Travis and Silvia took their positions on the other side of Alek, while Pierre stood next to Mila, forming a solid line of defense. Mila's voice rang out, unyielding and commanding. “You will let this woman go, and you will take full responsibility for her husband’s death.”
The commander from hell’s response was a grating laugh, as though he would rather face death than comply. “Oh, you kids crack me up,” he sneered. “Here’s the real deal: leave with us without any form of resistance and instead of killing you all, I’ll take you back to the Cave. You can await trial for your insubordination.”
Alek remained cold as steel, but Pierre’s brow lifted in mock surprise. “You clearly haven’t realized you’re not in a position of power anymore. I’d advise you to take a good look at your men—theyseem to have figured it out.”
“They’re all cowards!” he spat; his face twisted with contempt.
“Be that as it may, these cowards have got it right,” Pierre replied, his tone dry and detached.
In a flash, the captain drew his gun and leveled it at Mila’s chest.
Big mistake.
Alek moved—faster than thought, faster than breath—his Skindo slicing through the air with lethal precision. The blade struck clean, opening the captain’s throat in one fluid motion.
He crumpled without a sound, the gun falling from his lifeless hand. Useless. Irrelevant. Just like him.
I watched in awe as Alek’s Skindo disappeared back into his tattoo, and a thrill sparked in my chest as I whispered, “He’s from Cyclos.”
No one responded, their attention locked on the unfolding scene, all standing frozen, and staring at the carnage before them. Horror flickered across their faces as they looked down at their wrists, each one bearing a sensor—the very devices Stephen claimed could detect every translation.
Not one had gone off.
Their eyes were wide with terror as they glanced back at Alek.
“Not possible,” one of them whispered, shock written all over him.
“And yet, it is,” Mila retorted, her smile vicious and baring her teeth in grim satisfaction.
Turning her head sideways, the look in Mila’s eyes melted as she stared at Alek. Disregarding the rest of the scene, she rose on her toes and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth.
For a fleeting moment, Alek’s expression softened, but as Mila stepped back, his ice-cold demeanor returned. He locked his focus on the remaining Trackers, then shifted his gaze to the dead husband of the woman, who was now sobbing uncontrollably behind them.
“You’ll all pay for this,” Silvia declared with a steely resolve.
Alek shot out his Skindo once more, imbued it with his midnight purple energy and forcefully thrust it forward through the air. Within a heartbeat, the first Tracker’s head tumbled to the ground. The others followed in the seconds after, until none of them were left standing.
Mila and Silvia moved to help the woman walk, while Pierre and Travis carefully carried her husband’s lifeless body. Alek then flicked his hand in a swift motion, and made the blood and bodies vanish, like they had never been there in the first place.
As they walked away, turning a corner, Silvia’s voice reached me one last time. “I don’t know how that works, but you not setting off those sensors is nothing short of a miracle.”
They disappeared, leaving behind a street which had reverted to an eerie normalcy. My throat tightened painfully, and I stood frozen, overwhelmed by the brutal reality the future would hold.
James’s gentle nudge broke through my shock, signaling me we were about to portal back to our time.
I turned around and watched as the blue portal began to shimmer.
Sitting back in the Stephen’s chairs, a heavy silence enveloped us. I remained mute, struggling to process the harrowing scenes we had just witnessed.
James, capitalizing on a rare moment of quiet, began to explain. “Stephen figured out how the targeting of magi by Trackers will be made possible by the LiaPrisms we hand over to humans to guarantee their safety. As you saw, they crafted its technology into horrors beyond imagination. Sensors, the Cave…” James’s words trailed off.
He cleared his throat. “He then confided in the Maumars three years ago, and together, they devised a plan to prevent it from happening.”
“What plan?” I whispered, the question hanging in the air.
James turned toward me, keeping his expression solemn. “Me. I was the plan.”
SIXTEEN
