Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Fivra
Fivra’s heart plummeted as Cyprian faltered in the air. The fight had been brutal, what she could see of it. The viewport hadn’t given them an unobstructed view, but as the final Axis ship spiraled downward in defeat, so did Cyprian. Her eyes locked onto his massive dragon form as his powerful wings—battered and torn—struggled to keep him aloft. And then it happened—a sharp jolt as his wings gave out entirely.
Fivra’s chest constricted. “No.” Her voice was a ragged whisper. She pressed her hands to the viewport, fingers splayed against the cold surface.
Fear gripped her. It was a visceral thing that wrapped her body in ice. He was falling . His large frame twisted and spiraled like a crimson meteor through the thin atmosphere. Time slowed. Every heartbeat thundered as she watched him hurtle toward the moon’s surface.
Kaelen’s voice was distant, sharp, but meaningless to her ears. He said something—something about staying put, about safety, about waiting. His words were air. She didn’t care. Her world was falling out of the sky.
The impact was a deafening crack that echoed over the surface. The vibration shook her to her core. Dust and debris erupted in plumes, painting the air with gritty shadows. Her breath hitched. Her fingers pressed against the viewport so hard her nails ached.
“ Fek ,” came Kaelen’s hissed curse from behind her.
Fivra whipped around, eyes blazing with determination. “We’re getting him.” Her voice trembled but she was resolute. She turned her gaze toward Kaelen, who was standing at the console, his sharp gold eyes assessing the scene outside.
Kaelen blinked. “We can’t go out there without proper preparation. We are not Zaruxians, who apparently can endure this environment; the cold will snap you in half.”
“Then let’s get the proper preparation,” she snapped, her voice breaking with raw urgency. “He could be dying, Kaelen, and I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing while he’s out there alone.” Her hands clenched. “We’re getting him.”
Kaelen exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath, but nodded. “Fine.” He strode toward the storage compartment at the back of the ship and pulled it open. He removed envo-suits for both of them and gave one to her. Its thick, insulated fabric was dark gray, lined with luminescent strips that pulsed faintly. “Put this on. I don’t know how we’re going to move him, though. He’s much larger in this form.”
Fivra snatched the suit and pulled it on over her clothes. “We’ll find a way.” They would. And if he was alive—he had to be alive—they’d get him well again. And, hopefully, back to his previous form.
Fivra sealed up her suit and donned a pair of boots and gloves designed to withstand extreme cold. She adjusted the integrated oxygen respirator over her face. Without another word, she crossed to the air lock and looked back at Kaelen. “Are you ready?”
Kaelen was at her side in moments. He took a weapon from a supply crate. “If the Axis left any stragglers, we’ll be wide open out there,” he warned her. His tone was sharp, but his movements were quick and efficient as he gripped the weapon. “Keep your head low, and for the love of the stars, don’t do anyth—”
Fivra didn’t wait for him to finish. She passed into the air lock. The outer hatch hissed open, and she stepped outside. She took one sharp inhale through the respirator as her boots crunched against the frosted surface. The stark, barren expanse stretched before her, but her gaze was locked on the spot where Cyprian had fallen.
“This way!” she shouted over her shoulder to Kaelen. Her voice was muffled and distorted by the respirator’s filter. Without waiting for his reply, she surged forward. Her legs pumped as she sprinted toward the wreckage.
Kaelen was hot on her heels. His longer stride quickly caught up. The roaring of her blood pumping through her veins drowned out everything. Craters and jagged rocks littered the icy terrain, making her footing precarious as she stumbled over uneven surfaces.
“Slow down,” Kaelen barked. A hand shot out to steady her as she nearly tripped over a shard of debris from one of the fallen Axis ships. “If you break your neck on the way there, he’ll definitely want to kill me.”
Fivra shook his hand off and pushed forward, and her heart froze at the sight before her. Cyprian’s dragon form lay crumpled on the ground. His crimson scales were marred by soot and cracks. His wings were battered and torn like a fallen banner in the wake of war. Steam rose from his massive body in tendrils, mingling with the dissipating dust.
“Cyprian.” Fivra’s voice was raw. She staggered toward him on shaking legs. Her breath came in uneven gasps through the respirator. Fear clawed at her throat, but she pressed on, her hands reaching out as she closed the distance between her and her mate.
Kaelen came to a halt behind her. His sharp gaze quickly sweeping their surroundings before falling to the massive figure sprawled before them. “Stars above, he’s still breathing,” he muttered, gripping his weapon tightly.
Fivra barely heard him as she collapsed to her knees beside Cyprian’s massive head. Her gloved hands trembled as they brushed against the edges of his scales. “Cyprian, it’s me. It’s Fivra.” Her voice cracked. Tears threatened to spill inside the envo-suit’s helmet. She pressed her hands firmly against his snout, feeling the faintest rise and fall of his slow, labored breaths.
“Come back to me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please. I love you.”
His massive eyes, once molten silver with streaks of fire, remained closed. His mighty body, which had defied the Axis and the frozen temperatures of the moon, now lay still, as if the weight of the battle had finally crushed him. Fivra’s chest ached with a grief that threatened to consume her, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept that this was the end.
“Do something,” she hissed at Kaelen, glancing over her shoulder with desperation.
Kaelen’s golden eyes softened as they shifted to Cyprian’s battered form. “I’m a smuggler, not a fekking healer. If we can get him on the ship, we can warm him up, but all I have is a basic medbay.”
Fivra turned back to Cyprian. Her hands traced over the ridges of his angular snout. Her knees protested at being pressed into the frozen ground, but Fivra ignored the discomfort. Overhead, the distant rumble of a ship’s thrusters cut through her focus. Slowly, she looked up with dread.
Kaelen’s sharp gaze snapped upward. “ Fek me sideways,” he muttered, gripping his weapon and stepping closer to Fivra. “They’re landing.”
The ship that had appeared from nowhere to destroy the Axis vessels earlier now descended upon them. Up close, it was overwhelming in its magnitude. Unlike any ship she had ever seen, it shimmered faintly like liquid shadow. Its surface seemed to drink in what little light the moon offered. Giant stabilizers unfurled from its underside, sending massive blasts of hot air and steam across the barren surface as it began its landing sequence.
“Hmm.” Kaelen’s posture shifted. He positioned himself protectively near Fivra. “So, here’s hoping they’re friendly.”
Fivra didn’t respond. Her fingers dug into Cyprian’s scales. Her gaze locked on the massive ship as it settled into place. As the vibrations below her feet steadied, the ship released a loud, resonating hiss, and thick ramps began extending down from its hull. They weren’t like any docking ramps she’d seen—they were more like bridges, intricately patterned with ancient glyphs.
It wasn’t just the size of the ship that sent a chill racing down her spine. No, the reason her chest now felt impossibly tight was that the ship—it looked familiar . The sharp angles, the fortress-like structure carved into its sides. The massive metal doors seemed more like gates. This ship was an uncanny reflection of the overseer’s fortress back on her settlement.
Fivra’s breath stuttered in her chest. Her hands trembled. Was this a coincidence? A cruel trick of the universe? Or had the overseer found her, somehow, crossing the expanse of space to reappear in a moment she couldn’t make sense of?
Kaelen muttered behind her, his voice tight with suspicion. “That’s like no ship I’ve ever seen.”
Fivra’s pulse quickened as the ship’s massive metal doors split open. Out stepped two figures. The first was tall and broad, radiating an aura of control that made her gape in surprise. His wings—a deep, shimmering purple—spread out slightly, as if ready for an altercation. The angular lines of his face were so familiar it nearly stole her breath. It was him . The overseer.
That ship, that fortress-like design—it wasn’t just reminiscent of the overseer’s home. It was the same. The very same. But it wasn’t just him. The lone, distant figure from the settlement who’d always been in shadows was with another. Walking beside him was a smaller form. A feminine -shaped form. They were no less commanding, and entirely hidden beneath a sleek, full-body suit. The mask covering the being’s face was clear, but reflected a glare that made it impossible for Fivra to see a face. She tensed up as the two figures approached.
“No…” The word slipped from her lips, barely audible. Her body refused to move. No matter what happened, she’d stay with Cyprian. The overseer had no control over her here.
Fivra’s fingers curled around Cyprian’s arm as though holding him would anchor her to whatever reality she was witnessing. The overseer’s imposing purple wings caught the light. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Every muscle in her body screamed for her to run, to hide, but she would hold her ground.
Beside her, Kaelen shifted. His golden eyes locked on the approaching figures and his grip tightened on his weapon. “Stay behind me,” he growled lowly. “If they make a move—”
But then the smaller figure broke away from the overseer. “Fivra?”
Kaelen let out a hiss. “How does that being know you?” He swung his weapon toward the female in the suit, causing the overseer to stop, spread his wings and shove the female behind him. Kaelen’s voice was sharp as a knife. “Don’t fekking move—”
“Wait.” Fivra’s voice cracked. She knew that voice. It was familiar. So painfully familiar.
She knew that stride. Knew it like the voice of an old friend calling across the wind. “Kaelen—put that weapon down.”
The figure leaned out from behind the overseer. The glare was gone, revealing a face Fivra never thought she’d see again.
Turi .
Her friend. Her strong, defiant, fiercely loyal friend from Settlement 112-1. Her face was the same one Fivra had spent nights talking to under the stars.
“Fivra?” Turi’s voice cracked. “Is that you?”
“Turi,” Fivra whispered, and stepped fully out from behind the overseer. Then, louder: “Turi!”
The dam holding Fivra in place broke. She surged to her feet. Her legs trembled beneath the weight of disbelief and sudden hope. All the fear, all the grief that had pressed against her chest evaporated because of a single, undeniable truth—Turi was alive. The others could be alive, too.
Without hesitation, without thinking, Fivra ran. Her boots crunched over the icy ground as she closed the distance between them. Turi’s face softened as tears streamed down her cheeks. At the last moment, her arms opened wide.
The impact of their embrace slammed into Fivra with a force that nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. The moon’s desolation, the massive ship hovering behind them, even Kaelen’s muttered curses—all of it faded into a blur. She hugged her friend fiercely, as if loosening her hold would make this moment disappear.
Fivra choked on her own sob. “I thought you—you were gone, Turi. They took us—sold us—I thought I’d never see you again.” Her words poured out in a broken rush, each syllable raw and tremulous.
Turi pulled back just enough to look at her, hands gripping Fivra’s arms as though she might slip away. Her green eyes burned bright. Though lined with fresh sorrow, they glimmered with the stubborn fire that Fivra had relied on during their darkest nights in the settlement. “I survived,” she said with watery defiance. “Ellion—the overseer—he saved me. He—” Her breath faltered, catching as she glanced toward the towering purple-winged male who quietly watched. His piercing silver eyes gleamed, and there was no missing the pure affection that passed between the two. “He’s not what we thought, Fiv. None of this is.”
Fivra followed Turi’s gaze toward the overseer—whose name was Ellion? She hadn’t known he had a name. The towering male had once been a figure of authority and untouchable power back at the settlement. He was still as imposing as she remembered. His wings, deep and shimmering like dusk on the horizon, moved slightly with the faintest pulse of energy. His sharp, angular face was unreadable, but his silver eyes were identical to Cyprian’s and they were locked on Cyprian’s unmoving form.
The overseer didn’t spare another glance at Turi or Fivra. His long strides carried him forward, closing the distance to Cyprian within moments. Fivra tensed. Her relief at seeing Turi alive and well quickly gave way to a ripple of unease. Why wasn’t he saying anything? This was the overseer—the same mysterious figure she and her people had feared and revered for years. And now he stood before Cyprian, still and silent, his gaze fixed with an intensity that made her heart race.
Fivra’s hands trembled at her sides. He moved deliberately, lowering to a knee and touching the ground with one hand while placing the other gingerly against the scorched scales of Cyprian’s chest.
“No,” Fivra whispered. The sound barely carried over the emptiness of the moon’s surface, but something in her broke free. The protective instinct flared inside her. She hesitated only for an instant before rushing forward. Turi’s lingering grasp fell away as she moved. Her heart hammered as her boots slid across the frosted ground until she dropped to her knees beside Cyprian, on the other side of the overseer.
“What do you want with him?” she asked, her gloved hand landing on Cyprian’s chest in a gesture both possessive and defiant. Her voice trembled. “Don’t hurt him.”
The overseer lifted his head slightly, his silver eyes flickering toward her. There was no malice in his gaze, no threat—only curiosity, mixed with something that felt much heavier, much older. He tilted his head, and his expression softened. Ellion smiled. His sharp features, so often cold and unreadable, seemed…gentle. It was a smile that disarmed Fivra, stripping away her prepared fear and defiance.
“I want only to meet him.” His deep voice was steady and calm, with the faintest hint of nerves. “To know him. I have never even seen another of my kind.”
“He hasn’t either.” Fivra relaxed a fraction. “Will he be okay?”
“Yes,” Ellion replied, placing his fingertips on Cyprian’s throat. “He is alive and will remain so, if I have any say in the matter. Are you his mate, Fivra?”
“I—I…yes.” How strange it felt to acknowledge it to this male. Even stranger to sit there and converse with him. But she lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. “I am.”
He smiled wider. “Good. Your mate is stronger than he looks. He needs rest, which will heal most of his wounds, and a bit of repair to his wings. The shift to his dragon form has drained him. He will revert to his two-legged form soon, though he will be weak and his body sore for a time. We should bring him back to my ship.”
Fivra watched him warily. Her hand still rested protectively on Cyprian’s massive chest. The faint rise and fall of his breathing beneath her gloves offered some comfort. Her voice came out strained, edged with suspicion. “You mean your fortress that can suddenly fly? I don’t know…” She could feel Kaelen step closer behind her, no doubt tracking the overseer’s every subtle movement.
“My ship isn’t going anywhere right now,” Kaelen said. “But that doesn’t mean we’re getting on that thing with you.” He nodded toward the massive ship.
The overseer’s gaze flicked back to Cyprian, lingering on the crimson scales that still glowed faintly with the embers of his fire. His wings shifted slightly, as if contemplating how best to answer. “He is safe with me,” the overseer said slowly, his voice heavy with meaning. “I will protect him with my life.”
Fivra’s breath left her in a shocked exhale. Her head turned toward Turi instinctively, searching for some confirmation in her friend’s expression, but Turi only nodded slightly, her green eyes cautious and somber. Fivra turned back to the overseer, her voice tremulous but insistent. “Why?”
“We learned there are others like me, and with you and the other four females who were taken, we became determined to find my people and yours.” His voice was quiet, reverent. “We intercepted an Axis transmission that mentioned a Zaruxian and a Terian on the run. I set an intercept course immediately, and we arrived in time to assist.” His silver-eyed gaze shifted to Kaelen, who listened but did not put his weapon away. The overseer’s voice remained calm and deliberate. “I give you my word. I will not harm either of you. Nor your smuggler companion.”
Kaelen’s golden eyes narrowed skeptically. His grip on his weapon stayed firm. “Forgive me if I don’t leap at the chance to trust the towering mass with wings and a fortress for a ship,” he said sharply, gesturing at the vessel behind them. His voice was rough, but there was an edge of caution, as though he were weighing the sincerity in the overseer’s words.
“Is this true?” Fivra asked Turi. She kept her hand pressed firmly against Cyprian’s chest. “The Axis ruled over our settlement for generations. They allowed… They endorsed suffering. The overseer was there among us. He was—”
“I know,” Turi said quietly. She reached out and took the overseer’s hand. “He was a guardian put on that mountain to enforce their rule. And for many cycles, he did. But the settlements overthrew the Axis’ rule. They’re free, thanks to Ellion.”
The overseer sighed—a sound deep and somber. “My actions—my presence—were conditioned and controlled, just as Cyprian’s were. The Axis makes tools of those they fear. They kept me isolated, distant, beholden to their directives. They tampered with my mind, with my instincts. I do not excuse my compliance, but I want you to understand: I was not free.”
“You were imprisoned.” Fivra’s voice softened slightly, though her skepticism remained. “Controlled, just like we were.”
The overseer’s wings shifted again, a restless ripple that sent a faint haze of frost scattering around him. “Yes. The Zaruxians under Axis control are not prisoners in the traditional sense. We are…assets. Tools molded to serve. They feared what we might become if our fire burned freely. They conditioned us, monitored us, and ensured our bonds to them were unbreakable—or so they believed.” His eyes rose from Cyprian’s form and settled back on Fivra. The weight in his gaze was heavy. Burdened. “Meeting Cyprian was no coincidence. The Axis must have feared the bond forming between Zaruxians and Terians was more than anecdotal. And they were right.”
“That corroborates what I have heard,” Kaelen said. Finally, he slipped his weapon back into its holder on his hip.
Turi stepped forward, her hand brushing Fivra’s arm. “He’s telling the truth,” she breathed. “He’s the only reason I’m still alive.”
Fivra didn’t know how to feel. Her heart swayed between disbelief, anger, and the slow, creeping understanding that perhaps she and Cyprian weren’t the only ones tangled in the Axis’ web of control and manipulation.
Kaelen crossed his arms. “I intercepted a few reports of my own. You made out a lot better than the inmates you were watching over.”
The overseer’s eyes turned to Kaelen. There was no hostility in his expression, merely a deep, endless weariness. “It was…survival,” he admitted. “At first.” His wings drooped slightly, his posture losing some of its imposing rigidity. “But they erased my memories when I defied their commands. A Zaruxian’s fire burns brighter, stronger, when it ignites for a mate. That bond allowed me to break free of them for good. That bond can make others rebel, as well.”
Fivra stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. The words echoed in her mind. The bond she felt with Cyprian—it was undeniable, elemental. It was as if the very core of her being had been rewired to respond to his presence. “They did not know,” she whispered. The weight of the overseer’s revelation settled like a stone in her chest. “When we were auctioned off, it was just business, but we wound up finding Zaruxians. And two now have rejected the Axis’ control.”
The overseer nodded, solemn but firm. “Now they’re trying to extinguish fires before they can truly burn. But they underestimated something, Fivra.” His eyes flickered to Turi briefly, then back to Cyprian’s massive form. “The fire in us cannot be controlled forever. Bonds like yours with Cyprian—like mine with Turi—are more than mere biology. They are inexorable. A force that even the Axis, for all their might, cannot hope to contain.”
Her gaze turned to Cyprian, whose still form was far too quiet for Fivra’s liking. She needed him to wake up, to be here . “We need to move him inside.”
The overseer moved closer to Cyprian with deliberate grace, his wings settling slightly tighter against his back as he shifted onto one knee beside the fallen dragon’s immense form. With a level of reverence that surprised Fivra, he placed a hand against Cyprian’s long neck, feeling out the faint rhythm of his still-beating heart. “The fire inside him is growing,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. “He is healing, but you’re right. We cannot wait for him to recover.”
“Agreed,” Kaelen grunted. His golden eyes darted between the ship and the horizon. “We’re exposed if the Axis sends reinforcements. They don’t take missing contingents lightly.”
“The fortress is equipped with cloaking arrays,” the overseer replied evenly. “If we return to orbit, we’ll disappear from their scans before an alert can spread. For now, trust that the Axis will be more focused on containment than retaliation. They’ll prioritize suppressing word of their failure here—they don’t want allies rising up in defiance.”
Kaelen let out a low whistle and muttered under his breath, “Stars and smoke, you really are an ex-Axis officer. You speak their language too well.”
Ignoring Kaelen, the overseer’s attention shifted back to Fivra, his expression unexpectedly gentle. “May I carry him?”
Fivra’s eyes widened at the quiet request. He was asking her permission? “Yes.” She raised her head, reminding herself that Ellion was not the overseer any longer. He was not in charge of her, or even Turi. Fivra was the mate of a Zaruxian, and that made her pretty fekking powerful.