Glowing Spinels
S amira led Kisan through the tunnels towards what appeared to be a settlement, a sprawling network of caverns lit by torches and glowing water pools.
The Vaelorii, long, lean, supple in slick suits, began to appear, eyes flicking with curiosity.
They offered her salutes.
‘Commander,’ some murmured.
The Rider arched a brow, surprised at the level of deference she received.
When the locals turned their eyes on him, it was to flick inquisitive looks at his non-native armored suit and strange appearance.
What he noted, though, was the lack of disdain in their regard, just pure curiosity.
His heart lurched. He enjoyed the fact that, from what he could tell, most of the Vaelorii considered him unknown, a stranger without history, guilt, or condemnation.
That shit was so refreshing that he smirked, despite himself.
Samira led him into a shielded cavern.
A garrison, from the looks of it, a pretty well-run one, he surmised.
Samira gestured for him to sit at a rough-hewn table. ‘Welcome to Thalassi,’ she murmured. ‘The subterranean insurgent city below Thalassa.’
Around them, rebels in uniforms moved with purpose. Their eyes flicked over his ink, meta glow, and menace.
He met their gazes with a cool stare of his own.
The garrison’s communication hub, the nerve center, was tucked into a side enclosure.
Luminescent water relays glowed as messages were sent and received. The liquid channels were crafted to transmit ripples of encoded information across the Vaelorian network.
Operators sat at consoles, their gel gloves and fingers flying over touchscreens as they coordinated with what appeared to be other units across the planet.
The buzz of machinery blended with the soft murmur of voices, creating a tense but focused atmosphere.
A sizable holo-display projected incoming reports, its sharp light illuminating the workers’ unwavering faces.
A young warrior placed a steaming cup of kahawa before him, its earthy aroma filling the air. A selection of nuts and fruits also appeared on a platter.
‘You’re feeding me now?’ Kisan rasped, his tone dry.
‘A small concession,’ Samira said, sitting across from him.
He dragged his eyes back to her and sucked his teeth.
Fokk, how did every glance and each word from her feel like salt in a wound that refused to close?
Still, the pull of her was relentless. His anger fought to drown out the ache of longing, but it was a losing battle.
‘Fascinating,’ Kisan said, eyes narrowed on the beguiling woman before him. ‘So, talk to me. I might help when I know the whole story.’
Samira leaned back, her silver and gold eyes thoughtful as she regarded him. ‘Fine,’ she said finally.
‘I lead the clans of Thalassa, one of the three last free continents of Orilia XIV. When the conflict began, my husband, Ryen, was a general in our forces. I was a part-time supply grunt, assisting in logistics and training. But when Ryen died in the early days of the battle protecting our people, I had to step up. There was no one else.’
His heart constricted at the mention that she’d once been married. To a war hero, no less.
He mused about the fact; his bitterness against her waning somewhat was unexpected, and compassion rose instead.
Her speech tightened, but she continued. ‘The cyborgs under Emperor Marius wanted to conscript our people—turn them into their twisted army. They also sought the gems from our lakes, the source of Orilia’s trading power. We refused. So they burned our forests, torched our homes, and drove us underground.’
‘They didn’t just take our land,’ she said, her gaze distant, as though replaying the memory. ‘The Corilians have been stealing our lifeblood—our water. They drained the lakes and emptied the reservoirs. Everything we’d depended on for generations. Gone.’
Kisan leaned forward, his hands resting on the table between them.
Her words hung heavy in the air, and he could see the strain in her posture, the tension in her jaw.
‘The first time they came,’ Samira continued, her voice tightening, ‘we didn’t understand. We thought they were targeting specific sites—strategic points. Then, we realized it wasn’t a strategy. It was annihilation.’
Her hands tightened into fists as she described the sight. ‘They used massive pumps, so loud they drowned out every other sound that descended on the shores. Metallic arms extended into the water, pulling it into their monstrous tanks.’
Kisan’s mind painted the image: vast metal behemoths perched like parasites on the edges of pristine lakes, their engines roaring as they sucked the life from the planet.
‘The reservoirs were the worst,’ she added. ‘They drained them all, funneling into pipes that led to storage silos surrounding Cygnus. Those silos—’ Samira’s voice cracked, but she pushed on. ‘They now stand like sentinels around the city, towering over the wasteland they created. Anytime we tried to attack and gain control of the tanks, we were met with overwhelming force every time we tried to get near. They guard those silos like treasure.’
Kisan’s fists clenched, sucking his teeth. ‘What did they do with it?’
Samira’s shoulders slumped. ‘Strange ships would come, sleek and silent, appearing out of nowhere. They’d dock with the silos, and the water would be transferred—an entire silo emptied in hours. Then the ships would leave, vanishing into the stars.’
Her eyes met his, brimming with helpless fury. ‘We don’t know where they’re taking it. We only know what they’ve left behind—a planet drying up, turning to dust. We live here because, on the surface, my people are so desperate for a single drink. Children cried because their throats were too dry to swallow.’
The Rider’s throat tightened at her words.
The despair in her voice mirrored the devastation of her people. He imagined the shimmering lakes reduced to cracked basins, the rivers choked into silence, and the vibrant ecosystem of Orilia XIV left gasping for life.
Samira’s voice dropped to a near whisper, trembling with anger. ‘Do you know what it’s like to hear the pumps start at night? To wake to the sound of our planet’s veins being drained dry? The silence after is worse because it reminds you there’s nothing left.’
Kisan’s gaze softened, though his growl remained hard. ‘Why the mask?’
‘Like I said, I discovered it while studying holo-footage of your time as Ankis,’ Samira said, her tone growing more intense. ‘To be honest, Sharin, my engineer, first brought it to my attention. We were fascinated by how it amplified your kinetic pulses, disrupting machines. My people’s fluid kinetics only work through water. We can’t manipulate the air or disrupt electronics the way you did. So your artifact is the key to bridging that gap.’
She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. ‘With it, we can fight the cyborgs on equal footing. We’ve already driven them back in some areas, but we’re running out of time. And there’s something darker controlling them—something not of Crat origin. It’s consolidating its power in the Fringe, and Orilia is just the beginning.’
Kisan studied her, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim light. ‘So you recognized who I was,’ he said. ‘Ankis, the marauder, the destroyer, and still, you seduced me.’
Samira didn’t flinch. ‘It was for the cause. However, I also discerned the purity of your soul, Rider,’ she said. ‘Frankly, I’ve seen many good men turned into cyborgs and forced to kill their families. Being a good person isn’t about what you’ve done in the past—it’s about the choices you make in the present. I got wind of your work as a guard on Eden II and saw how well you treated vulnerable women and children. I sensed I could trust you. That you’re a good man, working hard for penance. That’s sufficient enough for me.’
Her words struck deeper than Kisan expected, silencing him for a moment.
He leaned back, his expression unreadable and his chest’s tightness unexpected.
‘I see,’ he rasped, seeking to avoid a further minefield of emotions. ‘Back to your cyborg army. You’ve quite the conundrum to deal with.’
Samira nodded, her posture relaxing as she took an inhale. ‘So support this cause. Please help us. The mask is the key to saving our people.’
Kisan’s gaze flicked to her face, then to the rebels bustling around the grotto. Despite himself, he detected stirrings of empathy—an emotion he thought he’d lost long ago.
He met her eyes, his growl firm. ‘Your argument is compelling, and I’ll think about it. But first, I want to see it.’
Samira’s lips quirked into a smile. ‘Fair enough. Come with me.’
‘Have at it,’ Samira said, gesturing toward the contested artifact.
She stood at the edge of the workbench in Sharin’s engineering lab, watching Kisan’s every move.
His tall frame seemed to fill the room, his intense aqua eyes fixed on the mask before him.
The intricate object glinted under the overhead lights, its black spinel and embedded circuits a haunting reminder of his past.
‘You mean that? Because all I want to do is take it and get the fokk out of here.’
Samira tilted her head, glanced at Sharin, and then sighed. ‘Please be civil,’ she told him.
‘Always,’ he drawled.
Their familiar flame sparked for a moment.
Kisan’s gaze on her shifted to a smolder, then sliced away.
With a chin jerk, he stepped forward.
His hand hovered over the mask, the air between it and his palm crackling with energized ions.
Her head engineer, Sharin, adjusted her goggles and muttered, ‘It’s inert. It hasn’t powered up since we got it. If you can wake it, I’d be impressed.’
Kisan didn’t reply.
He reached out, his fingers brushing the surface of the artifact.
The instant contact sent a ripple of light coursing through its veins.
‘What the hell?’ Sharin whispered.
‘They’re my metanoids, millions of nanobots, crafted just for my physiology, by would you guess, the crats.’
Samira jolted in shock. ‘You have crat tech in you?’
He nodded. ‘Long story. It was why I recognized what the cyborgs were the second I set eyes on them. Once you see one, you never forget.’
Energy pulsed under his suit and skin, and he emitted a hum. His noids glow intensified as they linked with the dormant circuits on the spindled artifact.
The mask came alive, its embedded crystals flaring to life in sharp, green pulses.
Sharin stepped back, her eyes dilated in shock. ‘Well, I’ll be damned.’
The engineer’s breath hitched, her eyes flicking from Kisan and back to the mask. ‘You’re connected to it.’
Kisan’s rasp was dry and matter-of-fact. ‘It’s more than a connection. It’s a part of me. It knows me, and I it.’
‘You owe me a story,’ Sharin said, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘Depends on whether anyone on this rock deserves to hear it after your leader lifted my shit.’
His eyes slid to Samira’s, and their gazes locked, caught in a war between defiance and flaring attraction.
‘What plans do you have for it?’
‘As I said, it seems to have the capability to disrupt the Crat’s technology, cut through their shields, at least, that’s the theory. We’d have to test it in person.’
‘If only we could get it working,’ Sharin said.
‘It’s working, just not for you,’ Kisan growled.
Sharin turned to Samira, who sighed and swiveled her head to the Rider. ‘We need your help, and we fast. Time is not on our side.’
His jaw ticked. ‘You need more than speed, trust me. With tech, this intricate, even my knowledge might not be enough to craft what you need.’
‘Perhaps if you and Sharin -.’
The sharp, staccato sound of explosions in the distance cut through Samira’s words.
The ground trembled, the vibration traveling up through Samira’s boots.
Sharin’s tools rattled on the bench, and the mask’s glow dimmed momentarily as the energy in the room shifted.
Samira raced to a monitor and turned it on, swiping through screens. ‘The Corilians are retaliating. Fokk , we knew they might, just not this soon. They’ve broken through the first level of shields in the upper tunnels. They’re moving in.’
She pressed a button, and klaxons began to sound throughout Thalassi’s underground caves.
In between the alarms, she shouted into the mic. ‘All units, get armed and ready for battle.’
Whirling away from the console, she sprinted for the door and came to a sliding halt. ‘Damn,’ she growled, turning around, eyes falling on the Rider. ‘What the hell am I going to do with you?’
Kisan folded his arms over his chest and shrugged his shoulders, smirking. ‘You tell me.’
She huffed in exasperation. ‘You can either stay here or fight with us.’
He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Didn’t you say it’s not my struggle?’
‘ Fokk , Sable, I don’t have time for word wars. Make up your mind.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘A Rider never turns down a chance to beat the shit out of the enemy.’
‘So you’re coming?’
He arched a brow. ‘ Fokk yeah.’
Kisan straightened and reached for the mask still glowing on the table surface. ‘Bring it on.’
Samira glanced at him, torn. ‘You intend to use that?’
He met her gaze, his voice firm. ‘ Naam , every advantage we can get, ay?’
Kisan lifted the spinel device and placed it over his face.
The device latched onto him, its embedded screws burrowing into the hidden implants in his skull.
The hiss of metal meeting flesh filled the room, followed by his sharp intake of breath.
His entire body tensed as the artifact tightened into place, its circuits sparking against his skin.
Samira reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. ‘Kisan—’
‘I’m fine,’ he bit out, his voice strained but steady.
The unusual veil completed its integration, and the Rider’s physique radiated with a new, unsettling power.
The kinetic spinel visor glowed, its intricate facets shifting between opaque black and translucent green as it synchronized with his bio-life force.
The air around him seemed to thrum, vibrating with an unseen force as if the mask were alive and feeding off his essence.
Metal tendrils extended from its edges, locking into the neural implants beneath his skull.
He shuddered, his jaw tightening against the sharp, intrusive sensation. The hiss of machinery and the whir of spinning energy filled the chamber.
Then, his face began to transform.
A series of vibrational oscillations distorted his features, rendering them both unfamiliar and terrifying.
His sculpted jawline blurred and shifted, and his luminous green eyes burned brighter, piercing the translucent facets of the spinel.
The glow of his mask pulsed in time with his heartbeat, casting eerie patterns of light and shadow across the walls. His already imposing presence transformed into something otherworldly and dangerous.
His vocalization carried a metallic resonance layered with echoes of past ominousness when he spoke. ‘Get to the rally point, Samira. I’ll be right behind you.’
She hesitated, her fingers still resting on his arm.
His muscles, sinewed from years of combat, were coiled with tension, vibrating with restrained kinetic energy.
She sensed the raw power emanating from him and the air charged with his volatile might.
‘Kisan?’ she murmured, husky with awe and concern.
His head rotated toward her, and the mask’s shifting light created a distorted image of his face. ‘I said, I’m fine.’
His tone was biting and hard, the menace in his inflection undeniable.
The mask amplified everything about him—the substance of his authority, the quiet danger in his presence, the simmering rage that threatened to consume him.
Samira nodded, her jaw tightening as she twisted to Sharin. ‘Let’s head out. Now.’
The engineer glanced at Kisan, who was uneasy, but she obeyed without question and hastily packed her tools and equipment.
Both women’s boots echoed through the cavern in seconds as they disappeared into the darkness.