I glance at the screen again—newsfeeds piling up like corpses. Protests erupting. IHC ambassadors scrambling to issue statements of condemnation. A few brave senators demand war tribunals. Earth First operatives are fleeing. The media spins and spirals and shouts.
But all I care about is the man in the tube.
“I’m not going to let them have her again,” I say softly.
“No one’s taking me,” Chelsea adds, her tiny fists clenched.
“That’s right,” I say. “No one. You’re his daughter. You’re mine. And we’ve already bled for you.”
The comm crackles again. “Lady Ayla,” Arix says, softer now. “He’s stabilizing. Might be hours. Might be days. But he’s healing.”
I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My knees weaken, and I sink back onto the bench, drawing Chelsea into my lap.
She leans her head against my chest and murmurs, “Sing with me?”
I do.
The lullaby is jagged, haunting—older than any Earth melody, born in the caves of Tyrannus and carried across starfire and void. My voice cracks, but I keep singing.
He needs to hear it.
Kallus doesn’t move, but I swear—Ifeelhim listening.
Every beat of the ship’s hum syncs with the steady thump of his heart.
Every line of the melody flows through me like blood returning to frozen limbs.
And I know he’ll wake.
He has to.
CHAPTER 27
KALLUS
Darkness used to mean something simple—an absence. The nothing between stars. But now it has weight, a flavor, a pull. I swim through it, half-dreaming, half-bleeding, the hum of the ship vibrating through the marrow of my new chest.
I wake gasping.
Pain is my first anchor—searing, sharp, but vital. I welcome it. Pain means I'm alive. My eyes snap open, red flashing across the medbay ceiling. The scent of sterilization fluid stings my nose, but beneath it—so faint I almost think I imagine it—jasmine and starflower. Ayla.
But it’s not her voice I hear first.
It’s my own, rasping like gravel dragged across steel. “Chelsea…”
The ship’s AI chirps softly. “Subject Kallus. Vital functions nominal. Alerting designated guardians.”
I sit up too fast. The rebuilt flesh across my sternum groans and tears slightly—bone plates shift beneath regrown muscle, still bonding. I grit my teeth. “Where is she?”
The medbot hovers into view. “Stabilization incomplete. Additional rest recomm?—”
I snarl. “Where. Is. My. Daughter.”
The hatch slides open with a soft hiss.
Tiny feet pad into the room. I know the rhythm before I see her—like the quiet steps of a jungle stalker. I’ve hunted creatures that moved less deliberately.
Chelsea enters the medbay, framed by the soft corridor lights behind her. Her wild hair is tied back in a warrior’s knot, and her eyes… Ancients above, her eyes glow like molten ruby. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t speak.
