“Any sign of the stolen Dythum crystals from the General’s treasure room?”
“No,” Jurt growls. “I would guess that treasure was sold off the moment the Kaul got his greedy hands on it. You said he’s being held in the dungeon?”
The alien grunts with a quick bob of his chin.
“I shall pay him a visit. It isn’t often you see a Star Maverick behind bars.”
“Or executed,” the alien chuckles with sinister glee. “I look forward to seeing the Kaul’s head separated from his body.”
As Jurt wraps up his conversation and continues on his way, oblivious to my inner turmoil, I swallow back the bitter taste of fear yet hold tight to my unwavering determination. Behtu's predicament is entirely of his own making, but that still isn’t going to stop me from saving him.
The shadows of a towering structure loom over me as I follow behind Jurt. When he turns and enters through a side door, my heart pounds a relentless rhythm against my ribs.
I’ve made it inside the palace!
Hold on, Behtu,I vow silently.I’m coming for you.
Sweat trickles down my spine. My lungs burn with the acrid stench of the palace’s interior, but it's fear for Behtu that tightens my throat, turning each breath into a silent plea. The feel of the blaster gun bouncing on my hip with every step keeps my panic at bay.
Jurt starts down a set of spiraling stone steps shrouded in darkness, a gaping maw waiting to swallow me up. The air grows colder the farther we travel into the underbelly of the dismal structure until we reach the bottom.
The path ahead winds through a dimly lit passage, shadows dancing eerily against the walls as if alive. Unexplained flames leap and dance in alcoves along the corridor, casting flickering light that seems to defy logic, burning without fuel.
The dungeon reeks of decay and desperation, and the walls echo with the quiet sobs and shuffling of the defeated. My eyes adjust to the dimness, and I make out rows of cells, each one a cage trapping life and hope alike. Two guards stand sentry outside a random cell and Jurt pauses to peer inside.
And then I see him—Behtu!Slumped against the wall of his cell, his long white hair a stark contrast against the blue of his skin, now dulled in captivity. He looks smaller, the space around him too vast for the arrogant, cocksure Kaul.
"Behtu," I breathe out, barely louder than a sigh. His head snaps up, the dullness in his eyes giving way to sharp focus as he searches the space beyond the bars of his cage.
Slowly, I lift my hood just enough for him to catch sight of my face. In the pale light, our gazes lock, and then my face is bathed in a bright flash of white light.
Chapter
Four
BEHTU
As soon as I see her, heat courses through my veins, a relentless surge that cannot be contained. The white light that bathes my fated mate’s perfect face comes from the glow of my sivot’s eyes. She is clad in the robing of a Gehrt slave, and everything within me fractures in primal recognition. My sivot erupts forth, a violent awakening that marks the end of who I am and the beginning of something ferocious and inexorable.
The air around me tightens, electric with the force of my transformation. My skin ripples, muscles bulging and expanding beyond the confines of my humanoid form. The power is immense, intoxicating. With each heartbeat, my stature grows, towering now where I once merely stood. My back arches involuntarily, sinews stretching as wild hair sprouts along the ridge of my spine, cascading down my arms in a tempest of untamed strength.
My hands morph, fingers elongating into lethal black claws that can shred metalloid as easily as flesh. My mouth contorts,jaw aching as it widens, teeth sharpening into deadly fangs designed to tear and rend. The white glow of my eyes intensifies, cutting through the dimness like twin stars, fierce and unyielding.
I cease being Behtu and become my sivot, the feral beast with the singular purpose of protecting what is mine. The design of my corium grows, becoming a solid sheet that encases my sivot’s arm from shoulder to wrist. With a single thought, my sivot can deploy it into an impenetrable shield ready to defend against any threat. My newfound size is a testament to the lineage I once forsook, a noble birthright now manifest in monstrous form.
This is not just a display of might; it is a promise—a vow made in the language of flesh and fury. Jules, with her curious verdant gaze and steadfast heart, has unknowingly called forth the depths of my being. And my sivot will tear apart Vont 4 to safeguard her.
The cage is now a trifling barrier, its metalloid groaning under the wrath of my sivot. Fingernails, now morphed into blackened scythes of destruction, make short work of the barred door, tearing it from its hinges with a resounding crash that echoes through the dungeon along with a feral roar that rattles the stone walls.
"Behtu!" Her voice is a beacon, piercing the veil of my primal rage.
My sivot surges forward with protective instincts honed to a razor's edge. The guards move to intercept, their weapons drawn, but they might as well be younglings brandishing sticks against a supernova.
With brutal efficiency, my sivot dispatches the first guard, claws sinking into his armored chest with a wet crunch. His scream is choked off as quickly as it starts, my sivot’s hand withdrawing only to silence the other with a swipe that easilycleaves through his collarbone. Their bodies slump to the ground, lifeless husks discarded without a second thought.
The alien who accompanies her recoils at the sight of his fallen comrades. He fumbles for a weapon, but his movements are sluggish, hampered by disbelief and dread. My sivot is upon him before he can level his blaster, jaws clamping around his thick neck, tasting the copper tang of his foul blood. With a savage twist, the connection between head and spine severs, and his body crumples at my sivot’s feet.
My sivot’s breath comes in harsh pants, misting in the cold air of the dungeon. The scent of blood, sharp and iron-rich, fills the air, but it is Jules' scent that reigns supreme—sweet and alive, mingling with the faintest hint of fear and determination.
