Chapter 6 NADINE #2
The stars drifted slowly behind him, reflected faintly in the glass.
I was keenly aware of how alone we were, even on this massive ship that easily housed ten thousand people.
Here we were, just him and me, awake while the rest of the crew mostly slept, standing on opposite sides of something neither of us fully understood.
I pressed my fingers together to steady myself.
"This ship has very… good insulation," I managed finally. "Hard to escape your thoughts."
His mouth curved slightly. "Yes, it does."
He went still for a moment, his eyes unfocused, his jaw tightening as if he were listening to something I couldn't hear. Then he shook his head once, sharp and dismissive.
"Are you okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"Just Nythor," he replied. "Intruding again."
I frowned. "What?"
"Nythor," he repeated, tapping two fingers lightly against his temple. "He keeps reaching out to me."
My stomach dropped.
"In your… head?" I asked carefully.
His gaze flicked back to me, assessing. "Where else?"
Oh.
Oh no.
The realization hit me with a clarity that had nothing to do with physics.
He was talking about telepathy. He had implied it earlier, but there had been too much else going on for me to realize it.
Now, it hit me full force. He thought this Nythor was talking to him telepathically.
That was the one thing I hadn't accounted for.
Wormholes, alien empires, abyss-adjacent phenomena, I could stretch my mind around all of that. But this?
This was different. Oh my god. He's crazy. Batshit crazy.
No wonder he thought he was a god.
"He's talking to you right now?" I asked, forcing my voice to remain even.
"Yes."
I stared at him. He smirked, slow and knowing. "You don't believe me."
I took a step back before I realized I was doing it. The observation bay suddenly felt much larger and much emptier. No guards. No technicians. Just me and a massive, possibly delusional Arkhevari who claimed ancient beings spoke directly into his mind.
Keep him entertained, I told myself. De-escalate. Pacify. Pretend.
"What's he saying?" I asked.
His grin widened, unmistakably amused, like he could read my mind. Don't be ridiculous, Nadine. Still, for a terrifying second, I wondered if he actually could read my thoughts.
"He's… scattered," Dravok said. "Fragments. Warnings layered over memory. Something about a wound remembering. About a hunger that learned patience."
I swallowed.
"That doesn't help," I said lightly. "Could you be more specific?"
He studied me, then continued, "He speaks of the Harrowed One. Of echoes gathering until they learned to want."
My brain latched onto the pattern instantly.
"Oh," I said before I could stop myself. "So that's what he's calling it."
He stiffened. I winced internally.
"Calling what?" he asked.
"The entity," I said, gesturing vaguely toward the stars beyond the viewport. "The organizing principle behind the Abyssal behavior. If there is one. Hypothetically."
He stared at me as if I'd just pulled a weapon out of thin air.
"You understand this?" he looked incredulous, like I hadn't proven this earlier.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes—now is not the time, Nadine. "I understand patterns. Names are just compression algorithms with delusions of grandeur."
That earned me a sharp, startled laugh.
"You really do translate his nonsense," he sounded more like he was talking to himself.
Still, I gave a small, careful shrug. "I'm… trying."
And there it was, the moment where I should have backed away, where self-preservation should have overridden curiosity. Instead, I heard myself add, "He's not talking to you because you're special. He's talking to you because you're… close. Whatever that means."
The amusement drained from his expression. "You're certain of that?"
"No," I admitted. "But it fits the data better than destiny."
He watched me for a long moment; something unreadable flickered through the gold-threaded darkness around him.
Then, quietly, "You're not pretending."
I forced a smile. "I don't pretend well."
Which was true. The silence stretched again, thicker now, charged with things neither of us was ready to name.
Somewhere deep in my chest, my heart finally slowed, but my mind raced faster than ever.
Crazy or not… dangerous or not… whatever Dravok was experiencing, it wasn't random.
That terrified me far more than the idea of voices in the dark.
Something in his expression changed—resolved.
I saw the determination settle behind his eyes like a decision made against his own wishes. "You have to come with me." He sounded more resigned than inviting.
I blinked. "What?"
He frowned, clearly displeased with the conclusion even as he accepted it. "You're not safe here. Not if you continue pulling meaning out of Nythor's fragments."
"No," I said immediately. "No. I'm here to study the black hole."
"The Dark Abyss," he corrected automatically.
"The black hole," I shot back. "And I'm not leaving."
Even as the words left my mouth, the temptation already settled deep inside my soul, and unfortunately, my mind was on board, because he was an Arkhevari. According to him, he'd spent years in the Black Abyss. I could probably learn more from him in days than I could in months aboard this ship.
As if my agreement was a foregone conclusion, he nodded and, after studying me for a long moment, inclined his head slightly. "I'll speak to the emperor."
That did not help. Before I could argue further, he moved.
Not abruptly. Not threateningly. If anything, it looked like reluctance.
His hand lifted, hesitated, then brushed my cheek.
Just the lightest caress. Everything stopped.
The world narrowed to the point of contact, to the warmth of his skin, to the way the air seemed to hum where he touched me.
Electricity raced through me so fast it stole my breath, curling low and sharp and devastating, lighting nerves I didn't know I had.
I had experienced pleasure before. Alone.
With others. Human pleasure. I wasn't a biologist, but I understood the mechanics of orgasms. They were neurochemical cascades, predictable and measurable.
Stimulus-triggered nerve responses —responses that in turn triggered neurotransmitter release—dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins—muscles contracted in familiar patterns; this was so that the nervous system could resolve tension through repetition and release.
A feedback loop. Powerful, yes. Intimate, yes. But contained. Finite.
I knew how they worked. This was not that.
This was nothing like that. This was… a promise.
Of something vast. Of connection without edges.
Of gravity finally giving in and letting itself fall.
My knees nearly buckled. He leaned in just enough that I could feel his breath, hear the restraint in it, and when he spoke, his voice was so soft it felt like it bypassed my ears entirely. "Aelyth."
The word slid into me like a key turning in a lock I hadn't known existed.
My translator chip remained silent. Useless.
Of course it was. Of course, everything short-circuited at once—technology, logic, body, mind.
Wouldn't that just figure. And still… deep down, beneath the equations and the reflexive denial, a quieter part of me stirred.
The part that didn't argue or analyze. The part I pretended didn't exist. It recognized the word.
Not as language, not as sound, but as resonance.
As something that slid past translation and settled directly into me, humming low and steady, like a note struck long ago that my body had been waiting to hear again.
I didn't understand it. But I felt it.
His hand fell away as if it cost him immensely to pull back.
"It won't be easy," he said quietly, "staying away from you. But I'll need you with me."
My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it in my throat.
"This was meant to be," he added.
The words finally penetrated the haze. Meant. To. Be.
Shock cut through the lingering electricity like ice water.
"What?" I whispered. Then louder, finding my footing again, rage and fear rushing in to save me from whatever that had been. "No. No fucking way."
His brows drew together. "Nadine—"
"You're insane," I snapped. "You hear voices. You think you're a god. And you don't get to decide where I go or when or with whom."
I stepped back, then turned and ran without looking back. I didn't trust myself to. Behind me, his voice followed, not raised, not angry, just certain.
"You can run from me," he called. "But you can't run from destiny."
The corridor swallowed me whole, my pulse roared in my ears, and my skin still burned where he'd touched me.
Destiny.
God.
Aelyth.
I ran faster.
Because whatever that was—
Whatever he was—
It was real.
And that terrified me more than the Dark Abyss ever could.