“They’re using him to draw me out.” His runes pulsed brighter, and his spirit daggers resumed their orbit—not chaotic now, but precise. Controlled. Weapons aligning for war. “The Verya have been patient for millennia. They built their empire by outthinking every opponent, by playing games that span generations. If they severed our bond instead of killing him outright, it’s because they want something.”
“You,” I said.
“Yes.” His gaze locked onto mine, the emptiness gone—replaced by something sharper. More dangerous. The fire I’d seen before. “And you. They’re coming for you next, Selena. Whatever you are—whatever the Stars made you—the Verya want it.” His voice dropped, heavy with certainty. “They wantyou.”
The room tilted, just slightly. A moment of vertigo, like my body had tried to reject the truth on reflex.
I’d known this, intellectually. Had heard Celyze’s prophecy, felt the weight of it pressing against my future like a psydagger waiting to fall. But hearing it from Ryzen—from someone who’d grown up under Verya rule, who knew their methods, their patience, their cruelty, who had watched them conquer an entire galaxy—made it real in a way nothing else had.
Failed Experiment. Specimen. Nestqueen. Beacon…
Not titles I’d asked for. Not a crown I’d wanted—but mine to hold.
“Then we face them together.” The words came out steady. Certain. “Whatever they want, whatever they’re planning, we don’t let them divide us. We don’t let them pick us off one by one.”
Ryzen stared at me for a long moment. The thread between us hummed with his surprise. His hope. His desperate, fragile belief that maybe the future wasn’t that dark.
He watched me for a long moment, something unguarded slipping through his expression—like the grief had finally loosened its grip just enough for the man underneath to surface.
“You’re… remarkable,” he said at last, and the words sounded like they surprised him as much as they did me. “Do you know that?”
Heat crept into my cheeks, sharp and unwelcome. “I’m tired,” I said quietly. “I’m pregnant. And I’m terrified the galaxy will burn before my daughter ever takes her first breath.”
He took my hand.
This time his grip didn’t tremble. Firm. Steady. The void inside him hadn’t healed—grief didn’t vanish like a switch flipped—but the hemorrhaging had slowed. The worst of it had stopped. For now, that was enough.
“I won’t let them touch you,” Ryzen said. No theatrics. No volume. A promise forged from something harder than hope. “I won’t let my people—”
“No.” I cut in gently.
His brow furrowed, confused.
“The refugees are your people,” I said. “Not the Verya tearing through our galaxy.” I squeezed his fingers, grounding us both. “What your species does doesn’t define who you are. Q had to learn that. Kaede did too.” I held his gaze. “Now it’s your turn.”
Something shifted in him—not breaking, but opening.
“I’ll protect you,” he said again, softer this time. “With everything I have.”
“I know.” The truth of it settled warm in my chest. “And we’ll save your brother. We’ll get Xenak back.”
His jaw tightened. Pain sharpened his voice. “You can’t promise that. You’ve never dealt with the Verya. You don’t know how they twist things. How they use people.”
His gaze flicked briefly to my stomach.
“You already carry too much.”
I didn’t pull away.
“That doesn’t mean I won’t try,” I said. “They have my people too, Ryzen. They’re hunting my signature.” My voice steadied into the composure the title of Beacon demanded of me. “They’re coming for my family.”
The thread between us pulsed—warm, steady, alive. Not a demand. Not a claim. Just presence. The first spark of hope after endless dark.
His spirit daggers settled into smooth, controlled patterns around him—ready, but no longer wild. His runes burned with renewed purpose, chaos giving way to intent. And through the bridge we’d bound along my shields, I felt him reaching for something he’d thought was gone forever.
Connection.
Family.
