Chapter 21 Ordained Fate
Ordained Fate
IDAN
The Máashìi, Molan’s corvette of matte-brushed gunmetal, carved a silent trajectory through the violet pre-dawn.
The ship descended towards the emerald planet, Dunia.
Molan sat at the controls alongside Ki’Remi, while Issa sat on a crash couch close by.
Sheba and Idan occupied the second row of passenger seats, which provided them with some privacy.
The viewscreen displayed golden wheat pastures and orchards of ripening pomegranates, figs, and mangoes, blurring in a smear of autumnal color.
Neat battalions of kahawa plants marched toward the horizon, their waxy leaves gleaming in the sun.
Idan glanced at Sheba, beside him.
Their eyes locked, and he arched a brow in a silent, searching question, his amber gaze probing the lingering friction between them.
The tension that had corded his muscles since their rooftop argument two nights ago was finally yielding to reason.
He reached out, his sinewed hand enveloping hers before he brought her knuckles to his lips.
‘I’m sorry, salkia,’ he growled under the hum of the engines.
‘I let the urban sprawl get to me and turn me into a fokkin’ mess.
I never meant my disaffection to affect you so, and have no excuse for my boorishness.
My instinct to cage you is a flaw I’m also struggling to control. I’ll endeavor to tamp it down.’
Sheba exhaled, as if releasing the last of her annoyance as he went on.
‘The truth is I can’t fake who I am, but you’re the only soul who calms me, beautiful. Yet I also don’t want to be the man who stirs up shit and leaves you stressed. I’m trying to be the one you actually keep, for eternity this time.’
Their eyes locked for a long beat as emotion swelled between them.
Sheba gave in to it with a sigh.
‘You’re forgiven, but only because you made me the most delicious breakfast and more this morning,’ she murmured.
He’d roused her at dawn with the aroma of fresh-ground kahawa and a stack of Sacran pancakes. Each delicate, golden, and folded, filled with soft cheese curds and drizzled in wild honey.
Then, he used his mouth and hands to worship her body until she screamed his name into the pillows, in a frantic, beautiful release.
Now, a small, genuine smile curved her lips, warming his heart.
The coiled stress in Idan’s chest eased, the invisible claws of his possessiveness retreating into the shadows.
Still, a residual tremor of anxiety remained; this meeting with Issa’s father was pivotal to their resistance against Sulfiqar.
He needed some freakin’ hope to anchor him because, without shaking his past and traitorous father free, he’d never be anything more than a ghost haunted by a bloodline he never chose.
The vessel’s thrusters slowed, the hull settling into the red earth with a final shudder on a clearing tucked behind a sprawling grove of ancient, gnarled acacia.
Beyond the fields, the thatched roofs of homesteads glistened with a coat of fresh dew.
Molan unlatched his harness, nodding to Issa, Rina, Sheba, and Ki’Remi. ‘We’re here, folks, let’s roll.’
A shimmer of refracted light signaled Mirage’s presence as she glimmered into view, in combat boots, a shiny jumpsuit, and an over-the-top faux fur jacket.
The air that rushed in through the descending gangway was invigorating, crisp, and loaded with the scent of damp earth and hay.
The trill of birdsong echoed from the orchards, and the distant lowing of cattle drew Idan’s eye as he took in the stunning vista.
Issa led the party toward a farmhouse constructed from pale limestone and sun-baked red clay.
The structure featured a heritage-style roof and a wrap-around veranda. Sheer curtains fluttered in the unlocked windows, and a porch swing invited weary guests to sit.
The heavy timber front door swung open.
A man of formidable stature stepped into the light, his skin the color of deep bronze and his locs a fall of silver and ash.
His eyes, burning with the swirling luminescence of distant nebulae, locked onto the approaching group.
‘Issa, darling,’ he rumbled, his voice a tidal force of affection.
The fae like goddess crossed the distance in a blur of motion, throwing herself into her father’s clasp.
He gathered her to his chest, radiating a deep devotion.
‘My daughter,’ he murmured.
A woman followed him on the porch, her presence regal and timeless, her coils of dark hair woven with silver thread.
Her eyes mirrored Issa’s, wild, celestial, and teeming with galaxies.
With a joyous cry, she joined in the embrace.
Ki’Remi stepped forward and was folded into the group hug.
When the quartet finally pulled apart, the older man’s focus shifted to Mo.
‘Molan, my Sacran adopted son, welcome.’
Mo too got the hug treatment, as did Sheba.
‘I remember you from Issa’s wedding, the battle medic with wild stories from the frontiers,’ he grinned. ‘Welcome.’
Finally, he turned to Idan.
Shock flared in his golden gaze, and he began to lower himself into a formal kneeling posture.
Idan moved, his hand outstretched to halt the veteran’s descent.
‘One general cannot kneel before another,’ Idan declared, his tone resonating with a profound, solemn respect.
‘Stand, General Zephyr Astraeus D’Leqan.
First Blade of the Dawning Flame, Father of Storm and Mercy, Keeper of the Lionhearted Line of Sacra.
You who stood beneath a thousand suns and did not waver, whose roar once silenced battlefields, and whose embrace sheltered the stars.
You remain wounded but unbroken, cast from the heavens yet carrying the sky on your shoulders. Your legend precedes you.’
Despite the protest, Zephyr offered a deep, respectful bow. ‘I welcome you, Commander Simi’Ren Idan Caliostheles. My hearth is yours.’
Idan turned to Issa’s mother, inclining his head with respect.
‘Your daughter spoke of your beauty, Raquel Asilla Ministrant D’Leqan, but she did not pay it sufficient honor. Heartmother of the Seven Winds, Flame-Womb of the Radiant Lineage, The Quiet Star That Endures.’
Beaming, Zephyr ushered them into the interior, his hand resting on Issa’s waist.
‘Your siblings, Iyanda and Safiya, have abandoned us for the distractions of New Malindi,’ he explained, a wry smile softening his rugged features. ‘They prefer the pulse of the city over the silence of a stuffy farm.’
‘Typical,’ Issa smiled.
‘Stuffy is the last word I would choose for this sacred space,’ Sheba countered.
Idan’s gaze lingered on the craftsmanship of the home as they filed into a living room that offered a panoramic view of the mountains.
Raquel guided the group toward a set of divans, the furniture plush and upholstered in thick, moss-colored velvet, its luxuriousness consuming Idan as he sank into it.
He surrendered to the sumptuousness, as a sigh escaped his lips.
This farmhouse was a sanctuary of comfort.
Idan sensed the residence lay on a foundation of joy, love, and warmth, far from the cold steel and blood-soaked marble palaces of Sacra.
Massive timber beams stretched across the ceiling, and pillars of morning sunlight danced over the plaster as light filtered through the latticed windows.
The air was redolent with a complex blend of scents: cardamom, cumin, and roasted cloves intertwined with the steam of slow-cooked meats and the yeasty aroma of fresh bread.
The atmosphere wrapped around Idan, embedding itself in his soul and offering a quiet, comforting welcome.
Zephyr and Raquel moved with a fluid, domestic synchronicity, serving steaming cups of tea and thick coffee alongside Sacran honey cakes.
The pastries dripped with a translucent amber nectar glaze and boasted a royal jelly custard center.
‘From my hives in the northern pasture,’ Zephyr noted, his chest swelling with pride.
Idan studied the veteran and got struck by a pang of longing for the life Zephyr built. He closed his eyes for a beat, imagining a similar future.
Fokk, he’d give his heart and soul for a slice of this paradise, with Sheba.
Minutes later, while his woman chatted with Raquel, Zephyr seated himself across from Ki’Remi, Issa, and the brothers, joining them in a huddle.
Mirage sat by, listening and taking holo notes.
Zephyr narrowed his eyes, his focus alternating between Idan and Molan. ‘Which of you two claims seniority? Who is older?’
Idan raised his chin. ‘The truth remains elusive, Sire. When Molan’s mother plummeted through the rift, she entered a temporal well; we cannot discern if she surrendered one year or thirty to the void.
As for my own exile to Pegasi, I endured a gravity well that claimed perhaps two decades.
We remain adrift in chronology unless we find a time magus to untangle the knots. ’
‘De nada,’ the General replied, waving a hand.
‘The specifics of the clock matter little. When I scrutinize your features, I see the similar bridge of the nose, the same set of the jaw. But more than that, I recognize the menace and the unrelenting drive behind your gaze. You both possess a fervent, identical hunger for autonomy. From whom is the question?’
‘Indeed,’ Molan muttered. ‘We come to you with an urgent request, Sir.’
The brothers mapped out their confrontations with Sulfiqar and the three-month ultimatum he issued.
Zephyr listened, his expression darkening until he let out a short scoff.
‘You should concern yourself less with his wrath and more with his sense of theater,’ the former general warned.
‘The Divine Immortal does not crawl through the shadows or enact his vengeance in silence. When he rises, he will orchestrate a spectacle grander than any myth in the history of the sector.’
He leaned back, his eyes flickering with disdain. ‘He will announce his presence with trumpets, thunder, and a pageantry of fire, for he always commences with a farcical display.’
Ki’Remi shook his head, his hands folded tight. ‘I mean no offense to your Sacran heritage, but Sivania is a realm plagued by too many deities with narcissistic egos.’