27. Epilogue
Tyrxie
I pinch the bridge of my nose, a futile gesture to ward off the fatigue that has been building for weeks. I sit in the chieftain’s hall—Krogoth’s hall—an immense space seemingly carved from the trunk of an ancient, colossal tree. This place hums with untold stories. The air carries the faint scent of sweat and ales. Every scuff and scrape on the massive, ancient table hints at a tale. The walls are adorned with strange trophies, each more impressive than the last.
Above me, a massive white beast with a single red eye snarls down, a fearsome guardian that I choose to believe is protecting me. Xandor had a seat erected for me on the raised platform at the end of the hall, just before the Chieftain and Chieftainess chairs. For weeks Klendathians have come from far and wide seeking my help.
Despite my exhaustion and the mild headaches, I refuse to stop. I know this is what I was destined to do: to remove the pain and suffering of others. First, I healed my own internal struggles with Xandor’s help, and now I’ll help others. I will not waste this precious gift, profoundly thankful for whatever strange gods granted me this power. They allowed me to heal my Xandor, to rectify my awful mistake—fulfilling my dearest wish. Now I’ll repay them because it’s the right thing to do.
Footsteps draw my attention. Another Klendathian approaches. His gait is strained, carrying an uneven rhythm with a metallic clang. He’s a weathered soul, with much white in his long orange hair and bushy beard. His garb looks strange compared to the other Klendathians; instead of leathers, he wears thick furs, wrapped tightly around his dusky face. Brutal, long-healed burns mar his features, extending almost to the bone. The injuries have left no muscle or tendon, just thin, twisted stretches of scarred skin.
A chill runs through me as I look at him, compelling me to wrap myself in Xandor’s half-cloak that he left for me. “Hail, Kor-Kis. My name is Crogon.” His voice is deep as he performs the Klendathian salute. They’ve all started calling me that recently—Kor-Kis. If I wasn’t so sleepy, I’d ask what it means. “I’ve traveled the length of Klendathor in just two weeks to stand before your greatness and fabled beauty.”
His words are too much, causing my face to heat with embarrassment. “Greetings, Crogon. Where did you travel from?” I inquire, beckoning him toward me.
Crogon smiles as he approaches, and I notice one of his arms is synthetic. “I hail from Clan Astranix, the great mountains of Aurnith.” He stands before me, towering, almost as tall and broad as my Xandor despite his age.
My eyes widen at his words, just familiar with enough Klendathor geography to know Aurnith is at the very north of the planet, many hundred of miles away. “Wow... please sit and rest,” I gesture towards a nearby chair equipped with metal restraints—necessary for healing the corrupted youths. “You traveled all that distance just to see me?” I ask in disbelief, filled with shame that I worry about my own fatigue when males like Crogon go to such lengths to reach me.
He sighs, sinking into the chair, his bones stiff as arcweave. “Oh, yes, Kor-Kis. A small price to pay to look upon you and receive your blessing,” he smiles warmly at me, as he searches his thick gray furs. “A gift for your greatness. Not just for me, but for all you’re doing for our people.” He extends his massive, worn hand.
I gasp in amazement, taking the gorgeous carved figurine that fits in my palm. “Is this Elerium?” I exclaim in disbelief, examining the intricate model with wonder. Not only is it beautifully crafted, but I almost choke, realizing it’s a voiding statuette of me! Like a holy relic, my likeness looks serene, dressed in flowing robes with palms raised and facing forward. “Did you make this?”
“Yes, and yes,” Crogon laughs, rich and deep. “It warms my frozen face to see that it pleases you.” I’m left stunned by his amazingly generous gift. That it’s Elerium means it’s worth a small fortune and the significance of my likeness almost moves me to tears. Is this how they see me, a divine figure? It’s almost unbelievable, like they’ve mistaken me for someone else or something.
Many of the Klendathian’s I’ve healed give me gifts—sometimes simple credits, other’s sparkling gems, rich fur clothes, jewelry, or yummy delicacies. In truth, I’m already fabulously wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, but I don’t care. Driven by the pure need to help people—I won’t stop. “I can’t accept this, Crogon. It’s too much.” I push the beautiful figurine towards him.
Crogon exhales, casting his gaze downward. “If you reject my gift, then I’m not worthy of your blessing.” He moves to stand, filling me with sadness.
“No!” I move with haste, urging him to remain seated. “Please sit. I love your gift and will treasure it always.” I smile, tucking the model into my pocket, letting it rest beside my pendant. Another precious treasure. “You relax now.”
He closes his eyes as I bend forward, unclasping his rickety old metal prosthetic leg, wondering how it carried him so far. Next, I pat down his massive arm, locating the source of his synthetic replacement. Near his elbow, I find the base, unclasping the pressurized clamps. It hisses in protest as I pull it through the sleeve of his thick fur coat, letting it rest on the wooden floor.
“Do you have any other prosthetics?” I inquire, placing my fingers against his broad, scared face, opening his eyelids, examining his blue eyes.
“No,” Crogon laughs, “the Gods let me keep the rest.” His jest causes me to giggle.
“How did you lose them?” I ask, already assuming the answer. All the disfigured Klendathians suffered a similar terrible fate. I place both my palms on his face, which feels as rough as scouring paper.
“Gorglaxian conquest. Clean shot on our drop pod. My war was over before it began.” Crogon smiles as I massage his wounded face, letting my essence in my bond build. “Much to my shame. I longed to prove myself to my war brothers on the field of battle... But the Gods had other plans.”
“It’s not too late, Crogon,” I promise him. Despite my fatigue, my heart soars, yearning to help him, moved by his commitment and ardent wish—I will renew his body. My hands glow green as my essence extends into his, finding his old wounds—the remnants of his missing limbs. I spill my soul into them, filling the gaps with new life and hope.
Crogon gasps, and a shudder shakes him. Within his circuit, I sense the new connections bridging, melding together with the old. My energies flow through him, washing away years of fatigue, long-healed burns, worn joints, achy tendons, broken teeth, and weary heart, cleansing him in my emerald bliss. His missing limbs begin to form as I surge within him, carried away by adoration, lost to my sacred duty.
I collapse into my chair, my breath ragged, my mind consumed by tiredness. But still, I’m elated, smiling at Crogon, who marvels, flexing his restored hand and wiggling his new toes. “A miracle,” he mutters, standing tall and proud. He rotates his great limbs as he laughs, moving like a male half his age. “Kor-Kis, you’ve given me a new life.”
His hands find his face, and he gasps in shock as Crogon traces the contours of his new features—the real features that were taken from him. Tears spill from his blue eyes and his massive shoulders shake with sobbing. I rush to place a comforting arm around him, my heart swelling with pride and joy. “I never dared imagined you could heal this... Thank you, thank you, Kor-Kis.”
“It was my pleasure,” I say, beaming up at him with my eyes glistening, almost overcome with emotion myself. “Your Gods did not forget about you, Crogon. They brought me here for this purpose.”
I will not fail them.
My words heighten Crogon’s tears of joy as he clutches me in a tight embrace. I stand, unafraid of his touch, feeling the love and adoration radiating from him, bolstering my weary body. “I shame myself,” Crogon sniffles a moment later, breaking our embrace to wipe the rivers of weeping from his restored face.
“There is no shame here,” I smile, gesturing to encompass the massive empty hall. Indeed, many Klendathians have spilled tears after my healing touch. Each one I remember fondly, a treasured memory of happiness that I’ll always carry with me. “Go, Crogon, and spread the word to the others who need my help.”
His expression snaps to solemn as he thumps his chest with a hand and bows his head. “At once, Kor-Kis.” He turns to stalk towards the exit, his powerful strides echoing through the ancient wooden surroundings, a stark contrast to the male who entered only moments ago.
As he leaves, my elation wanes, bringing with it yet deeper profound exhaustion, and that annoying headache is back, throbbing dimly at the front of my skull. Wish I could spare the energy to heal myself! My eyes shift to the beckoning pile of comfortable furs I asked Xandor to set up for me, tucked behind the Chieftain’s chair. I’ve been stealing brief sleeps over the past weeks—but my duties must continue.
It’s tempting as I stare at the furs through blurry eyes that struggle to stay open. But I tear my gaze away, opting to rest my weary head on the enormous ancient table instead. Just one more, then I’ll sleep. As I rest my head on my hands, treacherous tiredness threatens to whisk me off to merciful sleep.
Until a rhythmic tapping catches my attention. Someone must be coming. I should straighten and look presentable, but I struggle to stir from my hazy consciousness. My nose wrinkles catching the scent of food, causing my stomach to rumble and gargle with an aching hunger I never knew was there.
This next guy smells delicious!
I jolt upright, more motivated by the delightful smell of food. My eyes, consumed by fatigue, desperately crave rest. “Oh, great and glorious Kor-Kis, can you rid me of this awful stubbed toe?” Xandor jests, his humorous tone and familiar voice snapping me awake with excitement.
“Xandor!” I exclaim, wiping the sleep from my eyes to see my beaming Mortakin-Kai approaching with a wooden plate of streaming goodies that make my mouth water.
“It is I,” Xandor laughs, “Bringer of food. For all your hard work...” His words and smile fade, replaced by a look of concern as he scrutinizes my face. “You look like you’ve been dragged behind a herd of stampeding boracks.”
I emit a weak laugh, too exhausted for more. “I feel like I have, too.”
Xandor sets the steaming plate on the ancient table beside me, then places his massive hand on my forehead. His hand feels cold, but refreshing. “When was the last time you slept?” he inquires, a grimace on his handsome face.
A hard question to answer. The past days and weeks are all a churning whirlwind of countless healings and brief naps. I can’t even recall the last time I left this building or saw natural light. “I don’t know... maybe twenty hours ago.”
Xandor inhales sharply. “Tyrxie...” He lingers on my name, his disapproval clear. We’ve been over this before. My Mortakin-Kai urging me to stop, to rest—but I won’t, I can’t. Driven by a frantic need to heal the Klendathians. I’m the only one in the entire universe they have. The only one who can take their pain away and mend their broken bodies.
So, my sweet Xandor has looked after me as best he can, bringing me food, keeping me company, making the place cozier for me. I yank the hot plate of food towards me, the alluring smells a promise of future delights. A collage of unique items, many of which I’ve never seen before, all neatly cut up by my thoughtful Xandor.
I pick up a cube of sizzling borack meat—at least I assume it is. Popping it into my mouth, I moan in delight, the favors so rich and juicy it almost melts in my mouth. “You were right, these are much nicer than the ones you made on the Mutalisk’s Hammer.”
“Alright, no need to twist the claws.” Xandor holds up a placating hand and laughs. “I’m glad you like it. Try one of these.” He points to a collection of steaming beige balls. “Fried zelatos dumplings, Rock’s favorite.”
Intrigued and starving, I pluck a hefty orb into my mouth. An intense savory taste tingles my tastebuds initially. Under the outer layer lies a sweet, rich favor with a soft molten texture. I groan in pleasure as the treat is one of the most decadent I’ve ever experienced—like two foods in one. Who thought of this culinary masterpiece?
There are other foods, colorful fruits, and vegetables. I waste no time, driven by hunger; my arms become pistons of delicious feeding. “Perhaps the Gods also blessed you with the ability to consume twice your bodyweight?” Xandor quips with a grin. I splutter, almost choking at his jest.
“I finally bought an AHI. That stands for Artificial House Intelligence,” Xandor explains as my eyes flick to his, struggling to swallow mouthfuls of food. “My place has never looked so tidy. I even got the food dispenser replaced. Voiding spawn of the netherworld, that old thing was,” he chuckles.
I raise a skeptical eyebrow as I shovel more yumminess into my mouth. “Don’t look at me like that, Tyrxie.” Xandor grins. “I swear it on my ancestors... You should come visit.”
Such a loving, simple request, yet the words hit me like a gut punch, filling me with sorrow. I was the one who pleaded to see his house before we arrived—and now the thought seems so selfish.
I avert my gaze, not wishing to upset him with more refusals. “Here,” Xandor sighs, placing an oversized canteen on the table. “Some boracks milk to wash that down,” he offers.
My stomach is full to bursting but it’ll have to endure, because I love boracks milk—the creamy filling liquid is so refreshing. With greedy gulps, I chug down mouthfuls; the taste is even better than I remember. “Where do you put it all?” Xandor quips, looking beneath the table as If I’m playing some trick on him.
I wipe my mouth and then pat my bloated belly in satisfaction. “That was yummy, thanks, Xandor.” I smile at him. But I’ve already wasted too much time, and the meal has washed away some of my fatigue. “Can you ask them to send in the next person?”
Xandor doesn’t stand, instead he places a hand on mine. “Listen, you can’t go on like this, my love.” His voice is low and soft.
It’s my turn to sigh in frustration, knowing I’m too tired and too much work needs to be done. “I can and I will!” I snap back with a surprising heat that shocks me. Exhaling deeply, I add. “I’m the only one they have, Xandor. If I stop now, they’ll suffer more and it’ll be my fault.” My lip trembles, recalling the pain I caused Xandor, never wanting to feel that guilt ever again.
“Tyrxie... You’re not causing any pain.” His golden gaze bores into mine, conveying an intense sincerity. “Gods, the reason your light burns so bright is because you do the exact opposite. A pure, beautiful soul that eases suffering and mends shattered warriors... Please let me take you to Earth like I promised I would.”
Earth. The word excites me. My home world I never knew existed until recently, now lies within my reach. But it’ll always be there. It can wait until I finish my work here. “Just let me finish this next group, and then I’ll take a break, I promise,” I offer with a weary smile.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s a crowd of people stretching from that door deep into Draxxi forest!” Xandor states, gesturing to the far end of the great hall. “As far as the eye can see. Every Prospect and maimed warrior from every corner of the globe is heading here to seek your divine blessing. But they managed fine before, and they’ll manage until our glorious return.”
My eyes flick to Xandor’s with doubt, gasping at his words, not understanding since I haven’t left this building in weeks. A strange mixture of sinking defeat and joy battle within me. Joy, so many are coming to be healed. But defeat knowing Xandor is right—I can’t continue like this. I naively thought I was nearing the end, but this is only the beginning.
Xandor smiles warmly. “Keep this up, and you’ll just be a tiny nub of a Tyrxie skeleton.” I chuckle at the silly image. “I’ve already hired a ship to take us to Earth. The ship’s a real pile of space scrap, though. You might have heard of it—Kannus’s Gamble?”
My heart leaps for joy. “No way! Really?” I beam at my smiling Xandor, filled with love and excitement.
“Really,” Xandor confirms with a nod before standing, offering a hand. “They even give us a discount, too. Crew seems a bit suspect though,” he laughs, as I place my hand in his massive one.
I let out a horrendous groan, attempting to stand, my backside and legs stiff as the toughest arcweave. “My ass is sore sitting on this chair for weeks,” I complain as Xandor wraps his enormous hands around my bum.
“Now, it’s my turn to heal you,” Xandor intones, squeezing me tight, kneading my ass with much gusto, like he’s polishing a newly painted hull.
I giggle, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, eager to see Earth and my old crew again. Content that I’ve done all I can for now. “Thanks, Xandor. That’s some, um... intense healing going on there,” I jest, making him laugh heartily. Instead of letting go, he lifts me up, and I squeal in delight as he carries me towards the exit of the chieftain’s hall.
“Wait until you see this,” Xandor says with a sly smile as he kicks open the massive wooden doors. A strong refreshing wind brushes over my skin, carrying a clean scent I didn’t know I missed. My eyes strain to adjust to the bright purple light as a lovely, cool rain pelts down on my face, washing away more fatigue. I still marvel at the precious liquid falling so freely when it was such a luxury onboard the Mutalisk’s Hammer.
A shocking muttering reverberates through the air, sounding like the hushed voices of countless thousands. But that can’t be right. Xandor sets me down and I rub my strained eyes. I turn and gasp at the sea of red faces stretching into the distant forest. What the void is this? I look to Xandor in total disbelief; he gives me a knowing smile before he lifts my hand high into the air.
A deafening cheer booms through Draxru, shaking the very ground and filling me with awe. It’s breath-taking that so many people are here for me. Looking into the Klendathians’ faces, their adoration and love flow from them. It stirs something within, overwhelming me as I feel tears of happiness leaking from my eyes. Never would I have imagined a sight such as this in a million years—a hated, scared alien girl lost in space, now revered, and celebrated.
Xandor taps my shoulder and directs my gaze towards a partially completed gigantic wooden statue carved into a trunk of a tree that reaches to the heavens. Klendathian crafters clamber its length, cutting and shaping with skilled hands. The statue’s intricate details and grand scale render me speechless.
Then, as my eyes travel to study its face, I cover my mouth in disbelief.
It’s me!
It’s a voiding giant statue of me! Overcome with emotion, I can hardly believe this is happening, like a wondrous dream I’m bearing witness to. My heart hammers in my chest, and I can feel Xandor’s pride bursting through our bond. I look at him, my face wet with raw emotion. But he only smiles at me with his golden eyes glowing, the cheering crowd too loud to overcome.
“Kor-Kis!” A chant goes out.
“Kor-Kis!” It continues, picked up by more of the roaring crowd.
“Kor-Kis!” The strange word buzzes through the electrified air.
Xandor pumps our hands high into the air, as I’m frozen, overwhelmed by this impossible spectacle. “Tyrxie, ja jadek Kor-Kis!” His voice booms louder than I’ve ever heard before, shocking to hear his native Klendathian dialect.
The throngs’ cheers of “Kor-Kis!” intensify at Xandor’s words. Dumbfounded, I pull on Xandor’s sleeve, urging him downward. “What does it mean?” I shout into his long ears, straining to be heard, now desperate to learn what Xandor and the others have been calling me.
“Tyrxie, the Green Goddess.” His hot breath brushes against my ear, the sensation and meaning sending tremors and shivers through my body.
My eyes widen in awe, my heart pounding with the enormity of it all. The reverence, the adoration of the crowd, their unwavering belief in me—it’s almost too much to comprehend. I turn back to the statue, seeing it anew. It’s not just a likeness; it’s a testament to the hope and faith these people have placed in me.
Xandor’s hand tightens around mine, grounding me in this moment. “Embrace it. Embrace who you’ve become,” he says, his voice steady and filled with conviction. By the hand, he leads us through the roaring crowd. “Come, my love. It’s time to stretch our wings.”
“Kor-Kis!” The deafening chant continues as we push through the cheerful crowd.
I’ll always be Tyrxie, a girl who survived to find love. But I will return, I will fulfill my destiny.
THE END