Her words, a challenge if I'd ever heard one, stopped me midstride. Slowly, I looked back.
"You mistake certainty for fear," I set her straight.
"I don't," she replied. "I recognize it. You've already seen what happens if you're right. You don't know what happens if you're wrong."
The words threaded themselves into places I did not allow anyone access to. Behind me, Heather had gone very still. Daryus said nothing, only watching us like someone would study two fighters to see who to bet on. I took one step toward Nadine, just close enough that she'd feel it: the weight, the presence, the restrained violence that followed me like a second shadow. I allowed my aura to flare black for a moment. It took immense self-control to let it through and push it back down.
"If you won't allow your mind to adapt," I warned quietly, "you'll see things that will ruin you."
Her pulse jumped. I could see it at her throat. She was mulling my words over. Good. Silence fell again.
I straightened abruptly. Enough. "This conversation is over. Stay away from the Abyss."
She met my gaze evenly. "I can't."
I knew she meant it. That was the problem. But not mine. I had other things to do. Namely, getting Nythor away from the Cryons. I turned and walked out before the pull convinced me to do something unforgivable, like ask her to come with me.
Behind me, the universe did not snap back into place.
It merely waited.
Sleep just wouldn't come.I was used to irregular sleep schedules; some meteors, stars, galaxies, and so on could only be seen at certain hours of the day or night, so I developed a habit of catching six to eight hours whenever I could. Had even trained my body to take advantage of it. All I pretty much had to do was lie down and close my eyes. Not tonight, though. I wasn't sure if it was my mind or body that betrayed me, but one of them wasn't playing fair. Maybe both.
So I lay on my back staring at the softly illuminated ceiling of my quarters, watching the faint patterns of the ship's shielding cycle through their colors, and tried—unsuccessfully—to slow my thoughts. Which inevitably always returned to the same subject: Dravok.
The name alone felt like static in my head. Static that made his words replay themselves, whether I invited them or not. Not because I believed them—absolutely not—but because they had weight. Density. Like equations that refused to resolve, not wrong enough to discard, not right enough to accept.
A god?
Ridiculous.
Utterly, scientifically ridiculous.
And yet the emperor and empress had treated him like a force of nature rather than a delusion. Daryus wasn't the type to be intimidated by anyone or anything. I guess that came with being an emperor of the most powerful force in the universe, but even he seemed…waryaround Dravok. Like someone standing too close to a volatile reaction. Heather had… accommodated him. That unsettled me more than the temper, the arrogance, or even the claims.
Then there was the flickering. I closed my eyes and saw it again behind my lids: that pulsing veil of color around him, black braided with deep red, shifting constantly. Sometimes—just for a fraction of a second—I'd seen gold threaded through it, like light refracted through molten metal.
Fascinating.
No! Focus.
It wasn't an aura. I refused to call it that. It had to be some kind of exotic field interaction, electromagnetic, gravitational, maybe even a byproduct of Arkhevari biology interacting with the ship's shielding.
I wanted to study it.
I want to touch it.
That realization made me groan and roll onto my side, burying my face in the pillow. Great. Just great. It wasn't just his words scrambling my mind. It washim. His presence. The way the space around him felt… charged. I had never reactedto a man like that before. Never. I'd always assumed people exaggerated when they talked about physical attraction as if it were a loss of control.I want to jump his bones, they'd say.
Please—insert eyeroll.
And now?—
Nope. Not going there.
He was infuriating. Condescending. Arrogant. Possibly delusional. There wasnothingin the Dark Abyss—black hole, I corrected myself irritably—NOTHING that pointed to some ancient, otherworldly being with intent.
…Yeah, well, you thought that about aliens, too, didn't you?
