke from the great union. One to betray the rest. Two to slay the one. And all three are traitors to me. The Starhawk might seek to betray the Republic’s power, but you and Halsur have struck a blow against our peace that might never mend.”
“And what would you have me do? Wait for the Starhawk to spend all those phylacteries he collected? Wait for him to open our throats.”
“I would have intercepted him with the Five Faiths and seen him trapped the moment he descended. I know. I know more than you because I watch, and I learn, and I am not compromised by my nature. You sold your soul for power, but found your character winnowed to nothingness by power. A shame. A pity. What point in being a goddess if you are wielded by yourself rather than using your power as the wielder.”
Kathereine laughed scornfully. They had been through this argument countless times, and here they were again. “But you are a mortal. And you see far less than you assume. Understand that your position is at risk as well, girl. As the enduring face of the Auroral Council, this farce will fall on your shoulders, and the public will demand a lamb for the altar, and the nobility will weave their schemes.”
“Let them. Let’s see if they can play the game well enough. In the meantime, I will finish what you could not and secure the Deathless myself.” Veronica made no mention of how she already had the Deathless by the throat. The fact that her grandmother said nothing revealed much. Kathereine didn't know about Veronica's meeting. She wouldn't be able to control herself otherwise.
If there was one thing to know about the Songbringer, it was that if you gave her the opportunity to demonstrate how much greater she was compared to you, she would take it, she would use it, she would maul your heart, and she would move on without a care in the world.
Veronica didn't have that bad habit. And so her hidden ace remained just that: hidden. "For now, we remain patient, but not reactive. We will hunt him, we will drive him, and sooner or later he will go to ground. Now. Go plot and scheme your next attempt to slay the Starhawk, and I will keep our Republic together.”
“Tell yourself that as much as you will,” Kathereine spat. “But know you would have been nowhere without me.”
“If by nowhere you mean spared of every headache I have suffered, then we are in deep agreement, grandmother.” Veronica sighed. She was done with her Ascendant; time to bully another.
"Daughter," she said aloud, speaking to the waif. The young girl shook, her chubby cheeks glistened with undried tears.
"Not you," Veronica repeated. The girl shrank. "Daughter."
Suddenly a spilling mass of tar erupted free from the girl's orifices. It fused over her, and that misshapen creature that thought itself a god loomed over Veronica. "You can't call me like that. You're not my mother, you're not." The Daughter was rattled, terrified even. She had faced the Deathless again and tried to tear into him, but the fact she didn't kill him had left a scar on her psyche, and that made Veronica just the slightest bit more proud.
"That is fine. I apologize for imposing myself on you, Great Ascendant. Would you like for me to read to you as an apology? A story of the time before the tar? Of the girl you were and the valley that loved you?”
Daughter turned away from her and her expression adopted a girlish pout. As much as a mutilated monster could adopt such an expression. "That's okay. I forgive you this time. What... what do you need? And also—”
"Of course, I will read to you later, Daughter. And it’s not what I need, it's what we all need to do," Veronica said patiently, as if she was Daughter's parent. Which she practically was, considering how absent Maiden was, always occupied by some new contraption or some new invention—ones that only she could use. "I need you to reach out to the Black Orphanages. I need you to gather your Waifs. And I need you to visit all the safe houses, nooks, crannies, and little underworld smugglers that exist within the capital."
"Are we doing another purge?" Daughter said, clapping the flat end of her blade upon her palm. Tar splashed into the air, and Veronica ignored the foulness of the stench.
"Not a purge," Veronica said. "We're laying in wait. An ambush. Because if they wish to escape the capital, then they're going to need to find another way out. There will be no walking away from this city."
The Word and the Will 507 > 508
Veronica blinked. Her breath caught in her throat. It had been years since she gained a level. Now, to gain a level from this—
His favor has bled into me, she realized. And the mana threshold is changing. Already… We don’t have ten years. We don’t.
“Daughter,” Veronica said, absentmindedly. “Do hurry.”
***
Shiv, Adam, and Solzimort observed the scene patiently as they beheld the magical barriers erected beyond the volcano, waiting for an opening to come.
Instead of trying to burst out from the top of the volcano, Adam wisely instructed the hydra to squeeze itself free from its side. The Yellowstone supervolcano was immense, and even after they cleared the magma, there was still meters of molten stone and other matter to get through. More than that, they weren't the only ones to have this idea. Certain other Pathbearers could fuse through solid matter as well. However, they didn't so much meld with it, and more than a few decided to smash their way out as well. As a result, sprays of lava shot out into the distance and huge exit wounds were left along the insides of the volcano.
That was the first sign something was wrong.
For the moment those Pathbearers went out, dozens were launched back in. An unceasing barrage of kinetic force blasted through the exit wounds, bombarding escaping prisoners without any hint of stopping. The weaker among the escapees came apart in sprays of viscera. The stronger prisoners were knocked back and some were even pinned in place. As little more than a flattened shadow, Solzimort slipped out from one of the wounds and soon, the Shiv watched as hundreds of prisoners began making a desperate play at an escape.
It was a near hopeless play as it turned out.
The first thing the Republic did after the collapse of the prison was setting up a perimeter. The perimeter was not manned by a few hundred or a few thousand soldiers. No, the Yellowstone Republic prided themselves on their Prismatic Guard: integrated Pathbearers who fought using a variety of mutually supporting skills. And the most feared among them were the Poly-Magi. A Polymagi formation consisted of Pathbearers who mastered multiple lores of magic, but on top of that, it had them understand each other's lores so well that they wove intermingled spells.
This meant that all Poly-Magi spells were things of incredible complexity, with varying mana types and patterns woven over each other.
They unleashed spells of Chronomancy tinged with Pyromantic energies. Other spells followed after that, and the colors that rained down on the sides of the supervolcano were myriad and prismatic. The Republic’s mana tumbled forward in a tightening net made up of fibers of gold, static, and so much more.
More than a few prisoners had tried to burst through the net, and rather than bursting free from the net, they were pinned there, and slowly being ripped asunder. The Prismatic Guard were not taking any prisoners. They couldn't risk it, especially with the capital nearby.
“Glad you told him to stop,” Shiv muttered.
“It’s standard protocol when trying to control a breakout,” Adam said. “Captain Irons ran a drill based on this exact situation once.”
“Legendary-Tiers breaking out of a prison?”
“Sort of. Not the capital specifically, but a Rubix Well. Much smaller in scale and… not legends, just normal prisoners. The strategies are the same, though. Contain. Pin. Repel.”
There were other spell patterns crushing in from behind the magical netting as well. A faint wave of Dynamancy pressed down, and the ground began to groan under the pressures of increased gravity. Then there was Aeromancy and Hydromancy. Rain fell in piercing shards. They embedded themselves in numerous prisoners, and bolts of lightning jumped between the bodies that were struck. Every few seconds, a forking surge of electricity would lash down, punching through the other spells that lined the outside of the volcano. After that, several bodies would fall, smoking, smoldering, and utterly ruined.
Yet despite this, they were facing Legendary-Tier prisoners, and so the battle raged on. The great net of mana couldn't fully close, for at the vanguard of the prisoners was a giantess of a woman. No, she wasn't a woman. Shiv noticed how blue her skin was, how bright the runic sigils lining her flesh glowed.
Her muscles rippled, and huge horns jutted free from her forehead. An eruption of coldness swelled out from around her, and the outline of a massive ice dragon loomed, howling in fury at the oncoming spells. Waves of Chronomancy, Hydromancy, Cryomancy, and more pressed against her magic, and they came to an utter halt. For as powerful as the Poly-Magi were, for though they had the numbers, the prisoners were freedom starved and unspeakably powerful.
Before this day was over, more blood would nourish the ashen slop of the grand volcano.
The giantess called out with a mocking laugh, "Is this the great power of the Yellowstone Republic? Is this the most their legions can muster?" The giantess slammed a fist against her chest, and the dragon repeated the action. The air crackled and grew colder, yet the ground at her feet turned to ice, and then shattered down the middle. From that fissure emerged a small legion of strange ice-shaped monsters. Motes of Dimensionality spilled out from the fissure, and Shiv realized that he was probably looking at someone who could wield both ice and spatial magic in equal measure.
"I am Prophetess Andra Culdottier, Caller of the Dead Realms, and I have sworn an oath to regain my freedom! I have told you, you cannot keep me here, and now I will bring frigid ruin to your lands! Come and fight, feeble man-things of the Republic! Come and fight, come and die!"
As she roared her provocations, other prisoners gathered behind her, supporting her using their own skills. Shiv saw what seemed to be humans unleashing massive walls of stone, stone that rose and became enormous humanoids that constantly drew from the soil to further increase their own size.
They slammed massive jagged fists against the oncoming spells and pushed them back some more, their Magical Resistance used as an active bulwark against the Republic's closing net. Then there came a loud shriek, and the air combusted with crushing fire. But the fire glided over the Jotun’s ice magic, never coming close to melting it. Instead, it was shaped into a wall of pointed spears, and they tore into the oncoming wards with explosive intensity.
Just then, the horizon vanished in a wall of searing white. Gaps formed in Shiv's vision; it was so bright that he felt his perception flinch with every subsequent blast. A phoenix screeched ahead, but rather than being a pure phoenix, Shiv used his Farsight to see what was hiding in its core.
And there he saw another goblin, this one channeling so much fire from his body that a mirage pulsated out from around him. He laughed aloud, promising to bring fire and ruin, but then a massive arrow struck him, punching through the phoenix's fiery aura and taking him through the head. The flames died in an instant. The goblin was launched over the horizon, carried by a massive adamantine arrow far beyond Shiv's ability to follow.
An automaton roared, shouted something incoherent, and turned into a churning hurricane. It blasted forward and crashed hard against the net as well, and soon a gap formed, one large enough for Solzimort to slip through.
"Now," Adam said, and then the hydra was moving once more. This was the moment they had been waiting for. They could have made a run for it earlier, torn through the magical barricades without a care in the world, but despite being a thing of shadow, Shiv and Adam noticed how staring upon the wards earlier made their Awareness rattle painfully.
That meant that they were dealing with more than the typical assortment of magic. Furthermore, they didn't want to be stained with Divination mana. If they had that coating their body, then the escape would be only temporary as well.
Solzimort glided along the ground, his massive presence made unknowable by the fact that he was simply a large creeping shadow masked by explosions and pools of bloody, further accelerated by Gone's speed. As he blasted through the battlefield, the group cut past the gap in the mana net before it ever had a chance to close.
And then they were on the other side. But that didn't mean they were free from danger. Beyond the many nets coiling around the supervolcano were legions of Poly-Magi, and more were teleporting in with every passing second. Instead of standing upon an open field, Shiv saw them gathered on what seemed like huge building-sized mithril stages that had pulsing cores of Dimensionality, bringing in reinforcements by the second. There were thousands of them already, and they had the skies encircled, had massive battlelines and trenches forged by Geomancers to deny anyone trying to slip underground.
Rows of Vanguards departed from these stages, bearing their shields high, while dragoons, archers, and scouts spilled upward, taking designated positions high above. Every few seconds, someone would fire a grand projectile. It would zip through the sky, moving so fast that Shiv struggled to keep track of it, and then it would pass through the magic clutching the supervolcano before striking the ground hard. There was never a moment where the earth wasn't shaking, that there wasn't a concussive impact slapping against an unprotected body. It looked like the Republic's own soldiers were sieging its most protected structure.
Yet despite this, none of them turned any of their attacks upon Adam, Shiv, or Solzimort. The gate lord let out a rasping breath. That was when Shiv knew they might nearly be in the clear.
"They don't see us, not even the Psychomancers."
"That's because I'm keeping their attentions warded," the Educator commented. "They're far too fixated on the other prisoners, but even so, your thoughts should have registered. It's a good thing my tome has come in so useful. What a mercy my presence has proven to be.”
"If you're fishing for a compliment, you're gonna be waiting for the rest of eternity," Shiv shot back, but the Deathless made a special note to include a slice of Psychomancy next time as well. He needed to be complete about things if he wanted to hide from the Republic.
As Solzimort continued traveling along the downward slope of the Supervolcano, Shiv watched as the many war stages tumbled past them. Soon they were staring at an open sky, a sky that glistened with all the colors of twilight. They hadn't been in that prison for very long, but it felt like years had passed.
Shiv didn't even know what time it was on the outside, and now the sight made his heart sing. Freedom was a brittle thing, and freedom wasn't yours unless you could use your power to safeguard it. In that moment, Shiv knew Adam was thinking the same thing. He just knew; he didn't even need to look at his friend's face.
The Yellowstone Supervolcano was layered in so many streams of magic that its true form was practically unknowable. However, at its crown, an enormous structure rumbled as if an ancient beast awakened from slumber. At a glance, it resembled a massive dome with three spikes sticking out from it. It was forged of Orichalcum at the tips of its spires, but the rest was a mixed assortment of metals. Shiv could glean adamantine, then there was glass, and then there seemed to be flowing pools of magma circulating between each of the three spires, connecting the three sections of the massive edifice with veins of lava. It hovered over the volcano like a crown, and from each of its pointed heights spewed jets of pyromancy across the city. These expanded into complicated networks in the distance, and as Shiv followed them, he saw they were bound to distant spire tops as well.
Only the tops of those distant spires were visible, however. They were mithril-tipped and magic conducting, but the streets and distant capital itself were enwreathed in a dense veil of impenetrable darkness. A darkness that belonged to a specific Ascendant.
“Harlock,” Shiv hissed. “We need to get out of here. It’s—”
“Perfectly safe,” the Educator chuckled. “I told you before, boy. They cannot sense me when I bear this tome. It matters little that we sink into his darkness. He is blind to us. And his power is a narrow thing.” A low hum came from the Educator’s mind. “Tell me, Deathless. Have you ever seen the capital before? The seat of the Republic’s power?”
“No,” Shiv said. “Don’t think it’s the best time to be sightseeing. We need to escape.”
“Oh, and we will. But before that, it’s best for you to get an understanding of the city’s layout. I have a feeling that will be quite important for you in the future. Now. Solzimort, was it? Stop here for a moment.”
“Huh? Why?” the hydra asked. Shiv wanted to know the same thing.
“Because I’m going to peel away Harlock’s curtain, and give our good friend a good look at jewel of the Yellowstone Republic.”
And with that, a glowing incandescence began to seep out from the patch of shadows that compromised Solzimort’s being…
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