The Pretty Prince and the Beast King
"Where... what the fuck is this?"
"The Core." Aradaa stood, his boots making no sound. "The storehouse. It’s all of them, Kaelor. Every woman the virus took. Their memories are right here."
A shimmering aurora of data swirled above them. It wasn't just light. It was a cathedral of echoing sadness. Every data-flake that drifted past carried a fragment—a laugh, a scent of rain, a mother’s voice. Aradaa’s own static aura, usually a jagged blue lightning, began to bleed out. The white light of the Core soaked into his skin, turning his energy into a maternal, blinding white. He was connecting. The Mother-Code was recognizing its own blood.