Chapter 2
The comm-link engaged with a deep tonal pulse, the Nhaelor’s systems syncing to a frequency only a handful of beings in the galaxy were permitted to use.
A shape formed in the projection—tall, robed in layered black and silver, a ceremonial mask of obsidian metal obscuring his face except for the gleam of golden eyes. Tentacles drifted around him in controlled, regal arcs.
Karian.
Marak of Luxar.
Kyrax did not incline his head.
Nor did Karian.
Between beings like them, deference meant nothing.
Power recognized power.
“Vykan Kyrax Sagarnis,” Karian said, his voice deep beneath the mask. “Your signal reached Luxar with urgency.”
“Marak.” Kyrax’s helm dipped a fraction. “You have seen the data stream.”
Karian’s eyes sharpened. “I did.”
“Cruxar’s remnants,” Karian said at last. “Still acting without purpose.”
“They trespassed on Vyranth,” Kyrax replied. “They took Saelori. They intended to sell them.”
Karian’s tentacles stilled, tension rippling through them. “Then you acted correctly. They were yours to destroy.”
Kyrax’s voice remained level, but the weight beneath it carried through the comm. “And yet they came.”
Karian did not deny it.
“I dealt with Cruxar,” the Marak said. “You know this better than most.”
“I know,” Kyrax said. “But the aftermath was not contained.”
Another silence. This one edged.
Kyrax went on, “My people suffered for your subordinate’s corruption. I demand restitution.”
Karian’s mask tilted slightly. “What is it you seek?”
Kyrax held still, armor gleaming faintly under the chamber lights.
“There is a species,” he said. “Resilient. Rare. Resistant to my venom.”
Karian’s eyes narrowed.
“They survive your breath?” he asked.
Kyrax gave a single, controlled nod.
“And you want one of them,” Karian said quietly.
“A female,” Kyrax answered. “A mate I can claim without killing. A Human.”
Karian’s tone shifted into something sharper. “Earth is under my protection now.”
Kyrax’s eyes narrowed behind his helm. “So I have heard.”
“Not merely under my protection,” Karian said. “It is bound to me. To my mate. What touches that world touches her. I will not violate the sanctity of her people.”
Kyrax’s voice dropped. “This is what I require. No Saelori can tolerate my venom.”
“And no human can be taken,” Karian replied. “Their minds splinter. Their bodies fail. Their world is fragile—its balance must remain untouched.”
Kyrax said nothing.
Karian added, “What you ask is not simple.”
“It is restitution,” Kyrax said. “And it will be made.”
Karian grew stiller, unreadable beneath his mask.
“If I were to agree—which I have not—there must be limits.”
“Name them.”
Karian’s gaze sharpened, golden light burning through the mask.
“Only a human who wishes to leave her world may be claimed,” he said. “I will not harm Earth. I will not risk my mate’s peace. And I will not sanction an unwilling taking.”
Kyrax considered this. The mist outside the Nhaelor pulsed in slow, heavy waves.
“You impose this condition,” Kyrax said.
“I do,” Karian replied. “It stands.”
Kyrax’s armor hummed faintly as he straightened. “A willing human is rare.”
“Then this matter may end quickly,” Karian said. “If no such human exists, your request cannot be fulfilled.”
Kyrax leaned slightly toward the projection, the red slits of his helm darkening. “If she exists, you will find her. And if none exists…”
Karian’s golden eyes met his without wavering. “Then you will accept that the restitution you seek is impossible.”
Kyrax’s voice sank to a metallic growl. “Test that, Marak, if you choose.”
The connection cut.
The projection dissolved.
The mist outside the Nhaelor deepened and rolled over the viewing panels—dense, heavy, reacting to the Vykan’s mood.
Somewhere across the gulf of stars, a human life continued unaware.
A human who, willingly or not, would shape his fate.