2. Thyros #2
Zapharos crossed his arms, his now-golden aura kept steady but was edged with irritation. “The emperor’s dogs are already circling. This is going to be delicate.”
Nadine glanced over her shoulder at Ella, and a mischievous spark lit her eyes. “Oh, wait until you meet Ashley. She’s something else."
Ella nodded conspiratorially, "I’ve heard stories. Is it true that the first time she met Commander Xandros, she put a blaster to his head?”
Nadine's laugh burst out, bright and startled. Ella giggled with her, the sound was light enough to almost make the viewing window feel smaller, warmer.
I tuned them out.
Because something else had hooked into me.
A pull. Not the familiar, cold drag of the Abyss.
Not the whispering hunger of the Harrowed One that had dogged me since the moment of my forging.
This was different, sharp, alive, personal.
It tugged behind my ribs, right where that old, unwelcome heat always lived.
The flaw. The longing I had never named.
It flared now, sudden and fierce, like a blade finding the exact gap in armor I had worn for eons.
My gaze stayed fixed on the blue marble, but my mind reached outward, tasting the space between us and the planet, stretching across the fleet hanging in orbit like a noose of gold and steel.
The pull sharpened. Demanded. Her. Not a name.
Not yet. Just the certainty that whoever—or whatever—waited out there had to be dealt with first. I spoke before I could stop myself.
“We need to talk to him first.”
The words fell heavy into the chatter. Ella and Nadine’s voices cut off mid-giggle. Dravok’s head snapped toward me. Zapharos’ golden aura flared, bright and questioning.
“Who?” Zapharos asked, shifting into the tone he used when battle lines were being drawn.
I didn't answer. I could not. Not yet. The pull was still coiling through me, tightening like a vow I wasn't aware I had made. My fingers flexed at my sides, feeling the phantom weight of the executioner’s blade that had never truly left my grip.
Whatever this was—whatever waited on that soft blue world or in the shadow of those Pandraxian guns—it was not something I could explain with words that would satisfy them.
Not yet.
Dravok narrowed his eyes, his shadows curling tighter around his frame. “Thyros?”
I met his gaze, then Zapharos’, then the two humans who were watching me as if I had just spoken in the language of the wound itself. I said nothing more.
The blue marble turned beneath us, innocent and ancient and full of secrets it had tried to forget. Somewhere in the space between my flaw and that distant pull, the war I had been born for shifted its shape once again.
Zapharos studied me a moment longer, then inclined his head. He moved to the comm station without further question, like the decisive, ever-practical Praetor of War he was. As if they had already anticipated us, the Superior Commander’s ship acknowledged us immediately.
“Permission granted to dock at Bay Alpha-Seven,” the officer on the other end stated. “The Commander is waiting.”
The ship we approached was a behemoth of imperial precision.
Golden hull plating gleamed under running lights; every angle was sharp, every surface engineered for both beauty and war.
From the viewport, it looked like a predator dressed in silk: elegant lines, layered shielding, weapons arrays folded with lethal grace.
Nothing like the raw, scarred, battle-worn vessels I preferred.
This was order made manifest. Control. The kind of vessel that believed it could tame the void itself.
We docked with a soft, almost courteous clang. The airlock cycled. When the doors parted, the corridor beyond was wide, brightly lit, and lined with Pandraxian honor guards. Their postures were rigid, perfect. I could respect the discipline even if the polish set my teeth on edge.
Zapharos led the way. Dravok flanked him, his aura rippling slightly. He was on edge. The females and I brought up the rear. The pull was stronger now, a steady drumbeat in my blood.
The Superior Commander waited in the primary reception hall.
Xandros. Tall even for a Pandraxian, broad-shouldered, he seemed capable enough of carrying the weight of an empire; his purple skin was marked by the scars of command.
Beside him stood a human female—Ashley, his mate, was my guess—arms crossed, chin lifted, eyes sharp enough to cut.
She wore a simple uniform that somehow looked like armor.
Nadine had not exaggerated; this one had fire.
Zapharos and Dravok exchanged curt nods with Xandros, old acquaintances, it seemed. Dravok’s gaze flicked to Ashley with something almost like wary respect.
“Commander Xandros,” Zapharos greeted in an expressionless voice. “We appreciate the welcome.”
Xandro's eyes swept over us, assessing us, one after the other. “Zapharos. Dravok. The emperor warned me you were coming.” His gaze landed on me last. “And this is?”
“Our executioner, Thyros.” Zapharos introduced me.
I inclined my head, right before the pull slammed into me like a physical blow. I still didn't know what it was or where it came from, but the urge to explore it was becoming like an itch under my skin that I couldn't reach.
The females moved forward. Nadine stepped straight to Ashley, pulling her into a quick, fierce hug. “Told you I’d see you again.”
Ashley returned the embrace with a grin that looked more like a challenge. “Took you long enough, Phillips. Looks like things between humans and the Arkhevari are working out.”
Ella hung back a moment, then offered Ashley her hand. “Ella. Zapharos’… Aelyth.”
Ashley shook it firmly. “Heard about you, too. Welcome to the crazy.”
The other males wasted no time. Zapharos and Xandros fell into the familiar rhythm of commanders measuring each other—territory, authority, the situation on Earth.
Dravok inserted himself with his usual precision, questioning the Pandraxian presence in orbit, demanding clarity on the Cryon remnants still skulking in the shadows.
Voices rose and fell in that careful, measured way males used when deciding who would lead the coming storm.
I listened for perhaps thirty heartbeats. Then I’d had enough.
The pull was a living thing now, clawing at my ribs. This was not the time for elegant words or imperial posturing. I stepped forward, my aura flared dark and cold, the executioner’s presence filling the hall like the first breath of Nox Eternum. “Enough.”
All eyes turned to me. Xandros’ brow lifted. Ashley’s hand drifted toward her hip, habit, I suspected, and brushed lightly against her blaster. I met the Commander’s gaze directly. Energy surged between us like a blade drawn in the dark.
“We did not come for pleasantries or to debate jurisdiction,” I clarified. “The darkness we fight does not respect borders or chains of command. It is already here. And if we waste time measuring who holds the biggest fleet, it will feast while we argue.”
Zapharos shot me a warning look. Dravok’s shadows stilled.
I didn't care. The flaw inside me—the heat, the longing, the question the Abyss had never been able to answer—was ready to assert itself if necessary.
I needed to find the source of the pull.
Xandros' mind was closed off. Or as closed off as any mortals could be. Still, I was able to pull enough fragments to accuse, “Superior Commander, you’re holding something back.”
The room blinked around me. For a moment, all the elegant masks faltered. Zapharos stiffened, Dravok’s aura flared, and even Ashley’s chin dipped a fraction, betraying something like respect. Xandros only smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile.
“You are direct, Arkhevari. But you already knew that.
So let me be direct too." He stepped in front of me, "Stay the drek out of mine and Ashley's head; that goes for all of you.
" He glared warningly from one of us to the other.
He glanced at his mekarry with enough devotion to nearly touch my heart. If it wasn't debatable that I had one.
Ashley shrugged and didn’t look away. The female had a death wish, I decided, but I almost admired her. Xandros folded his arms; his bulk threw a shadow across the proudly displayed credenza. It didn’t mean a thing to me.
“What do you think we’re hiding?” He made it sound like a challenge.
“You found something.” That was about everything that I had been able to extract from his mind, that's how closed off it was. An impressive feat. I intentionally rippled my own darkness around my skin, enough to make my aura glow black, a reminder of the role I could play if I chose.
A moment’s silence, as if the words had dangerous weight in this palace of power. Then, Ashley snorted once, dry amusement. “I thought we were allies, right?"
“Not if you're keeping secrets,” I clarified.
To my surprise, she grinned at that. “Fair enough.”
Zapharos glowered, but I sensed his question was the same as mine. Dravok had stopped even pretending to be polite. Nadine outright fidgeted, unable to keep her energy caged.
Ashley broke the impasse. “We did find something. A ship. It didn’t respond to hails. We thought it might be a Cryon advance, but it…” She looked to Xandros, who shrugged, giving her leave. “It wasn’t. Not even close.”
"I imagine ships try to get to Earth all the time now," Dravok interjected, although he probably knew as well as I did that wherever this was going wasn't your normal fly-by.
"They do, but nothing like this… " Ashley looked to Xandros again, who shrugged one more time. "This type of ship wasn’t made anywhere in the known universe."
That statement raised even Zapharos' eyebrow. Nadine's energy took up another notch. "Oh." Her eyes practically gleamed with excitement.
Dravok leaned in, all predatory attention. “Show us.”