26. Tyrxie
Miracle
A lmost three weeks have passed since we met Krogoth and Rocks. I smile, remembering our long conversations aboard their massive Scythian Battlebarge. Like me, Rocks had her human name, lost among all the titles and honorable labels she’d picked up from being with Krogoth.
She spoke casually about completing the Proving. My jaw fell open hearing all the crazy encounters she survived—from beasts and murderous Klendathians—like something from my darkest nightmares. Rocks’ eyes would glaze over, recounting the events as if reliving them again, but she remained so humble.
She’s so graceful and strong.
It was only when I spoke to the Klendathians that I got a sense of the magnitude of her actions—the first non-Klendathian to complete their sacred Proving ritual and the first Chieftainess in over two hundred years. The males regard her with almost mystical significance, as if she’s a harbinger of their people’s glorious revival.
After everything I’ve seen and done—maybe they’re right.
We also spoke about Earth—I bombarded the poor woman with endless questions. Every answer prompted more questions, leading to countless rushed queries. I had a general sense from the Nebian records, but with her help, she filled in the gaps, giving me a deeper sense of the place and people. Rocks said she was from a country called the United States of America. It seems like knowing your country of origin is significant on Earth, each region having a diverse and unique take on cultures and peoples. It excites me even now, thinking about traveling to experience each country—with Xandor by my side; I know we’ll have a lot of fun.
The best part was when Rocks showed me her strange rectangular human device—a cell phone. It reminded me of a wrist console, only archaic. Yet when she showed me her many pictures from Earth, I gasped in delight. It looked so bright there with its yellow, glowing sun, a bit like Xandors eye—a good omen. It was strange seeing so many faces like mine. I’m so used to being the odd one, drawing curious glances and open disdain. No powerful empire to call home, no glorious history—no nothing.
“Are you well, my love?” Xandor asks, peering over his massive shoulder, his usual easy smile on his lips. It always warms my heart to see him beaming at me. I don’t think he’ll ever understand how much it means to me; how grateful I am for that simple gesture. For most of my life, hiding from others, their looks of scorn and later predatory lusts—that’s all changed now, ever since Xandor exploded into my life.
He saved me.
“You have that look on your face,” Xandor laughs, pointing at my brow. “Where your mouth scrunches up and you stare at the ground like you’re looking for a missing credit chit.” His face turns concerned as he pats his heavy arcweave armor. “Wait, actually, where is my new wrist console?”
I giggle at his silly antics. “Is it on your ankle?” I suggest scrutinizing my towering Klendathian Mortakin-Kai.
Mortakin-Kai...
The word once so strange and foreign now rolls off the tongue like it’s always been there, a part of us. It was only a few days ago that Xandor and I entered the enormous building with the spiraled tower—Lanaisor, he called it. My love prepared me, in a way only he could, detailing with complete accuracy every event within the vision.
Despite his forewarning, the experience still almost overwhelmed my senses. I played the part of the Klendathian Goddess Dranuxia. Well, Xandor said they were Gods, but they never struck me as particularly Godlike, other than their powers—the same ones we possess. They were rude and full of arrogance, as flawed as any mortal, perhaps more than most.
Are these the same entities he worships currently? The ones that give me that strange dream?
“Ah, there it is!” Xandor declares in triumph, patting his wrist console, which dangles from one of the many leather latches at his belt. “You know, wrist consoles are a terrible design if you’re missing an arm.” Xandor lets out a sigh, “Shame that voiding Prefect didn’t leave me a longer stomp. I could’ve strapped it on there.”
I always feel a pang of sadness and regret when Xandor mentions what happened to him on Nebia, even though he speaks so nonchalantly about it. It’s still too raw, the thought of his pain and suffering like someone ripping my heart out of my chest—and worst of all, I was devastated to learn it was my fault he lost his hand in the first place... why we got separated, leading to his brutal torture.
It eats away at me, the terrible remorse that I may have caused his immense pain and mutilation.
Xandor should hate me, he should curse my name and abandon me for my stupidity. But he never does. His love radiates from him like the violet glow of the massive Klendathor sun above us. When our souls mesh within our bond, there is no doubt—his love burns hotter than a thousand suns. He’ll always love me, always take care of me. His undeserved devotion almost spills tears from my eyes, and I know I’ll always be there for him, too.
I’d give anything to go back and get on that escape pod sooner.
“You knew where your wrist console was,” I challenge him with a laugh, struggling to scale over a massive root from a tree that reaches so high it appears to vanish into the heavens above. “You wouldn’t misplace something so important when you can read the future.”
“Is that so?” Xandor chuckles, steadying me as we travel through the dense Draxxi forest. His home planet is unlike any place I’ve ever been to before, devoid of urban sprawl or artificial stations floating in space. This planet is wild and untamed, the most natural and raw place I’ve ever seen in the universe. There’s a primordial energy here, a sense of something immense and ancient lurking around the impossibly large trees, the immense snow-capped mountains, and the bubbling volcanoes.
I should hate it here, so used to darkness and tight, sterile places to hide. My legs ache and my lungs burn from the long hikes. But the truth is, I’ve never felt so free and alive. The air is so fresh, the water so clean, and the food is delicious and abundant. Even the very woods teem with life. Squeaking and barking echoes through the towering trees, some sounding more ominous than others, but with Xandor at my side, I rest easy.
“Who knows? Maybe I was distracted?” Xandor suggests with a playful leer, his words brushing close to my ear, sending tingles down my spine. “My sexy little puffrio, shining so bright, obscuring all the paths.” He supports me with a guiding hand along my back.
I snicker at his words, though I remain unconvinced, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Didn’t you say only after our mating did the visions give you peace?” I smile, remembering his words, yearning to help him, to ease his burdens, so he can relax and just be himself.
“You got me,” Xandor laughs, throwing up a hand in surrender. “I knew where the wrist console was. Gods, you don’t miss much, do you?” He asks, as he unsheathes his massive laser sword to clear large dense red-leafed bushes with blinding speed.
Says Xandor, the one who always finds me, always cuts straight to my core—uncovering my heart.
His words trouble me, as my mind reels, trying to comprehend Xandor’s thoughts. He knew where his wrist console was, yet pretended he didn’t. But he would’ve known I’d catch his lie and even now probably knows my next and future responses... How can any person stay sane and grounded knowing so much? “You don’t have to do that, Xandor,” I plead, my voice surprisingly emotional.
Xandor halts, turning with his sword resting against his shoulder. “Do what?” he questions with a neutral face.
“Even now you’re doing it,” I sigh, glaring at him as he scrunches his face in yet more fake confusion! “You don’t have to pretend you don’t know things for my sake. I just want you to be happy,” I finish with my eyes downcast.
“You really don’t miss anything, my smart Mortakin-Kis,” Xandor approaches, the branches and leaves crunching under his immense weight. He sheathes his sword in a smooth single motion to place a finger beneath my chin, drawing my gaze upward. His intense golden gaze takes my breath away. “Remember what you did when I said I might’ve lost my wrist console?”
“No.”
“You laughed, and then when you called my buff?”
“I laughed.”
“And that’s why I do it,” Xandor says softly, his voice a warm caress. “I see every possibility, every outcome. But I choose the ones where I see you smile, where I hear your laughter. That’s what makes me happy, that’s what keeps me tethered to the present, Rebecca.”
My heart swells at his words, and relief floods through me. “I was just afraid of losing you, Xandor. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you, knowing so much.” Placing my hands on his cheeks, he leans down to rest his forehead against mine, creating an intimate space just for us.
“You’ll never lose me. Not in this life or in the next. I promise.” His lips brush against mine, massaging softly, dancing along the outside. Just as I moan, leaning into him, wanting his tongue inside me, he pulls back. “We can’t linger here,” he says, casting glances towards the sky. “Voiding arrohawks swooping this way soon. A real mood killer, trust me,” he grins.
I’m only vaguely aware of what an arrohawk is, but suddenly I now hate them. Xandor continues to lead us through the dense woods that seem endless. The immense red-colored trees tower into the skies, surrounded by dense bushes and brush as flickers of purple light struggle to penetrate the sprawling canopy above.
“Do you feel any different, after our Mortakin-Tok?” Xandor asks, as he swings his long sword through the bushes with effortless ease. “You know, we’re only the third couple in over two hundred years.”
Third?
“It feels special, like solidifying our relationship, making it official, you know?” I reply, thinking about how difficult it was. Some cultures have ceremonies and bonding rituals, but nothing like the Klendathians’ Mortakin-Tok—more a test of survival and endurance, something that must be earned or proven. We had to fight wave after wave of horrible robots that melted people to such nothingness that even I couldn’t heal them. All the while, two other Gods with the powers of Krogoth and Rocks fought some awful machine monster called the Void Bringer. “I’m just glad we made it to the end.”
“The end was the best part!” Xandor laughs, and my cheeks heat, remembering how we were transported into the beautiful transparent room in space. I was so transfixed by the view I didn’t notice I was voiding naked until Xandor told me—what came next was as inevitable and more enjoyable than Klendathor’s rising sun. “But we survived until the very end. The Gods have blessed us heavily.”
Have they?
“But we haven’t tested our abilities since the Mortakin-Tok?” I ask, sensing Xandor’s reluctance for some unknown reason. With my eyes closed, I can feel Xandor’s presence as vividly as a location on a wrist console map. His general sense of well-being fills my consciousness, like we’re two halves of the same soul. A tingle runs down my spine as a gust of wind tussles my hair. “I can feel you through our bond, stronger than ever.” I smile, happy we’re even closer now.
“Good,” Xandor grins over his shoulder. “What you sense now is how I found you on Omega Flux Station.”
I can imagine it. “And all this time, I thought you were just an excellent tracker,” I jest between heavy breaths, struggling to keep up with the extensive travel and Xandor’s long strides.
“I’m a good hunter, but not that good!” Xandor laughs. “Just a little longer. We’re nearly at Draxru, my love.” His attentiveness sends a flutter through my chest.
Moments later, through the dense trees, I spot the two towering wooden statues of the Klendathian Gods. They seem to represent the deities from the Mortakin-Tok vision, but these immense figures convey an awe-inspiring sense of grandeur: the male heroic and strong in his victorious pose, the beautiful female serene and graceful.
We’d only stayed briefly in Draxru before setting off to complete the Mortakin-Tok, but like before, I’m still mesmerized by it. The wooden buildings, some seemingly grown within the very trees, others constructed with intricate wood and beautiful runic patterns, captivate me. But it’s the hulking Klendathian males milling around that catch my attention.
On Nebia, I felt like a giant, but here, it’s as if I’m a child. Everything is oversized, and everyone towers over me. Unlike the warriors on Krogoth’s ship, the males here are older, many with longer hair flecked with gray. My heart aches as I see many with missing limbs or disfigured faces, marked by angry scars and burns—just like my Xandor.
I look at my hands, wishing I could do something for them, but it’s beyond me. Xandor clutches me tightly in a delightful, possessive way as we approach the raging bonfire at the heart of Draxru. As if I would ever leave him, or my eyes would ever wonder from my golden hero. Despite the Klendathian’s impairments, they are a good-natured bunch, quick to smile and offer greetings. Their imposing physicality is a little frightening, but their warmth fills me with relief.
Many incline their heads towards my love, muttering ‘Xandor,’ while their gaze shifts to me. Instead of disdain or naked lust, they offer warm smiles that don’t linger too long.
“You’d think the lazy znats would grow bored jabbering all day,” Xandor chuckles, passing the large furred seating area bustling with Klendathians who rest with plates of food, conversing with one another. “Losing a limb never stopped, Rylar. If anything, it drove him.”
I’ve never met this Rylar, but I assume he’s strong, like Xandor. My love holds himself to such high standards that he feels disdain when he meets people who fall short of his ideals—especially his fellow Klendathians. But when I see the injured males, all I feel is pity and sorrow. Combined with their lack of females or children, I’m impressed they can smile at all.
The Klendathians are strength personified.
The heat from the roaring bonfire becomes uncomfortable, sending flames flickering into the air. Xandor halts, turning to me with a deep breath.
“Oh, you’re planning something,” I say, quickly, knowing that expression well.
“Maybe,” Xandor retorts with a smirk, but before I can reply, he awkwardly unclasps the latches on his heavy gray armor. It’s jarring to see him cut down Nebian battlesuits with ease but struggle to undress himself—and it’s my fault. My remorse and love compel me to help, straining to reach around his broad body, unlocking fasteners. “Thanks, Tyrxie,” he says with surprising timidity.
His massive chest plate crashes to the ground, revealing his alluring physique—all lean, hard muscles that seem alive with the dancing, glowing light of the bonfire. The only blemish on his perfect body is his missing arm, cruelly ending in a stump at his shoulder. The numerous lounging Klendathians hoot and whistle at us.
“Giving us a show, Xandor?” one calls out, drawing laughter from everyone.
I feel my pulse rising with nerves, wondering what craziness Xandor has planned.
“Oh, it’s a show alright,” Xandor says, his gaze flicking to the crowd, then back to me with an intensity that hitches my breath. “One for the ages,” he intones like a solemn vow.
My mouth feels dry as Xandor’s golden eye glows. Already in our bond, his love for me roars as strongly as the bonfire beside us.
“It’s time to show them who you really are,” he says with a soft, encouraging smile, warming me to my core. “Who you’ve become.” My heart soars at his bold words as our souls mingle and dance within.
Xandor smiles as his golden eye now swirls with my green. He kneels before me, still taller than I am, taking my hand in his and guiding me to touch his face. The gesture, his unspoken wish. My hands glow green as my heart hammers in my chest. Something feels different with Xandor’s confident knowing, and the healing gifts I control reaching higher than ever before.
Touching his handsome face, I close my eyes, probing his body with a new level of clarity. It’s like repairing a circuit board, the conduits sometimes broken or the nodes damaged or weak. Like before, I sense the missing line that is his arm, and the missing point that represents his poor eye. But there’s nothing to fix—no joins to patch, just an absence.
The emerald power within me surges, almost overflowing, yearning to be used. I fill the voids with a warm, pulsating light. I can feel Xandor shift under my touch. Our souls are so close now they seem almost merged. My essence intertwines with his, and slowly my energy takes form, shaping itself into something new. A warm sensation spreads through my fingers as the power channels into his arm and eye, filling the emptiness with life.
A gasp escapes Xandor’s lips. His muscles twitch, and I can feel the new connections forming. It’s as if the essence of life itself is knitting his body back together. The missing arm begins to take shape, bones forming first, followed by muscles, tendons, and finally skin. His eye regenerates with a burst of golden light, and he blinks, adjusting to the new vision.
The process feels like it lasts an eternity, yet only moments pass. When it’s done, I open my eyes to see Xandor looking at me with both his eyes, his hand flexing and unflexing as he marvels at his restored arm. He looks at me with an intensity that makes my heart swell.
“You did it,” he whispers, his voice filled with wonder. “This is your glorious destiny, Rebecca.”
The crowd’s collective gasp and murmurs of disbelief make it hard to hear him. They exclaim, “Gods!” as they approach, eyes wide with awe at Xandor’s miraculous transformation.
“I’m so glad.” Tears of joy blur my vision as I smile up at him. “I... I felt so guilty that you suffered and were maimed because of me.”
Xandor stands, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. “What I suffered and lost was the greatest trade in the universe. I would pay any price, endure any pain, to keep you with me in this reality.”
I press my forehead against his, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady beat of his heart. “I love you so voiding much, Xandor.”
“And I you,” he nods, his eyes glowing with a mixture of love and gratitude. “Our love blazes brightly for centuries, banishing all darkness.”