Before the firststar was kindled, before breath and shadow parted ways, all the universe knew was silence. From that hush,the Luminis—the first light—rose. From its reflection, the Abyss stirred. And from both, we were forged: The Arkhevari, children of starlight and shadow. We were the balance. Until we were not.
Wonder is a dangerous thing. Creation, more so. We shaped too much, too fast, and the Abyss—our eternal counterweight—buckled beneath our brilliance. The First Collapse tore open the veil, and countless worlds fell screaming into the dark. Their fire had no river. Their dying breathed new shapes into nothingness. All that lived bled into the wound. And the wound learned to hunger.
In Nox Eternum, where nothing dies or is reborn, the remnants of destroyed worlds gathered: memory, grief, terror, light without source. Eons of pressure forged a will from what should never have been.
Nhal'Vareth—The Harrowed One. The wound that calls.
It was the first thing to ever look back at us from the dark. Many Arkhevari answered its call. None returned unchanged. None, save one. Caelor turned away from the Abyss, his Aelyth Ashera's hand anchored him to the living cosmos. Their names were etched into the stone of time, then erased, as if the universe itself feared their rebellion.
I do not fear their story.
I only fear repeating it.
Because I have no intention of ever being bound—as Caelor was then, as Zapharos is now. The great Praetor of War, once the fiercest of us, now stands at the Hall's center with his human Aelyth beside him, her pulse steady against his aura. He has balance now, yes. Even peace. But he is tethered. Softened. Weakened.
That will never be my fate. Not for any prophecy. Not for any bond whispered by the Luminis. Not for any female, not even my Aelyth. Let Zapharos drown in his softness. Let him clutch his human and call it strength. I know better. I stand whereshadows sharpen, where logic rules, where feelings do not cloud judgment.
Or so I believed…
The Hall of Seven hummed with starlight as Zapharos finished recounting what had befallen Nythor—our Oracle—now disgraced, captured by Cryons, traded like a bauble through hands unworthy to touch even our dust.
Impossible.
Unthinkable.
Unforgivable.
Mortals took one of us. Thyros' aura cracked like wildfire. Vaelion's fury rolled through the floor. Ozyrael's quiet curse split the air. Selkaris bowed to the human—Ella—not out of weakness, but out of sorrow for what one of our own had done to her.
Only I stayed silent.
My shadow peeled itself from the pillar, stretching across stone older than any sin. I stepped into the center of their outrage and asked the only question that mattered. "Where is he now?"
Zapharos met my gaze. "The Cryons have him."
The Hall stilled. We all knew what that meant. Mortals taking on one of us? It was unheard of. The consequences… it was unthinkable. As much as I hated our Oracle and wanted to end his too-long life, we could not let the Cryons keep him. I met Zapharos' eyes, and he didn't bother to hide what he wanted. "Bring him back to be punished."
"I will bring him back," he swore. Whole or not, I didn't promise.
I was about to leave, but Zapharos' next words kept me lingering. "The Cryons are already being driven to heel by the Pandraxian Empire. Their fleets took heavy losses. They will notbe our largest trouble. But the Cryons have allied themselves with the Moggadesh and the Ohrur. Something is afoot."
That was news to me. Something I needed to get ahead of. "I will get to the bottom of it."
"There is something else. The Darlams." Seemed Zapharos wasn't done yet delivering bad news. "The Ohrur have taken Darlam and are turning the males into so-called Space Guardians. Glorified assassins who work for them. They're also trying to breed them."
"If that is true, judgment will fall upon them," Thyros vowed. "And I will be the sword that comes down on them."
"The Ohrur will answer," Vaelion growled.
"They will," Zapharos agreed. "But first, we need Earth. He looked from one of us to the other. "Daryus will not share what he knows. Not freely. His mekarry bonds also lead there. He sees the planet as his."
Mekarry bonds were like our Aelyth Starmaps. If Emperor Daryus decided Earth was his, we would have a fight on our hands. I couldn't have cared less about finding our Aelyth, but I knew the others were already planning on reuniting with theirs. And since I've never wasted a good battle…
"We will open a diplomatic route," Ozyrael interrupted my thoughts. "You've done well, but this is the time for words and promises. I will go and handle it."
"Very well." Zapharos agreed, which surprised me. He wasn't one to relinquish ground once he stepped on it. Giving Ozyrael his blessing went against everything I knew about him. He smirked and kissed Ella's fingers. I shuddered. If this was what an Aelyth did to us, I wanted no part of it.
Again, I was about to finally take my leave, but this time, Selkaris held me back. "While you were gone, I searched the old archives to find more about Earth, hoping to discover whenand by whom it was seeded. I stumbled upon something… troublesome. A first mention of the swarm."
