Pale orange eyes stared straight out of the projection, large and unblinking, the sclera threaded with faint red veins that made them look like they had already witnessed too many endings. Long, flowing hair cascaded past the square jawline, metallic strands caught the light like threads of liquid sunlight woven through silver.
It wore expensive-looking ceremonial robes that had to be heavy, deep crimson shot through with gold that shimmered as if it were alive. What looked to be sacred patterns glowed faintly across the fabric, fractals and spirals that hurt to look at directly. I could almost feel the weight of them, the ritual power stitched into every thread.
I felt the flaw inside my chest stir, hot and restless, and the old ache flared brighter than it had in centuries.
Whatever this species had been bred for, whatever secrets their sharp heads guarded, it was old. Older than most of the lies the universe told itself. During my long lifetime, from all the worlds I was forced to absorb, I had never even heard as much as a whisper about the creature. And from the stunned expression on my brothers’ faces, I assumed the same went for them. Something in those orange-veined eyes looked back at me like it already knew exactly what kind of weapon I was. I exhaled slowly through my teeth.
“Interesting,” I muttered. “Very interesting.”
“Do we know the species?” Dravok hadn’t blinked since entering the room.
Xandros shrugged. “Nothing in the logbooks, nothing in the old Imperial bestiaries. Not even a story or sketch from the Rim. I was hoping you might know.”
“What language do they speak?”
Ashley shook her head. “No language any of our translators picks up."
"You said there were others?" I prodded, feeling the pull become nearly irresistible now.
Xandros paused, then nodded. “That’s the other thing. There were fourhumanson board.” He flicked up the next image. The way he made the wordhumanssound made me think he wasn't fully convinced that they were.
He showed us three cells, each filled with a human male, before the universe around me stopped spinning. The flaw in my chest went from a dull pain to a sharp, living wound. The female was exactly as she had always been in my dreams. It wasn’t in her looks, because they had always differed; it was in the way she held herself, the way something emanated from her, that made my aura flicker. Her thick dark hair was pulled back into a practical braid, loose strands framing a face that belonged on temple walls and battlefield banners alike. Defined cheekbones, a strong jawline that spoke of stubborn will and harder training. Her eyes—intense, sharp, missing nothing—swept the room with the quiet calculation of someone who had learned early that the universe rewarded the observant and punished the careless.
She wore simple black pants and a fitted black shirt, the kind of functional clothing that screamed readiness. Holsters rode low on her hips, empty now, but clearly well-used. The faint outline of reinforced gear and concealed blades told me she had been heavily armed until very recently. A warrior’s practicality layered over something far older.
Her body moved with athletic grace, every step controlled, every turn precise. Athletic, yes—trained well, I could already tell—but there were curves beneath the functional layers that she clearly hated. The way she shifted her shoulders, the subtle tension in her posture, said she viewed them as aninconvenience rather than an asset. I found them… distracting in a way that had nothing to do with weakness and everything to do with the heat flaring behind my ribs.
A faint scar traced just beneath her right eye. In the dreams, none of the visions of her had ever borne a mark. During the most recent vision, she had worn flowing golden dresses that shimmered like captured starlight, her hair had been loose and wild, and every line of her had radiated the kind of effortless harmony that made temples fall silent. Here, now, she looked like a goddess trying very hard to pretend she was only a soldier.
Space itself seemed to bend slightly around her as she paced, subtle, almost imperceptible, noticeable only in the way the light refracted a fraction differently near her shoulders, the air grew heavier with quiet promise. She did not notice it. I did. The flaw inside me surged forward like a starving thing finally given a name.
Her.
For one heartbeat, the universe forgot how to breathe. Recognition slammed into me. My hands flexed at my sides. The executioner’s calm I had worn for eons cracked like thin ice.Shewas here. Real.
Not a vision. Not a dream.
Whatever secrets her bloodline carried, whatever temple or order had trained her in the dark, none of it mattered. Because she was mine. Before I could stop myself, I stepped forward. The others noticed, but I didn't care.
Zapharos stared at her like a puzzle he needed to solve. “She looks human.”
“Genetically, yes.” Xandros agreed. “We've tested her and the others’ DNA."
His hesitancy caught my attention despite the urge inside me to tear this ship apart and find her, hold her in my arms. I had noidea where that came from. But it was there. Strong enough that I had to acknowledge and admit to it.
"What are you not telling us?" Nadine, observant as always, prodded.
"She speaks the same indecipherable language as the other species. She responded curiously towards Ashley?—"
Ashley interrupted Xandros. "She talked to me like I was supposed to understand her language. When I didn't, she looked at me like… an aberration." Ashley shook her head.
The meeting had thrown her off guard, and, from all that I’d heard about her, that was no easy feat.
"Interesting." Nadine nodded like she was already forming a theory.
The image changed back, rotating through the three human males, all dressed the same way as the unknown female. It took every ounce of self-control in me not to scream at Xandros to turn the holovid back toher.
Fortunately, before I made a fool out of myself, Ashley turned the holovid back to the female, but not because of me; she was watching Ella. “You recognize her?”
