Chapter 12 Lia
LIA
Rakkh must sense my fear because his hand tightens on my waist.
“We face it together,” he murmurs.
And then, from the depths of the alien vessel, a single, hollow tone rings out—not a knock,
not a hum or a pulse, but more like a heartbeat answering mine.
The pulse echoes again. Low. Hollow. It sounds too slow for a running machine and too steady for shifting metal to be natural. It’s either a heartbeat or something mimicking one.
Rakkh steps forward, positioning himself between me and the widening corridor. One wing lifts—just enough to brush my shoulder. My skin flushes warm at the contact.
Travnyk moves beside him, blade held at the ready. Tomas lingers behind us, plastered to the wall as if he’s trying to merge with it. The hum vibrates under my boots. I swallow hard.
“It feels… alive,” I whisper.
Rakkh nods once, jaw tight. “It seems to recognize a living presence.”
Travnyk’s eyes glow faintly as he leans in and touches the wall with the back of his hand.
“These veins—they warm when Lia breathes nearby.”
I stiffen. “How do you know it’s because of me?”
“Because they didn’t glow until you moved closer,” he says calmly.
The metal pulses as if agreeing. My stomach twists.
“That’s not comforting,” I say.
“It was not meant to be,” Rakkh growls.
The corridor ahead seems to inhale slowly. The walls expand by a fraction, like lungs filling with air. A whisper slides along the curved metal surface—so faint I almost miss it, but Rakkh doesn’t. He tilts his head, listening, and his pupils narrow to slits.
“What is it?” I whisper.
He hesitates, and that alone terrifies me more than anything so far.
“It speaks,” he murmurs. “Not words. Not thought. Something older still.”
My skin prickles. “Older than what?”
“Older than the war,” Travnyk answers softly. “Older than any of us.”
Across the chamber, Tomas makes a strangled noise.
“Okay, can we leave? I vote we leave. I vote we leave and salt this cursed dune behind us.”
Before I speak, the pulse comes again—stronger. The floor shifts, a subtle tilt downward toward the corridor. Drawing us inward.
“Don’t move,” Rakkh commands, tail snapping once in warning.
I freeze.
The metal veins flare with soft violet light—the same shade that flickered on the creature’s scales. The same shade that burned beneath the dunes. My breath quickens.
“Rakkh…” My voice cracks. “This is the same energy as the guardian.”
“Yes,” he says. “And the guardian is not the last.”
My chest tightens. “You mean the thing that is still out there.”
“Something linked to this.” His gaze slides to me, sharp, intense. “It woke because you touched the surface. The beasts stir because this stirs.”
The accusation isn’t cruel or blaming—it’s something else entirely. Fear, but not fear for himself or fear of what is coming. He fears for me.
“I didn’t mean—” I start.
“I am not angry at you,” he says, cutting me off with a low sound—a protective rumble.
Heat climbs my neck and cheeks. “Then what—?”
“I am angry at the thing that answers you.”
The words steal my breath. A faint scraping echoes from the tunnel. Something brushing metal. Soft. Curious. Close.
Rakkh’s claws extend with a whispering scrape. He steps in front of me, unfurling his wings and blocking my view.
“Behind me,” he murmurs.
I press close to him, heart hammering. I don’t care how it looks. This ship feels like it’s waiting for me—wanting me—and I have no idea why. Travnyk raises his blade. Tomas whimpers again.
Another scrape. Then a faint chittering sound. Not creature. Not machine. Something between.
Rakkh’s tail curls around my ankle—not tightly, just enough to anchor me. The gesture sends a tremor through my entire body.
“Stay,” he rasps.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.
The corridor light pulses—once, twice, faster. And then—something moves inside the passage.
A shadow glides against the wall. Long. Thin. Multi-jointed. Not the guardian. Not a burrower. Something smaller, but I can’t imagine it’s harmless. My heartbeat thunders.
The air grows warmer. The scent sharpens—a metallic tang that burns the back of my throat. Rakkh shifts lower, claws ready, all muscle and focus.
“This is no natural creature. It is made of the same material as the ship,” Travnyk says, inhaling slowly.
“Oh stars,” I whisper.
Rakkh’s voice drops to a lethal growl. “Then it dies here.”
The shadow pauses, listening to me. My pulse stutters painfully.
“It’s tracking sound,” I say.
“Then do not speak,” Rakkh murmurs.
I clamp my mouth shut and press closer to his back, my fingers curling lightly around the cool scales of his arm. He doesn’t flinch. If anything, he leans into my touch.
The shadow moves again. Faster. Closer.
Travnyk’s tusks lift in warning. Tomas holds his breath, face pale. Rakkh lowers his head, eyes dark and burning.
“On my word,” he murmurs—barely a whisper.
I nod against his shoulder. My body shakes, but not just with fear. With the terrifying certainty that whatever lies in that corridor didn’t just wake for anyone. It woke for me.
The pulse comes again—louder now, resonating under my skin like a second heartbeat. My heartbeat—and the ship answers in kind.
Rakkh’s claws tighten. Travnyk raises his blade. Tomas stifles a sob.
The shadow breaks from the dark. And Rakkh roars—
“Now!”
He twists with impossible speed, catching the sentinel midair with a brutal sweep of his forearm. Sparks fly where his claws scrape its surface.
The thing skids across the floor, limbs snapping into a low stance. It doesn’t bleed or pant. Worse, it doesn’t show pain. Its slitted, glowing violet eyes lock onto me. Every hair on my body rises.
“No,” Rakkh growls, stepping directly into its line of sight. His tail curls around my thigh again, anchoring me behind him. “Not her.”
The sentinel tilts its head. A faint hum rises from its body, like a tuning fork pressed to my skull.
It’s scanning me.
“Lia,” Travnyk hisses urgently, “do not let it see your face again!”
But it’s too late. Something inside the sentinel brightens—a pinpoint of violet at its core. Recognition. It knows me.
I stumble backward, pulse slamming painfully, but Rakkh moves with me, always the barrier between us. His breathing is low and furious, the rumble of a male ready to tear worlds apart.
The sentinel lunges.
It moves incredibly fast. Rakkh meets it with a roar that vibrates through my bones. Claws collide with chitinous metal in a burst of sparks.
It tries to get around him—toward me. He blocks it. It leaps for the wall—attempting to flank. He anticipates and slams it down by its hind limbs.
Its limbs twist unnaturally, and it tries to scuttle sideways on its back—no animal should move like this. No machine should either.
“Travnyk! Help him!” I shout.
The Urr’ki warrior charges, blade raised. Tomas wisely stays back, terrified and shaking.
The sentinel reacts too quickly. One limb lashes out, catching Travnyk across the chest. His armor absorbs most of the hit, but he hits the wall hard and groans, sliding down.
“It adapts,” Travnyk gasps. “It learns!”
Rakkh snarls, slamming his foot into the sentinel’s thorax. The violet veins pulse again—faster.
“It is assessing her,” he growls. “It wants to take her.”
Ice grips my spine.
The sentinel jerks under Rakkh’s weight, tries to spring free. Rakkh crushes down with brutal strength—but the thing twists, sending a violet jolt along his leg.
He staggers.
“Rakkh!” I bolt forward before I think, reaching for him.
“No!” he roars—not at me but at the sentinel.
It hears the sound. It recognizes the protectiveness. And it shifts targets.
To me.
It launches.
Rakkh moves with impossible speed—shoving me back, taking the brunt of the sentinel’s strike across his shoulder. His scales spark as the creature’s limbs scrape him. I hit the wall hard, pain flaring in my hip.
“Rakkh!” I scream.
He roars—pure, primal fury—and slashes across the sentinel’s core. His claws sink into the violet-lit veins and tear.
A burst of bioluminescent fluid sprays in a sharp arc. The sentinel spasms. Its limbs twitch frantically. Then—it freezes. The violet glow fades.
Rakkh throws the husk aside, breathing hard, shoulders heaving. The chamber is silent again except for Tomas’s shaking breaths and Travnyk’s low groan.
My legs buckle.
Rakkh is there instantly, catching me before I hit the ground. One arm wraps around my waist, the other slides behind my shoulders, lifting me against him like I weigh nothing.
“Lia,” he rasps, voice trembling despite his strength. “Are you injured? Did it touch you?”
“N-no,” I gasp. “Are you?”
His jaw clenches. His shoulder bleeds where the sentinel struck him, violet-tinged ichor steaming faintly.
“It is nothing,” he says. “You matter more.”
My breath catches. Hard.
His forehead dips toward mine—not touching, but close enough that I feel the warmth of him, the tremble of adrenaline still shaking through his body.
“You do not face these things alone,” he murmurs. “Ever.”
Heat floods my skin, my heart, everything.
“I know,” I whisper. “I… know.”
For a moment, we stay like that—breaths mingling, danger humming in the metal walls around us, the ship pulsing with its quiet, eerie glow.
The sentinel is dead, but the ship is not.
Something deeper in the corridor pulses once—slow and heavy. Awakening.