Chapter 17 ZAPHAROS #2
The irony made me laugh once, sharp and bitter.
It was ironic that the Arkhevari and the Pandraxians would both be hunting the same fragile species for their soulmates.
Even more so because the Pandraxians—like the rest of the universe—didn’t even know we still existed.
To them, the Arkhevari were nothing but legends.
Ghost stories of old. The creators of time and space.
The laugh broke from me again, darker this time. Creators of time and space? Perhaps once. Now we were nothing but harbingers of death, wading through the ashes of every world we touched.
It was hard to believe that Daryus would trust another female with the role that whispered in shadows, that bent truth and rumor into weapons, especially after I read what happened with Lady Madeema.
Perhaps he was more desperate than I thought.
Or perhaps this female was more dangerous than she appeared.
Her file lingered on the screen, her eyes caught mid-blink in some security capture. Mortal. Breakable. Nothing special. And yet, there was a sharpness in her gaze I did not expect.
Useful. She could be useful.
I stared at the dossier. Human, female, of Earth origin, but with markers in her genome that should not exist. An accident, or a lie?
Didn’t matter. She was due to be promoted to Chief Intelligence Officer, the left hand of the emperor, within the next cycle.
And she was already in position, running operations from the heart of Pandraxian HQ.
I let the file scroll, sampling the surveillance.
Sloane Storm, in every holo, was a contradiction: sharper than any weapon, but with a carelessness that bordered on suicidal.
She flouted protocol, cut corners, and made enemies with the ease of someone who’d never met someone who could challenge her.
Most of the logs stemmed from her time on Earth.
But I also saw entries that she was friends with another human female, who happened to be the Pandraxian High Supreme Commander's mate. The female had friends in high places.
I leaned back, letting the warship glide on autopilot, and thought.
I composed the message in my mind, stripping away all identifiers, all traces of origin.
A pulse of code, encrypted in three dead languages, buried in a diplomatic packet.
By the time it reached her, she would have no idea who had sent it, except for the one signature that mattered: the promise of something she could not ignore.
Me:
Storm. Meet me. Off-record. You will facilitate my audience with your emperor.
The message pulsed out into the void, a dagger wrapped in shadows.
I sat back in the pilot’s chair, wondering.
What kind of human dared to wear the mask of a spymaster?
What kind of female would this Sloane Storm turn out to be?
Would she try to outwit me? The return ping came faster than I expected.
She was good. Very good. The message was a single line, with no preamble or signature.
Sloane:
Who the hell are you?
I allowed myself the faintest curl of a smile. Direct. Suspicious. Sharp. Exactly what I expected from someone who might be the next Chief Intelligence Officer. I keyed my reply into the encrypted channel, every word layered with shadows of code.
Me:
The one who will get you into more trouble than you can survive if you keep asking questions.
Seconds later, her response snapped back.
Sloane:
Cute. But I don’t meet with ghosts. Try again.
My jaw tightened. Ghosts? That was what they thought of us now? Perhaps fitting, given how we lingered on the edges of existence. Still, I let the sting bleed into my words.
Me:
Not a ghost. I'm an Arkhevari.
The pause before her answer was longer this time, as if she was deciding whether to laugh in my face or sound the alarm. When it came, her reply was dry, cutting.
Sloane:
Right. And I’m the Queen of the Void. If you want something from me, start making sense.
I leaned back in the pilot’s chair, my aura rippling with irritation.
She sounded a lot like Ella, making me wonder if this was a human female trait.
She didn’t believe me—of course, she didn’t.
The Pandraxians thought my kind were myths.
To mortals like her, we were bedtime stories turned nightmares.
Me:
You don’t need to believe me. You just need to do your job. Facilitate a meeting. Daryus and I have business.
Her ping returned almost instantly.
Sloane:
And why would I stick my neck out for you?
I hesitated, then let the truth strike like a blade.
Me:
Because if you don’t, the Abyss will eat your emperor alive. And you with him. Or just ask him.
This time, she didn’t respond right away. I sat in the silence, watching the stars streak past, knowing I’d caught her attention. Finally.
Sloane:
Give me a location.
I smiled, all teeth. She was already playing the game. I keyed in the coordinates of a neutral outpost. I wanted to see how she would handle it, whether she would come alone or with an army. Whether she would try to kill me on sight.
The confirmation came, curt and clean.
Sloane:
I’ll be there. Don’t waste my time.
I closed the channel and erased all traces of our comm, then I leaned back into the pilot’s seat and let the thrill of the hunt fill me. For the first time in centuries, I felt alive. Not just as a weapon, not just as a curse, but something else. Something more.
The ship banked, engines burning blue, and I set a course for the rendezvous.
Let the games begin.