Chapter 19 Venom
Venom
The moment I pressed the final command, the interface went dark.
No confirmation. No echo. Just the faint hum of buried circuitry and the low pulse of power fading into the stone.
I waited. One breath. Then another.
Nothing.
“Did it work?” Clare asked behind me.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “If they received it, they’ll come. If not…”
I didn’t finish the sentence.
Before the silence could stretch further, a familiar chirping sound echoed from the tunnel. I turned just as a cluster of chii emerged, running on all fours, their tails erect. At the front was Ba’quoo, standing out with his silver feathers among his golden and bronze companions.
He scrambled up a crate and fixed me with all three eyes. His presence pressed against my mind a moment before his voice did.
More movement. Many beasts. Bigger than any we have seen here before. Wings. Fire. The sky trembles.
“Can you show me?” I asked sharply.
I have not seen them myself. But this is what Cla’quoo witnessed.
The image he sent was blurry around the edges and somewhat faded, but it was clear enough for me to recognise the monster.
“Fuck,” I exclaimed before I could stop myself. “That’s Tyvaron!”
“What’s that?” Clare asked, her voice tight. “It looks to me like a dragon. I mean, an alien dragon, but somewhat similar.”
I nodded once, eyes fixed on the hazy image still flickering in my mind.
“I have read about dragons from Peritan mythology. The Tyvarin were engineered during the Skarn Rebellions on a planet far away from here – biomechanical sky-beasts, grown in labs and hardwired with tactical systems. They weren’t just weapons.
They could think. Learn. Adapt. Cyborgs with wings and the ability to breathe fire. ”
I drew in a breath. “The one Ba’quoo showed us isn’t just any Tyvarin. That’s Tyvaron.”
“Like… a name?”
“A designation. The first and only of its class. A prototype designed for high-altitude domination and autonomous combat decisions. Its creators gave it partial sentience. Enough to assess threats, react, even disobey if survival logic dictated.”
Her brows furrowed. “You’re telling me that thing’s smart?”
I nodded grimly. “It was supposed to be a commander-beast. The project was shut down when it turned on its own handlers during testing. They tried to wipe its core. Failed.”
“And the game makers rebuilt it?”
“Brought it here along with the lesser Tyvarin and modified it,” I said. “Probably installed behavioural overrides or some kind of neural dampening. But if the original mind is still in there…”
Clare went very still. “Then it’s not just a monster.”
Ba’quoo’s voice pulsed through our minds again, laced with tension. It descends. There is purpose in its flight. Not hunger. Not rage. Something colder.
I looked up. The light through the crystal ceiling had changed – shadowed now, flickering with movement.
“I think it remembers what it was made for,” I murmured. “But that doesn’t mean it’s beyond saving.”
Clare turned to me, eyes wide. “Wait. That monster is coming to kill us. And you want to save it? How is that supposed to work?”
I didn’t answer. Not yet. Because above us, something changed.
The light filtering through the crystalline veins in the ceiling dimmed, shadows sliding like liquid across the cavern floor. Then came the vibration – low, rhythmic, building from the stone itself like a second heartbeat.
Ba’quoo's feathers rippled and the chii around him scattered. It comes. You must move. This place is not safe.
The faintest tremor rippled through the crates stacked around us. Dust drifted from the high ledges. Somewhere above, something struck the mountain with enough force to make the entire cave shudder.
And then the diamonds in the ceiling – those slivers of light that had let in the morning sun – fractured.
Light speared inward as something enormous passed overhead. Not just wings. Not just mass. But presence.
Tyvaron had found us.
My mind went blank. I acted on instinct. I grabbed Clare around the waist, cradled her against my waist and sped towards the exit as fast as my coils allowed. I knew the chii would be fine. I had to protect my mate.
Drones would be waiting outside, but it was no longer safe in the cave. The ceiling could give in at any moment. If a second Tyvarin landed on the mountain…everything would crumble. I had to hurry.
“I can run!” Clare hissed, struggling against my hold on her.
“I know. But I am faster.”
She muttered something beneath her breath but stopped complaining.
She knew I was right. I may not have had legs, but I was bigger, stronger.
I ignored the scrape of the diamond shards against my scales as I rushed us to the ledge leading to the tunnel we’d used last night.
The gap in the rocks widened at our approach, giving way to freedom. And disaster.
We burst into the open.
The cold air slapped against my skin, sharp with the acrid tang of scorched rock. Clare squinted against the light, her arms instinctively wrapping tighter around me as I halted just short of the cliff’s edge.
And there–spread across the sky like a dark tide–were the others.
Three. No, four.
Tyvarin.
Not as large as Tyvaron, but still massive.
Wings like tattered banners. Serrated metal fused to organic bone.
Their eyes glowed with the same cold fire–red pinpricks scanning the terrain below them.
One circled low, releasing a hissing breath that ignited the treetops far down in the valley in a slow, crawling blaze.
Clare gasped. “Stars above…”
I coiled protectively around her, keeping us close to the entrance to the cave, sheltered below an outcrop. My mind raced. Tyvaron hadn’t landed yet–but it didn’t need to land to kill us. It could breathe fire.
“They’re coordinating,” I said grimly. “They’re cutting off all escape routes. Even if we somehow make it down the mountain, we can’t get through that fire.”
Clare’s hand touched my arm. “You said they had tactical minds. That they could think.”
“They’re not wild animals. They're weapons. And someone’s giving the orders.”
A high-pitched screech cut through the air. One of the lesser Tyvarin dove, unleashing a spiral of green fire. The blaze licked across the rocks and slammed into the cliff face below us. Stone cracked.
We had seconds.
I wrapped my arms tighter around Clare and turned, ready to bolt for cover.
Then the sky exploded.
A beam of focused light tore through the clouds. It struck the diving Tyvarin mid-wing, and the beast shrieked–mechanical and organic agony entwined. It spiralled, then slammed into the mountainside in a shower of stone and molten circuits.
The sound that followed sent a chill through my spine.
All doubt that these beasts were sentient vanished. It was in agony. And it was scared. I hoped it wouldn’t suffer for long. It hadn’t chosen to be here. None of us had. We were just pawns on the game makers’ board.
Another sound, so loud it made me cower above Clare protectively.
A sonic boom. The sound of hope.
Clare looked up just as a sleek, angular shadow broke through the upper atmosphere–glowing engines blazing, its hull gleaming crimson and gold.
“Please tell me that’s the Bloodstar,” she whispered.
“It’s one of their shuttles, I believe. I hope.”
Another shot rang out–precise, clean. A second Tyvarin veered off, retreating into the clouds.
I didn’t wait.
“This is our chance!” I shouted. “While they’re regrouping!”
She nodded, already moving beside me.
We ran.
Behind us, the sky roared with fire and fury.
The shuttle swept down like a god of salvation, engines kicking up a cyclone of stone and ash. Clare coughed, shielding her face as I held her tight with one coil, steadying us against the blast.
The loading ramp extended mid-air, hissing open with a burst of steam. The shuttle didn’t land – it hovered just low enough to make the jump possible.
A voice crackled through the external speaker, mechanical and unfamiliar. “Venom and Clare. Confirmed. Move before we get fried by a klatting firebeast!”
That did not sound like the game makers.
The Bloodstar’s crew had come for us.
I tightened my hold on Clare. “Jump on my signal.”
She didn’t argue this time.
We leapt. My coils coiled and released, propelling us toward the open ramp. We landed hard, sliding on the metal surface as the platform began retracting the moment we were aboard.
Inside was dim, sterile. Straps and sealed crates lined the interior bay. The pilot remained unseen behind a shielded cockpit. No one rushed to greet us.
Clare sat down slowly, her breath shaky. “You… know these people?”
I shook my head while I engaged the automated seatbelt system to secure her safely into the seat. “Only through messages. I’ve never met them. They offered assistance – I didn’t expect them to actually come.”
She gave a soft, bitter laugh. “And me? I’ve been here the whole time. Woke up in a cryopod and the first being I met was a monster who wanted to use me as his toy. Still haven’t spoken to a single human.”
I reached for her hand. She let me hold it.
The shuttle pulled away from the mountain. I turned toward the narrow viewport in the rear bulkhead – just in time to see the sky darken.
Tyvaron.
He hovered above the cliff like a deity born of ruin – wings extended, body outlined in firelight. He didn’t follow. Didn’t roar. Just hovered, watching the shuttle as we pulled away.
And for a moment… he looked like a person. Not in form, but in intent. In restraint.
His glowing red eyes met mine.
I held my breath.
Then his wings folded, and he turned away – disappearing into the clouds with a trembling roar.
Clare whispered, “He let us go. He could have attacked the shuttle, but he didn’t.”
I nodded. “I think he did. He gave us a chance. Now we have to take it.”
“We have to save the other women. Shut down the Trials. Punish those responsible.”
My chest tightened at the passion in her voice. She could have turned from Kalumbu, run to a safe place, enjoyed her life. Instead, she was thinking of others. And of revenge.
I squeezed her hand. “I promise.”