“There was no repairing,” Aquila says, now. “Even replacing might’ve been beyond me.”

”Remember,” she says, earlier, grabbing a panel on the back of the King of the Domes’ head, “when we made you your crown? Do you remember how proud you were to put it on?”

”His emotional regulator was totally fried. I did everything I possibly could.”

”You’ve done so well.” Inside his head, she unplugs a single light-blue cable.

A sad Shereef declares, “No king can rule forever.”

The deactivated robot’s sole eye dimmed, Aquila kisses the front of its faceplate. ”May Eos’ dawn break on those whose lives you’ve touched for millennia to come.”