Chapter 12
Kaede
Forty-seven hours.
Kaede stared at the tactical display, numbers flickering across the holographic surface like stars burning out one by one.
Forty-seven hours until they boarded the Abyss and carried Selena into the heart of the CEG Space Station, where every species in the galaxy would be watching. Waiting. Judging.
Hunting.
“Security analysis at seventy-three percent,” REI reported, her voice threading through his mind with clinical precision. “CEG station protocols have changed since the last Assembly session. Increased checkpoint scans. Biometric verification at all primary access points. They’re paranoid.”
“They should be.” Kaede’s claws tapped against the war room’s obsidian table, the sound rhythmic, controlled. “Two major species are at war, and the Verya are invading the galaxy. Every species with half a brain is fortifying their positions.”
The war room sat deep within the mountain base above the villa, a space Kaede had claimed the moment they’d returned to Destima.
Black stone walls swallowed the glow of holographic projections, making the displays hover in the darkness like fragments of distant galaxies.
From here, he could see everything—every approach, every blind spot, the villa and its backyard spread below, making it easier to protect those he’d sworn to defend.
In one corner of the feed, Meti and her brothers played in the backyard.
The cubs tumbled over each other with the reckless energy of youth, their laughter silent through the display but somehow still palpable.
Eshe watched from a respectful distance, her presence a comfort rather than a restriction, even though the clan was present.
In another feed, V’dim’s tentacles wrapped around Selena as she rested on a lounger near the pool.
Her soft swollen belly caught the afternoon light, and even from here, Kaede could see the exhaustion shadowing her features.
The pregnancy was draining her. Xylo had warned them—had stated that even with her Oetsae she could still experience nausea, tiredness, pains and swift hormone changes—but his warnings didn’t ease the twist in his chest every time he saw how drained she’d become.
The sight should have calmed him.
It didn’t.
“Your cortisol levels are elevated,” REI observed. “You’ve been standing at this console for three hours without rest. Heart rate increased seventeen percent since you began reviewing CEG security protocols.”
“I’ll rest when she’s safe.”
“Define safe. In your current state of hypervigilance, I doubt any condition would satisfy your parameters.”
Kaede’s jaw tightened. REI wasn’t wrong. That made it worse.
“She is safe,” her Oetsae continued. “The villa’s perimeter is secured. The Fab Five are deployed. Eshe is guarding her and the clan. Nothing is amiss planetside. I made sure of that. Z wouldn’t have any complaints.”
The mention of Z sent a ripple of something complicated through Kaede’s chest. Pride in his leader’s thoroughness.
Frustration that the male wasn’t allowing others to share the burden.
The Sovereign wouldn’t let anyone in. Not even Selena, which had caused enough damage to their relationship and with her confidence and self-worth.
Kaede wasn’t surprised that Z had reached for Royak without hesitation, pulling him in at his side like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy.
Those two had always worked side by side, even though their planned positions were now reversed.
And Masmi, too. Not as decoration. Not as a token. As support with weight. With teeth.
It was… change. The kind that didn’t happen in speeches. The kind that happened when a Sovereign acted, tossing old traditions away for what mattered: survival and justice.
Females had always carried the empire on their backs.
Supply lines. Logistics. Triage. Quiet sacrifices no one bothered to sing about.
But this was different. This was Z saying aloud what the old guard hated: they fight too.
Not just to win a war—but to mend the generational fracture that had taught half their people to shrink themselves down.
Kaede could respect that.
He could also respect the strategy.
Guarding the Lunkai Sol system wasn’t glamour. It was necessity. It was the spine of everything they couldn’t afford to lose: Liskta, the origin planet. Lunkai, the new Aldawi capital. And Destima—its orbiting moon, sanctuary built around the Beacon and her refugees.
If Destima fell, the war wouldn’t matter. Not really.
Yet behind it all, guilt twisted in Kaede’s gut—sharp and mean. How dare he feel anything about this, feel frustration clawing at him, when Z was already racing toward the front to keep the empire from collapsing.
He belonged at Selena’s side. That was his assignment. His purpose. His penance and his privilege all at once: keep her safe, keep the cubs safe, make sure no one got close enough to breathe on them—much less touch.
No one reached his star.
Not while he still had blood in his veins.
“Eshe is competent.” Kaede acknowledged it without turning from the display as tension coiled in his muscles like a predator scenting blood.
“But she’s limited. Her shadow abilities are defensive at best—positioning, extraction, tactical withdrawal.
When we reach the CEG, we won’t have the villa’s security systems. We won’t have the Fab Five. We’ll have whatever we bring with us.”
And that was the problem.
Kaede pulled up another display, this one showing the proposed team composition for the CEG mission. Him. Ryzen. Zyxel. Eshe. Four individuals responsible for protecting the most important person in the galaxy while she stood before beings who might want her dead.
Three of them had abilities that complemented each other. Mental coordination. Ranged precision. Close-quarters dominance.
One did not.
His gaze lingered on Zyxel’s file, the image showing the serpent’s crimson-scaled Ezzaska form.
A medic’s profile. Healing certifications.
Notes about his species’ unique genetic adaptation capabilities—the same capabilities that ran through Selena’s blood, making her something the galaxy had never seen before.
Nothing about combat readiness outside playful skirmishes at the asteroid base.
Nothing about working as part of a unit.
And worst of all, that form would draw attention the moment they set foot on the CEG station.
His Ezzaska form didn’t exist within this galaxy and the Rkekh were supposed to be extinct, hunted to near-annihilation by the Yarrkins.
The Verya had continued that work in their own galaxy.
If anyone recognized what Zyxel truly was—if they connected his genetics to Selena’s unique biology—
The implications cascaded through Kaede’s tactical mind like falling petals.
“REI, send a summons to Zyxel. My location. Immediately.”
“Transmitting. Should I include context for the request?”
“No.”
“Understood. He’ll be curious. Possibly defensive. Your history with the serpent has been... contentious.”
That was one word for it.
Kaede’s fingers brushed the hilt of his psydagger, the weapon’s familiar weight grounding him.
He remembered the moonlit confrontation in the garden, blade pressed to Zyxel’s throat.
The bitter words exchanged over Selena’s file.
The resentment that had simmered between them since the serpent first slithered into their lives with his secrets and his claims of fated connection.
He’d threatened to cut out Zyxel’s tongue once. The memory brought no satisfaction.
“I don’t have time to repeat history.” Kaede turned from the console, rolling his shoulders to release some of the tension that had settled there like armor. His living suit rippled in response, the gel-like material adjusting to his movement. “I have time for solutions.”
The war room doors slid open.
Zyxel entered in his natural form.
Not the Ezzaska disguise he wore—the comfortable skin he’d inhabited for years—but the massive Rkekh body he’d revealed to Selena during the Harvest Festival.
Obsidian-black scales gleamed with iridescent crimson streaks layered tight over a lean, brutal frame, each edge catching the light like a honed seam.
His neck was ringed in stacked segments that flexed when he moved, and blade-like ridges flared along his forearms before tapering back into smooth scutes.
A long tail dragged behind him in a controlled arc, its underside studded with subtle spines; at the tip, fiber-optic strands gave off a faint ember glow in the dim room.
He was larger in this form. More imposing. Yet the same upright, almost scholarly posture sat on top of something made for killing—beneath that civilized exterior coiled enough muscle to crush bone.
Chartreuse eyes locked on Kaede, bright and clinical, that familiar, measuring focus scraping at his nerves like it always did.
But today, irritation was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
A crimson mental thread reached out and Kaede instantly grabbed it, no use wasting time.
“You summoned me.” Zyxel’s mental voice brushed against Kaede’s shields, controlled and cautious—like a healer approaching a wounded predator. “Is something wrong with Selena?”
“If something were wrong with Selena, you would have felt it through your bond.” Kaede gestured sharply toward the tactical displays. “And I wouldn’t be this… relaxed.”
Zyxel shifted, and the room recalculated around him. Obsidian plates slid with a soft scrape, his mass claiming air in a way that made the space feel suddenly too small. The scent rolled in after—mineral heat and spices—settling heavy at the back of Kaede’s throat.
He tipped his head. The ridges and crown spines along his skull caught the holographic spill, throwing hard highlights over his plated armor.
“Then why am I here?”