As if my agreement was a foregone conclusion, he nodded and, after studying me for a long moment, inclined his head slightly. "I'll speak to the emperor."
That did not help. Before I could argue further, he moved. Not abruptly. Not threateningly. If anything, it looked like reluctance. His hand lifted, hesitated, then brushed my cheek. Just the lightest caress. Everything stopped. The world narrowed to the point of contact, to the warmth of his skin, to the way the air seemed tohumwhere he touched me. Electricity raced through me so fast it stole my breath, curling low and sharp and devastating, lighting nerves I didn't know I had.
I had experienced pleasure before. Alone. With others. Human pleasure. I wasn't a biologist, but I understood the mechanics of orgasms. They were neurochemical cascades, predictable and measurable. Stimulus-triggered nerve responses —responses that in turn triggered neurotransmitter release—dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins—muscles contractedin familiar patterns; this was so that the nervous system could resolve tension through repetition and release. A feedback loop. Powerful, yes. Intimate, yes. But contained. Finite.
I knew how they worked. This was not that. This was nothing like that. This was… a promise. Of something vast. Of connection without edges. Of gravity finally giving in and letting itself fall. My knees nearly buckled. He leaned in just enough that I could feel his breath, hear the restraint in it, and when he spoke, his voice was so soft it felt like it bypassed my ears entirely. "Aelyth."
The word slid into me like a key turning in a lock I hadn't known existed. My translator chip remained silent. Useless. Of course it was. Of course, everything short-circuited at once—technology, logic, body, mind. Wouldn't that just figure. And still… deep down, beneath the equations and the reflexive denial, a quieter part of me stirred. The part that didn't argue or analyze. The part I pretended didn't exist. It recognized the word. Not as language, not as sound, but as resonance. As something that slid past translation and settled directly into me, humming low and steady, like a note struck long ago that my body had been waiting to hear again.
I didn't understand it. But I felt it.
His hand fell away as if it cost him immensely to pull back.
"It won't be easy," he said quietly, "staying away from you. But I'll need you with me."
My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it in my throat.
"This was meant to be," he added.
The words finally penetrated the haze. Meant. To. Be.
Shock cut through the lingering electricity like ice water.
"What?" I whispered. Then louder, finding my footing again, rage and fear rushing in to save me from whatever that had been. "No. No fucking way."
His brows drew together. "Nadine?—"
"You're insane," I snapped. "You hear voices. You think you're a god. And you don't get todecidewhere I go or when or with whom."
I stepped back, then turned and ran without looking back. I didn't trust myself to. Behind me, his voice followed, not raised, not angry, just certain.
"You can run from me," he called. "But you can't run from destiny."
The corridor swallowed me whole, my pulse roared in my ears, and my skin still burned where he'd touched me.
Destiny.
God.
Aelyth.
I ran faster.
Because whatever that was?—
Whateverhewas?—
It was real.
And that terrified me more than the Dark Abyss ever could.
I had knownbefore this meeting. Not with certainty—certainty was a luxury I distrusted—but with the kind of instinct honed by eons of hunting lies that learned to recognize the shape of danger before it spoke its name.
The night before, I had encountered Nadine by accident. Or what mortals liked to call accidental. She'd been pacing the observation corridors, mind clearly unable to rest, orbiting questions she did not yet know how to ask. We had talked. Argued, really. She'd challenged me about the Abyss, about gods, about my certainty that itwantedsomething.
That was when I felt it. Not the Abyss itself, but its attention. A subtle pressure, like a distant tide shifting direction. The Dark Abyss had become aware of her proximity. Of her mind brushing against patterns it preferred to keep buried. Worse, it hadbecome aware ofmyreaction to her. Of the possibility I refused to name. It had noticed her as what I still refused to accept her as: Aelyth.
If she stayed here, she wasn't just in mortal danger. The things the Abyss could do to her were beyond human imagination. It would use her against me. And by the dark light, it might succeed. I hated admitting it, but I would move the stars to keep her safe. Strictly because I couldn't stand by and see an innocent—no matter how annoying—get hurt, of course. Not because she was my Aelyth. I didn't believe in destiny. But I believed in predators. And something ancient had begun to circle. Willing or not, she would have to come with me for her own safety.
