Chapter 16
Enslak
My mind was clearing.
Not like flipping a switch. More like fog lifting off the river at dawn. Slow. Uneven. Some mornings I'd wake up and the memories would be right there, lined up and ready. Other times they'd scatter like startled birds the second I reached for them.
But it was getting better. Every day, a little better.
I could think something—I need to check the traps—and actually say it out loud without my tongue tripping over itself. Without the words dissolving between my brain and my mouth like they'd been doing for... God, how long? A century? Longer?
It felt like being born. Like waking up from a nightmare I couldn't quite remember but could still feel pressing against the edges of my consciousness.
And Niki.
Gods, Niki.
I craved her with an intensity that would've embarrassed me before—before the torture, before they broke me down and rebuilt me into something monstrous. Now? No shame. Just need. Just this overwhelming hunger that built in my chest every time I looked at her.
We had sex at least once a day. Sometimes more. Mornings, when we woke up tangled together and I could feel her warmth against me. Afternoons by the river when the light caught her hair just right. Nights under the stars when the air cooled and she'd press closer for warmth.
Sometimes slow. Sometimes desperate. Sometimes I'd be so careful with her I'd shake from the effort of holding back. Other times she'd demand more—harder, faster, don't you dare stop—and I'd give her everything.
Every single time felt like a revelation.
When I was inside her, something clicked. Like puzzle pieces finally finding their proper places. The fog in my head would clear completely. That constant low-level anxiety—the humming tension that never quite left my body—would go quiet.
I felt whole.
Not just the physical pleasure, though that was... intense. Overwhelming. The heat of her body. The sounds she made. The way her fingers dug into my shoulders when she came. The way she'd look at me after, eyes soft and satisfied, like I'd given her something precious.
But it was more than that.
When I was buried inside her, our hearts beating in that strange, synchronized rhythm, our breaths mingling, I felt like me. The person I used to be. Strong. Capable. Not the broken thing they'd made me. Not the damaged warrior who couldn't string two words together.
Just... Enslak.
Whole and complete.
We were sitting by the river at our usual spot, upstream from where that creature had attacked. Niki was washing tubers she'd found—some kind of root vegetable that tasted vaguely like something called turnips, she said. I was supposed to be cleaning the fowl I'd caught that morning.
I wasn't working.
I was watching her.
I did that a lot now. Watched her. Studied the way she moved, the expressions that crossed her face, the way the afternoon light caught in her hair. Everything about her fascinated me. Everything about her felt... necessary. Like air. Like water.
Like I couldn't function properly if she wasn't nearby.
"We should probably talk about going back."
The words came out of nowhere. She didn't even look up from her work, just kept scrubbing the tubers in the cool river water.
"To the Bardaga," she continued. "To your family."
The words hit me like a splash of ice water.
Back. To the Bardaga. To my family.
My hands stilled on the fowl. Blood dripped from my claws onto the smooth river stones.
I knew we'd have to eventually. We couldn't stay here forever, hidden away on this beautiful, dangerous planet. Niki had told me Binwee gave us thirty days. We were close to that now. Maybe past it. She'd probably already told them where we were.
They could arrive any day.
But the thought of leaving—of going back to that ship, to all those people, to a life I couldn't fully remember—made something in my chest tighten. Made it hard to breathe.
"I'm not ready."
The words came out rougher than I'd intended. Almost a growl.
"I know I should be. I know they're worried. But I'm not... I can't..."
I trailed off, frustrated. The words were there, somewhere in my head, but I couldn't quite grab them.
Niki set down the tuber she'd been washing and moved closer, settling beside me on the smooth river stones. Her shoulder brushed mine. Her hand found mine, fingers threading through with easy familiarity.
"It's okay," she said softly. "You don't have to be ready yet."
"My mind is still..." I gestured vaguely at my head, leaving bloody fingerprints in the air.
"Broken. There are gaps. Things I should remember but can't. Things that feel like they're right there—" I reached out with my free hand, grasping at nothing.
"Just out of reach. But when I try to grab them, they slip away. "
"I know." Her thumb traced circles against my palm, soothing and grounding. "But you're getting better every day. You're speaking normally now. You're remembering more and more."
"But not everything." Frustration bled into my voice, making it sharp. "Not enough. What if I go back and they expect me to be... to be who I was before? What if I can't be that person anymore?"
Something fierce flashed in Niki's eyes.
"Enslak, you were tortured and experimented on for close to a century." Her voice was low and intense. "Anyone who expects you to be exactly who you were is an idiot."
The bluntness startled me into blinking.
"You survived something that would have destroyed most people," she continued, her voice gaining strength and conviction. "You endured things I can't even imagine. And you're still here. Still fighting. Still you, even if you're different now."
"But what if different isn't—"
"Different is fine." She interrupted, squeezing my hand. "Different is good. Who you are now? This person sitting here with me, remembering how to be gentle, figuring out how to live after everything they did to you?" Her voice softened. "This person is great, Enslak. You're great."
I stared at her, something loosening in my chest—something that had been wound so tight for so long I'd forgotten it was even there.
"You don't have to be who you were a hundred years ago," she insisted, frowning slightly.
"That person went through unimaginable trauma.
Of course you've changed. Of course there are gaps and struggles.
But the person you are now—the one I've gotten to know these past weeks—he's strong and kind and trying so damn hard.
And I..." She paused, her cheeks coloring slightly. "I really like who you are now."
The tightness in my throat made it hard to speak. "You mean that."
It wasn't a question. But she answered anyway.
"Every word." She brought my hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles.
"So stop worrying about meeting some impossible standard.
Your family will understand. And if they don't, they'll learn to.
Because this version of you? The one sitting here with me right now? He's more than enough."
I wanted to believe her. Wanted it so badly it hurt.
Niki went quiet. Her thumb kept tracing those circles on the back of my hand. When she spoke again, her tone had shifted—careful, like she was approaching something fragile.
"George had a theory. About your mind."
I looked at her. Waiting.
"He thinks you built the walls yourself," she said.
"The mental blocks. He thinks you constructed them as protection—a way to survive the torture, the experimentation, the constant trauma.
Your mind couldn't handle what was being done to you, so it retreated.
Built barriers to keep the worst of it locked away. "
The words settled over me.
Built the walls myself.
As protection.
And suddenly—with a clarity that was almost painful—I knew she was right.
I could feel them. Those walls. Those barriers. Layers of protection I'd wrapped around the core of who I was, keeping the memories at bay. Keeping the pain locked down. Keeping myself safe in the only way I could.
The Ulkommenian had broken my body. Augmented it. Turned it into something monstrous. But they hadn't broken my mind. Not completely.
I'd hidden it from them. Buried it so deep that even I couldn't fully access it.
"Yes," I said, the word barely a whisper. "That's... yes. That feels true."
Her eyes met mine. I saw everything in them—the hope, the fear, the absolute certainty that I was worth saving.
My heart did that strange thing again—shifting its rhythm to beat in perfect sync with hers.
Something about it felt significant. Something to do with my kind. With Vaktaire biology or culture or... something. The knowledge was there, buried behind what remained of those walls, but I couldn't quite reach it.
All I knew was that when she was near, I felt complete. When she was away—even for a short time—I felt anxious. Unmoored. Like part of me was missing.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I wanted her around. Always. That I would protect her with my life. That nothing—nothing—was more important than keeping her safe.
"I want to stay here," I said. "With you. Just... a little longer. Is that selfish?"
"No." She squeezed my hand. "It's not selfish."
We sat in silence for a while. The sound of the river filled the space between us—water rushing over stones, birds calling in the canopy above, the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
"I remember some things," I said quietly. "About what happened. About how I ended up... like this."
Niki went still beside me. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready."
"I want to."
And I did. I needed her to know. Needed someone to witness what had been done to me. To acknowledge it. To help me carry the weight of it.
I took a breath and let the memories surface.