Chapter 32
Time passed differently after the attunement.
She knew—because Raeska had explained it gently—that two full months had passed in Earth terms. Here, in Kyrax’s bastion, it had moved in a slow, liquid way, as though the planet itself wanted her to settle before she noticed the days collecting in her hands.
The mornings were cool and soft with mist. The afternoons were humid and lush, humming with distant life.
Nights carried a fragrance she couldn’t name—something green, sweet, and almost nostalgic despite belonging to another world entirely.
In that span of days, she changed more than she had in years.
The Saelori language came naturally to her now.
After the bond, syntax and cadence had slipped into her mind like a memory she’d always possessed.
Customs followed. Rituals. The meaning behind their gestures.
Even the unspoken rules that flowed beneath their society—respect, reciprocity, interdependence layered beneath a veneer of serenity.
And she learned about Kyrax.
His place among the Vykan.
His dominion over the Inner Veil.
His reputation for ruthlessness and precision—a legend both feared and admired throughout the galaxies.
More surprising were the politics: even among his own kind, he was something of an outsider.
An unpredictable force, the one who diverged from ancient patterns, the one who pushed boundaries they balanced carefully upon.
And now, after the attack on his bastion, the others kept their distance.
They had accepted the bond, but wariness clung to them.
No one had tested Kyrax’s temper since Isshyr’s attempted trespass.
Kyrax, for his part, guarded his territory—and her—more fiercely than ever.
Yet privately, with her, he was… astonishingly accommodating.
That was how she found herself aboard his sleek transport vessel, bound for Earth. He’d given her the choice without hesitation.
Gather what you wish. Bring what you want. Anything you need—on Earth, across the galaxy—I will acquire for you.
She still didn’t know what to do with the gentleness hidden underneath all that lethal power.
They traveled in silence as the ship cut through layers of space, then slowed as Earth drew near—a small blue sphere turning slowly beneath the shroud of night. A second, smaller craft detached from the main vessel: a stealth skimmer shaped like a dark crescent, nearly invisible to human eyes.
Only she, Kyrax, and a silent Saelori pilot boarded. The pilot’s presence blurred into the background, trained to stillness.
The descent was smooth. The ship dissolved into the night sky over California, slipping through cloud cover like a shadow. Somewhere in the darkness below lay the world she had lived in, the life she once knew.
Kyrax stood beside her, fully armored, fully masked, his presence a steady pulse of strength she could feel through the bond.
His mask kept his venom contained, but she imagined she caught it anyway—the faintest trace beneath the metal, a subtle warmth that touched only her. The bond recognized him, welcomed him.
The craft skimmed low over suburban streets, lights flickering beneath them. At last, the pilot directed the vessel toward a wooded park near her old apartment complex. The skimmer landed without noise, folding into the shadows as if it were woven from them.
Morgan stepped out first.
And Earth… felt small.
After the Vykan world, everything felt like it was wrapped in cotton—familiar, yes, but diminished.
Kyrax noticed the shift in her breathing. His hand hovered near her back—not touching, but close enough to anchor. Always aware. Always guarding.
They crossed the quiet street, entering the complex side entrance. Kyrax paused only once, scanning the electronic security panel. With a low, amused rumble, he pressed two fingers against the metal.
The entire system died.
“Your world’s defenses are fragile,” he murmured.
“Please don’t tell my father that,” she muttered.
“You worry he will use it.”
“I worry he’ll brag.”
He huffed softly, the Vykan equivalent of a laugh.
They climbed the stairs. Each level felt more surreal than the last—carpeted corridors, fluorescent lights, faint music drifting from someone’s apartment. Ordinary life continued, unaware that a towering, venomous alien warlord walked through their building, armored in shadow.
And then they reached her door.
She paused, her pulse quickening.
This was it.
Home.
Her old home.
She tried the handle, but it was locked.
Of course it was.
Kyrax stepped forward before she could stop him. He grasped the handle in one metal gauntlet, squeezed, and the mechanism shattered like brittle clay. The door drifted open an inch.
“Morgan,” he warned softly, “I sense—”
She stiffened.
The apartment was lit with late-night activity, the glow of a TV screen bouncing colors off the hallway walls.
And then, she heard the voices.
Soft ones. Muted laughter. A bit intoxicated, maybe. A man and a woman.
She pushed the door open just enough to see inside.
It wasn’t her home anymore.
The walls were painted a different color. Her furniture was gone. A different couch. A different framed print on the wall. Shoes that weren’t hers were near the mat. She glimpsed a mug on the counter, a jacket she didn’t recognize.
Her entire life had been erased in under two months.
Her father, she thought bitterly, would have signed the lease the moment she missed one call.
Her chest tightened with anger, a low, simmering resentment that burned hotter with each second she stood there.
She didn’t belong here anymore.
And Earth… had already agreed.
“Who’s there?” a voice called from inside.
Morgan snapped her head toward Kyrax. “We need to leave. Now,” she whispered in Saelori.
He responded instantly.
He swept her into his arms, shielded her body against his armor, and launched himself back through the corridor. They cleared the balcony in one impossible leap. He hit the ground in silence, his movements fluid as a shadow slipping between worlds.
The surveillance systems were still dead. No alarms sounded.
No one saw them.
Minutes later, they were back aboard the skimmer, the park already vanishing behind them.
She sat in her seat, pulse still racing, staring down at her hands.
That wasn’t home anymore.
And the place that felt like home—the only place that made sense—was waiting for her across the stars.