Nothing. Just silence, like shouting into a well that swallowed every word. I tried again, harder this time.Zapharos, I don’t know if you can hear me. But I need you. Please.
Still nothing. No spark, no whisper, no thread tying me back to him. Only the echo of my own panic. Damn him, how did he do this mind thing? And if I were his Aelyth, shouldn't I be able to? Anyway, it was the only hope I had, pathetic as it was. I was hanging on a thread I would have laughed at months ago, mind control? Then again, I would have laughed at the mention of aliens, too. So, that's that.
Nythor’s voice cut through the silence, low and venomous. “The Cryons. They know where Earth is.”
He leaned over me suddenly, too close, and his shadow blotted out the faint glow of the consoles. “We will go talk to them.”
My mouth went dry. Not the Cryons. I couldn't go back to them.
"That is madness," I told him.
"It's the only way."
"They will kill us both," I tried.
He laughed. "Nobody kills an Arkhevari."
That didn't assure me in the least. I could already sense that I was nothing but a burden to him now. He only took me to find Earth, and now he didn't need me any longer. I was becoming a liability—a liability he was takingback to the Cryons. The terrible circle I had been trying to escape was clawing its way back around me. I was certain that I would not survive another encounter with the species that had enslaved humanity.
I bit down on a cry, forcing my trembling hands into fists.Zaph, please. I don’t know how, but if you can hear me—come.
But all I had was the cold and Nythor’s hateful eyes.
At least Nythor ignored me for the next couple of days, and I was spared his suffocating presence. Still, even that might have been preferable to the fear growing inside me. No, actually, I was beyond fear. I was fighting panic attacks when I wasn't trying to be as calm as possible to mentally reach out to Zaph. Again and again.
Inside the cabin Nythor had stuck me in, I found an instrument I’d seen him use in the command center. He’d called it a comm. It looked like a tablet, only it was oval. It kind of worked like a tablet, too. I even managed to get some screens up, hovering in the air around me—something that normally would have deeply impressed me. The problem was that the writing was alien, and I supposed my translator worked only on spoken words. I tried audible commands, but nothing happened.
I was forced to admit I had no idea how the alien tech worked, and even if I could figure it out, how would I reach Zaph? It wasn't like a phone number, was it? In rare moments like this, my frustration outpaced my panic, and I hit my pillow a few times. I had tried the wall before and gotten nothing but bruisedknuckles.
Without preamble, the door to my quarters opened—Nythor didn't bother with words. His command was instantly inside my head,Come.
Against my will, my legs obeyed, moving me forward. My mind screamed at the Arkhevari,I fucking hate you. I hate your guts. Die, you damn alien, but just like I couldn't reach Zaph mentally, Nythor remained oblivious to my mental threats.
Nythor didn’t bother with subtlety. He shoved me down the corridor, and through the viewports, I could see a hangar yawning open—sleek hulls, crates stacked like tombstones, and, worst of all, the cold forms of Cryons, milling in the shadows, waiting. My head screamednoso loud it hurt. Every instinct shoutedrun,fight,don’t let them touch you. But my legs moved like someone else’s, obedient to Nythor's command. My body betrayed me before my fear could.
Cryons were all wrong up close. Tall and gray-skinned, their bodies looked more engineered than born—armored stalkers with too many joints and black, oil-slick eyes that never blinked. One stepped forward the moment we cleared the ramp. His scent was sharp, metallic, and undercut by something sweet and rotten, and before I could even gasp, its cold, gray hand clamped around my arm.
“Come and meet your new master,” Nythor announced, not to me, but to the Cryons, implying himself.
A cold hand yanked me toward a crude platform. Ishoved at it, claws of panic scraping the air, but the Cryon’s grip was vice-strong—the metal bit into my skin. I tasted iron.
Nythor turned and watched, amusement carved into his face. “You can have her,” he sneered, voice like dry glass. “Keep her.”
Then everything exploded. Other creatures rushed forward; they were hulking and broad, with skin resembling volcanic stone.
A volley of blaster fire erupted from the far side of the hangar. Hot light stitched the air, and Nythor’s smug grin shredded into surprise. A spray of bolts slammed into him, enough to cause him to stagger, enough to tear muscle and focus. He went down to his knees with a curse that sounded almost human. Metal spat and screamed as he fought back, twisting and lashing out with unnatural speed and strength, but the attack had hit him at a weak point. He was wounded, off-balance. The new aliens turned and swarmed the thrashing Arkhevari, overpowering him by sheer numbers. They weren't as big as the Arkhevari, but Nythor didn't stand a chance against the onslaught. Blood arced from several wounds as he fought. The Cryon, who held me, gripped me tighter, pulling me away as I watched Nythor go down, enveloped by the aliens like a swarm reclaiming a fallen hive. He flailed, but their numbers and armor ground him down. Overwhelmed, he was bound and forced on his feet. Odd. Did his mind control not work on these monsters?
The Cryon’s grip on my arm was bruising, hisfingers like a clamp of iron. Two more shoved me forward, dragging me toward the yawning airlock. Then they stopped. Figures waited at the threshold. At first glance, they didn’t even look real—long, spindly arms and legs, with heads that were grotesquely oversized and perched on necks so thin they should have broken under the weight. Their green, slanted eyes gleamed with an unnatural sheen, swallowing most of their faces. Three dark points between them twitched, nostrils sucking in the air like they were tasting me. Below that, lipless mouths hung open in perfect O’s, as if they had been born mid-gasp and never closed again.
The Cryon hauling me forward spoke in a series of clipped, metallic clicks. My translator rendered it flatly, “She’s yours.”
One of the spindly creatures stepped closer, his eyes were raking over me like I was nothing more than livestock. His head bobbed once. “Looks like excellent breeding stock.”
My stomach turned to ice.
Instead of shoving me into a cage like before, they maneuvered me toward a narrow cylinder standing upright against the wall. It was barely wide enough for me to turn around inside, tall enough that I could stand—or curl up if I collapsed. Cold metal pressed against my back as they sealed me in, and a transparent barrier hummed to life before my face.
With utter panic and furious helplessness, I screamed, the sound tore from my throat, but the hangar swallowedit, making my voice sound small and thin, an echo already forgotten.
