Chapter 25
twenty-five
. . .
“Great job, team,” Ciara cheers over the headsets.
We’ve successfully navigated seven planets in record time, all before our scheduled dinner break.
Before we can head back to campus, we have five more destinations: Cresnigan in the Ateria Kingdom, Cidal in my kingdom, Ista in the Oris Kingdom, Naelik in Kadora, and finally, Saedn in Okenen. “We’re so winning this,” she adds.
“Hell yes,” Tate responds as he pulls up the holographic display, mapping our course to Cresnigan. “Yo, Rae, the weather is shit on this next one. I kinda want to live, so maybe, like, I don’t know, don’t kill us.”
“Don’t be such a baby, Tate,” I retort, unable to suppress a grin. “Is that what’s beneath that cocky exterior of yours? A little fear of dying? Hate to break it to you,” I click my tongue and grin, “but we’re already dying. Every minute of every day.”
Ciara bursts into laughter, and I can’t help but join in; even Trysten coughs to hide a chuckle.
Tate shoots me a side glance, rolling his eyes at my morbid humor.
“Why do you have to be so dark? That’s just wrong.
” He shakes his head. “I’m young, hot, and so not ready to die.
Just a few more years, please, Rae,” he pleads dramatically, his black hair falling over his forehead before brushing it aside.
“I have big plans for when I’m Bonded,” he adds, waggling his eyebrows and eliciting more laughter from the team.
“Yeah, okay. I’ve got your back, Tate. Nobody’s dying today.” I focus on the potential collision course with a comet.
“I think Lover Prince would be quite sad about your death, Raea,” Ciara hums through the headset. Trysten just chuckles beside me while heat rises on my cheeks. I ignore her.
When our transport arrives, Cresnigan’s atmosphere is all white, covered entirely in a wicked-looking storm that swirls with intensity.
Ciara is hovering over her screen, still trying to contact the tower, when another transport bursts through the storm system and out into space. If they can make it, so can we.
Trysten is busy instructing Tate to report the wind speed before the atmospheric temperature fluctuations, as I hear the all-clear through the headset, finally receiving clearance to make a landing.
Ciara cackles when Tate mutters something about superiority.
Quiet falls over us as I take a deep breath and lower us down, my hands steady on the controls.
“Just like before. Nice and slow. It’s easy,” I mutter to myself.
“The transports are designed for extremes. The alloy protects us from the burn of reentry, and in case of extreme temperatures, we’re fine.
We will be alright.” I trust the safety of this mission and of our transport, but deep within, there’s an unsettling stirring, some instinctive warning telling me there’s danger ahead.
“Quit muttering and focus, Raea,” Trysten growls from his position beside me, his voice tense and clipped. His body becomes rigid as his hands hover over the secondary controls, ready to take over if needed.
“Not helping,” I snap back. As soon as we break free of the atmosphere, violent gusts of wind hurl us off course.
“Shit.” My heart races as I engage the thrusters, correcting our trajectory with urgency.
I squint through the blizzard outside, scanning for the launch pad, now a mere outline in the raging storm.
Visibility is near non-existent; the conditions are so severe that it feels like the planet has been swallowed up.
It should be midday here, but it feels like night outside.
The green landing box flickers on my display, bouncing erratically as I struggle to align it with the launch pad below.
Every gust of wind throws our transport, making it a challenge to maintain stability.
My heart pounds in my chest, thumping furiously and drowning out everything.
It’s fine, though; I focus solely on the steady rhythm of my breath.
I focus on the black launch pad, praying to the gods that we land safely on it.
It’d be nice if they could at least turn on the lights for the pad.
I remind myself to breathe, inhaling slowly through my nose and letting my lungs fully expand before releasing the tension, which eases the knot in my stomach.
Each gust of wind feels like it’s trying to force us further down the mountain.
Thankfully, our transport thrusters are powerful.
I can do this. It’s why I’m here, after all.
With another breath, I silence my mind, focusing solely on the black pad as I align our transport above it.
Relief washes over me as the transport touches down, and I become all too aware of my vice-like grip on the steering stick. With a loud thunk, the magnetic locks engage, latching us in place, and a collective sigh resounds through the cabin.
The howling wind outside pounds against the side of our transport, causing it to creak and lean.
“I think I just had ten years shaved off my life,” Ciara whispers.
“I’m okay with never coming back here. Let’s get our token and get the hell out of here,” Tate says.
“We go together on this one,” Trysten orders. “Walk as one unit.”
We all slip on our winter coats and snow boots before opening the transport ramp. With the live feed running, we pull up our hoods, activate our energy shields, and brace against the wind. Trysten follows closely behind me.
Outside on the pad, the wind gusts make it almost impossible to stay upright. We huddle together, fighting against the wind as we make our way to the control room in a tight formation. It’s so cold that I can feel my teeth chattering and my whole body shaking despite our flight uniforms.
Our steps are slow, and when one of us wobbles, we hold on to each other for support. When we reach the metal door, it swishes open, granting us access to the dark room.
“What the—” Tate mutters, his voice echoing off the cold walls as we survey our surroundings.
A suffocating sense of wrongness hangs in the air.
The long, narrow hall is cloaked in an unyielding darkness, a chill rattling my bones that has nothing to do with the temperature here.
I glance toward the adjoining rooms, finding them empty, their doors ominously ajar as if everyone had left in a hurry.
As we make our way to the control room, we find that it, too, is empty. The air inside the room is frigid, enough to have a bite even through our heavy winter gear. Outside the building, the wind continues to howl like a restless spirit, sending goosebumps racing across my skin.
“Well, this is new,” Trysten states, pulling out his Hallo. I follow suit, gripping the familiar sleek frame. Behind us, Tate and Ciara press together, their backs flush and expressions full of anxiety.
Something about this feels wrong, making my stomach swirl with unease.
I approach the control panel, my breath catching in my throat when I see everything shut down.
A fresh wave of panic courses through me as I look out over the launch pad.
There should always be at least two personnel stationed here for emergency landings.
The stillness around us feels unnatural.
“Are we at the wrong one?” Ciara whispers, her voice trembling, teeth chattering, probably more from fear than the cold.
“No,” Trysten and I reply in unison, our voices hushed. I can feel the weight of the darkness pressing in around us.
“Let’s go,” Trysten insists, an urgency creeping into his tone. “Something is off, and I’d rather not stick around to find out what. We’ll call the school as soon as we’re free.”
We exchange nervous glances, each of us agreeing with a slight nod. Our footsteps become frantic as we retrace our steps back toward the exit.
Then, just as we approach the door, a whisper slices through the silence, sending chills crawling across my skin—“Soraea.” My heart races, and fear grips me as I spin around, searching the eerie shadows for the source. But there’s nothing there.
Trysten pushes me forward, urging me out the door. As we burst into the open, the merciless wind and cold are overshadowed by an overwhelming instinct to flee and get off this planet as quickly as possible. Without thought, we sprint across the blanket of snow, no longer huddling together.
Ciara stumbles, but Trysten is already there, reaching back to grasp her arm and pulling her along as we race toward the ramp already lowering at our approach. Once inside, I don’t even bother to shed my coat or gear. All I want is to escape this nightmare of a planet.
“Get us out of here, Raea,” Trysten commands.
I nod and hurriedly activate the emergency launch sequence.
The ship hums to life around us as I brace for the violent jolt of the thrusters engaging.
With a shuddering roar, we ascend, our backs pressed into our seats, the force holding our breaths captive until we break free from the grip of Cresnigan’s gravity. In under two minutes, we’re free.
Once clear, I stand and peel off my heavy coat and boots along with the others. Adrenaline courses through us all, leaving us all trembling.
“Ciara, you need to warn the other transports. We can’t let anyone else risk landing.
Send out a message as soon as possible. Trysten, can you contact the school and notify them of the situation?
And Tate, find us a clear path to Cidal.
We still have a few planets to go before we’re in the clear,” I instruct, my voice steady despite the unease running rampant within me.
As I take a moment to collect my thoughts, my mind races, replaying the events that just transpired.
We had received clearance to land; I remember that clearly.
There was a voice, authoritative and unmistakable, granting us permission.
Then, there was that other transport—its insignia flashing on my screen, unmistakably linked to the academy.