And Ryzen. That thin emerald thread that pulsed with grief and purpose and something neither of us would name.
I didn’t follow the thread. Instead, I reachedpastit—projected my consciousness toward him like a laser beam from a psygun.
The sensation was strange. Like walking toward a mirror that kept moving back. Like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.
Then I touched him.
Not through the bond—outsideit. A deliberate brush of consciousness against his mental shields, asking permission rather than assuming access.
Ryzen’s shields parted.
The intimacy of it stole my breath. This wasn’t like the accidental glimpses I’d caught through our bond—this was immersion. His mind unfolded around me like a vast, echoing chamber filled with emerald light and deep shadow. I felt his grief for Xenak like a physical wound, raw and bleeding. Felt his desperate hope that I could help him reach his brother again. Felt…
Oh.
Something stirred beneath the surface of his thoughts. Something he was actively trying to suppress. A pull toward me that had nothing to do with training or necessity—a hunger that matched the way he’d looked at me when I walked into the garden.
“Good.”His voice came from far away and very close all at once.“Now deeper. I want to show you how I maintained my link to Xenak across half the galaxy.”
He guided me further into his consciousness—showed me the technique like an architect showing blueprints. Anchor points. Resonance frequencies. The way familial bonds created pathways that distance couldn’t fully sever.
Memories brushed against mine. Ryzen and Xenak as children, training together under harsh Verya masters. The moment their brotherhood became something deeper—a mental link that transcended mere blood. The agony of feeling that link stretch thin when Xenak was captured, not breaking butattenuating,until every connection felt like holding onto smoke.
And beneath it all, the crushing loneliness. The sense that no one understood—that he was screaming into a void and no one could hear him.
Until me.
“Enough.”His mental voice was strained.“You’ve seen enough.”
I withdrew carefully, leaving his consciousness like retreating from a deep ocean. My eyes opened to find him watching me with an expression I couldn’t fully read.
“Now,” he said, his voice rough, “try reaching for Zirene.”
My heart clenched. “He’s light-years away.”
“Your Shadow-Nova bond doesn’t care about distance. It only cares about strength.” Ryzen shifted closer, his presence solid and anchoring. “I’ll steady you. Use me as a foundation—push off from my consciousness like a swimmer pushing off the wall.”
I closed my eyes again and found Zirene’s thread in my constellation—that deep, dark connection that pulsed with shadow and starlight. The dreamscape made it easy to reach him while we slept, but now, awake, with the full weight of reality pressing down…
I pushed.
Ryzen’s consciousness formed a platform beneath me—solid, stable, emerald-bright. I used it the way he’d described, launching myself along my bond with every ounce of mental strength I possessed.
The distance was staggering. I felt myself stretch, attenuate, spread thin across impossible space. My physical body grew distant—a shell I’d left behind in a gazebo somewhere far, far away.
And then—
Zirene.
I touched his consciousness like dawn touching dark water. He was on a ship—I felt the hum of engines, the tension of command, the weight of a hundred decisions pressing down on him. He was exhausted. Grieving. Fighting a war he wasn’t sure they could win.
But when he felt me—
“Nova.”His mental voice was ragged with surprise and fierce, desperate joy. “You’re awake. How—”
“Training with Ryzen, remember?”I sent back. “He’s helping me strengthen my reach.”
He accepted me instantly, pulling me deeper into his consciousness with a hunger that bordered on desperation. The connection solidified—for one shimmering moment, it was almost like the dreamscape. Almost like being held.
