Chapter 20
“ELARA,” he said softly, reaching forher.
She flinched, her hands trembling as she hugged herself tightly. “That was... that was not supposed to...”
“It does not matter,” Zar’Ryn interrupted, his voice firm but not harsh. He knelt in front of her, his hands gently prying hers away from her body. “That moment does not define you. Whatever they said, whoever they were, they were wrong.”
Her tears spilled over, and she shook her head, unable to speak. Zar’Ryn’s grip tightened, his amethyst eyes blazing with quiet intensity. “Look at me,” he said. When she finally met his gaze, he continued, his voice a steady anchor. “You are stronger than this. You have proven that a hundred times over. Isee who you are, Elara, and you are extraordinary.”
The bond pulsed between them, not with warmth but with fierce, protective strength. For a moment, he stayed silent, as though debating how much further to go, before his voice dropped into a deadly calm. “Tell me where to find this monster.”
She stiffened, her breathing quickening. “What?”
“The one who hurt you. The one who deserves to pay.” His tone was icy, lethal in its promise. “Tell me where to find him. And I will end him.”
Her breath caught, and she stared at him, wide-eyed. The sheer conviction in his words left no doubt in her mind that he meant every syllable. “Zar’Ryn, no—”
“Yes,” he growled, cutting her off. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “I am not human. My justice is not tempered by mercy for cowards who prey on those who cannot defend themselves. You are mine to protect, Elara. If you name him, he will not draw another breath.”
She trembled, not with fear, but with something far deeper, atangled knot of awe, love, and the sharp edges of grief. “You can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Even if he deserves it... you can’t. It’s not who I am. And it’s not who I want you to be.”
His jaw clenched, his gaze unwavering. “He has no right to continue. No right to live when he has caused you such pain.”
Her hand covered his, her fingers trembling as they rested against the strength of his grip. “And you have no right to take a life for me,” she said softly. “Not like this. Not when it’s revenge, not justice. Icouldn’t bear to see you become something darker because of me.”
His expression didn’t soften, but the bond between them pulsed with a hesitant understanding. “You do not want me to do this.” It was not a question.
“No,” she said firmly, though tears slipped free again. “I want you to be exactly who you are—fierce, loyal, protective. And this? This tells me how much you care. But you don’t need to destroy him to prove that.”
Zar’Ryn exhaled sharply, his muscles taut as though barely holding back a primal force. Finally, his shoulders eased, though his jaw remained tense. “If you change your mind, say the word.”
Elara let out a shaky laugh, something light threading through her voice for the first time. “I’ll hold you to that.” Her fingers squeezed his hand gently. “But right now, this is enough. You’re enough.”
His amethyst gaze locked onto hers, fierce and unyielding. “Then we will face this together, too.”
She nodded, her voice small but certain. “Together.”
Zar’Ryn rose slowly to his full height, his fury sharp and controlled, his movements deliberate as he stepped away from Elara. The air around him seemed to vibrate with the weight of his restrained anger, the bond between them pulsing with his unrelenting determination.
“Custodian,” he called, his voice echoing through the chamber like the toll of a war drum. “Show yourself.”
When no response came, his tone dropped, colder now, laced with lethal intent. “You will not hide from me. You will answer for what you have done.”
The space around them shimmered faintly, aripple of energy announcing the Custodian’s arrival. It materialized with its usual air of detachment, its expression calm, almost impassive. It studied Zar’Ryn with a faint tilt of its head, as though he were an interesting specimen under its scrutiny.
“You summoned me,” it said, its tone devoid of inflection. “What do you seek, Intergalactic Warrior?”
Zar’Ryn’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening as he took a step toward her. “I demand that you show us your most vulnerable moment,” he said, each word a challenge, sharp and unyielding. “You have forced Elara to endure what no one should. You will reveal the same of yourself. If you believe your actions justified, then you will not hesitate.”
The Custodian’s expression did not falter, though a flicker of unease passed through its eyes. “That is not how this works,” it replied, its voice calm but firm. “I am the keeper of these truths, not their subject.”
“Not how it works?” Zar’Ryn’s laugh was short and bitter, asound devoid of humor. He closed the distance between them, towering over the hologram. “You claim to safeguard truths, yet you wield them like weapons. You strip others bare while cloaking yourself in secrecy. That is not justice. It is cowardice.”
The Custodian’s gaze hardened, but it did not retreat. “You misunderstand my role.”
“No, Iunderstand it all too well,” Zar’Ryn snapped, his voice a low growl. “You tear open wounds and call it revelation. You inflict pain and call it progress. What you have done here is despicable, and you will answer for it.”
“I answer to no one,” it said simply, though its composure was not as unshakable as it hadbeen.
Zar’Ryn’s eyes narrowed, his hands flexing as though itching for action. For a moment, the bond resonated with his restrained violence, his need to strike against the injustice he saw before him. But then he exhaled sharply, forcing himself to turn away. The Custodian was untouchable—for now—but there was still someone he could reach.
“Elara,” he said, his voice softening as he knelt before her. His movements, though gentler, carried the same intensity that had filled his confrontation with the Custodian. “You deserve more than this. More than me.”
Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed a hand to her trembling fingers, silencing her gently. “No, listen to me. You need to know who I am.”
He paused, drawing a deep breath. “I must tell you the truth of what I am, so you may see all of me. Then you may decide if I am worthy of your trust—of your forgiveness.”
His voice dropped, weighted with the burden of memory. “In my unit, First is the one who enters first, the scout who evaluates and decides. But when peace is no longer possible, when strength is the only solution... they send me.”
Elara’s gaze softened, but he pressed on, his words deliberate, unflinching. “I am their hammer. Their weapon. And where I go, violence follows.”
He looked down briefly, his hands tightening into fists. “There was a colony on the edge of the Ninth Galaxy. Marauders had enslaved its people, stripped its land of resources, and left nothing but despair. My orders were clear. Eliminate the threat. No negotiations. No survivors. And by the time I left, there were none.”
The memory remained vivid, the acrid stench of smoke and blood still lingering in his mind. “It is always the same, Elara. They send me, and I bring ruin. Afactory of weapons. Aresearch station holding hostages. Astronghold housing children stolen from Vettian families. Each time, the mission was the same. Destruction. And I did it all.”
His voice faltered for a moment, but he forced himself to continue. “This is what I am. What I have always been. When I look at you, Ido not see a victim. Isee resilience. Strength. Fire. And you have made me wish to be something else. To be more than I am.”
He met her gaze, his amethyst eyes burning with raw vulnerability. “I would do it all again if it meant protecting you. If it meant sparing you even a fraction of the pain you have endured. But you must understand this, Elara. Iam not a man who leaves peace in his wake.”
The bond thrummed between them, awave of emotion too tangled to unravel. Elara reached out, her hand trembling as it rested against his. “You are not alone, Zar’Ryn,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her eyes. “You do not have to be the hammer anymore. Not with me.”
And for the first time in centuries, he dared to believeher.
The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of what had been said. Zar’Ryn held Elara’s gaze, her steady presence grounding him in a way he did not fully understand.
The bond between them reverberated faintly, aquiet reassurance in the aftermath of their shared confessions. He had bared his soul to her, stripped away the armor of detachment and control that had defined him for centuries, and in return, she had not turnedaway.
He felt it before he saw it—ashift in the air, afaint ripple of energy that sent a chill skittering down his spine. The Custodian’s voice, sharp and resonant, shattered the fragile quiet.
“You have passed.”
Zar’Ryn rose swiftly to his feet, his movements fluid despite the tension coiling in his muscles. He turned to face the Custodian, who had reappeared in the center of the chamber, its form flickering faintly as if it were made of the very light that illuminated the space.
“Passed?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. He took a step forward, his gaze narrowing. “What trial is this, Custodian? You will not withhold answers from me.”
The Custodian inclined its head, its expression as inscrutable as ever. “The second trial—the trial of vulnerability. You have succeeded.”
Its words hung in the air, the weight of them settling heavily on Zar’Ryn’s chest. He exchanged a glance with Elara, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I have revealed no vulnerability to you,” he said, his tone laced with challenge. “You will explain.”
The Custodian’s gaze flicked between him and Elara, its calm demeanor unshaken by his demand. “This trial is not one of combat or intellect, Intergalactic Warrior. It is a trial of the soul. To pass, you must willingly reveal the truths you guard most fiercely. Your fears, your pain, the shadows of who you are. You must allow another to see them, to know you fully.”
Zar’Ryn’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. “And you claim we have done this? That we have bared ourselves to your satisfaction?”
“I claim nothing,” the Custodian replied, its tone almost gentle now. “You have revealed yourselves to one another. That is the measure of success.”
The words struck Zar’Ryn like a blow, though he did not falter. He thought of what he had shared with Elara—the memories of his missions, the violence that had defined his existence, the fear that she would turn away from him. He thought of her tears, her trembling voice as she spoke of her past, her refusal to let him destroy Benson despite his insistence that it was justice.
His chest tightened as realization dawned. He had not intended to show his vulnerabilities. He had not thought himself capable of such a thing. Yet in that moment, with Elara’s eyes on him, he had done so without hesitation. And she, in turn, had done thesame.
“You knew this would happen,” Zar’Ryn said, his voice low and edged with accusation. His gaze bore into the Custodian, unyielding. “You planned it.”
“I guided you,” it admitted, though its expression revealed no triumph, no sense of victory. “The truth was already within you both. Imerely created the space for it to emerge.”
Zar’Ryn’s anger simmered, but it was no longer directed solely at the Custodian. It churned with something deeper—discomfort, perhaps, at the thought that he had been maneuvered into exposing his deepest self. Yet, beneath that anger lay something unexpected. Relief. Elara knew who he was, what he was, and she had not turnedaway.
“You manipulated us,” he said, his voice cold. “You forced us to endure pain for your trial.”
The Custodian met his gaze evenly. “And yet, you are stronger for it. You have faced yourselves and each other. Vulnerability is the foundation of trust, Warrior. Without it, you cannot stand together. And if you cannot stand together, you cannot hope to survive what lies ahead.”
Zar’Ryn’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The truth in its words rankled, even as it resonated within him. He looked to Elara, her gaze steady despite the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes. The bond between them pulsed softly, aquiet affirmation of what they had shared.
“Very well,” Zar’Ryn said at last, his voice steady. “We have passed your trial. What comes next?”
The Custodian’s expression did not change, but its voice carried an ominous weight. “The third and final trial awaits. It is the Trial of Sacrifice.”
Zar’Ryn’s blood turned cold at its words, but he did not flinch. He reached for Elara’s hand, her fingers curling instinctively around his as he faced the Custodian.
“That is not the trial we chose. We were supposed to do the Trial of Trust.”
The Custodian simply smiled, though it held no warmth or humor. “And I have changed it from trust to sacrifice. Prepare yourselves.”