Chapter 2

Third-person POV

Vaelor Thalor stood alone in the upper spire of the citadel, the only place where the Aether hum felt almost tolerable.

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The chamber was small, windowless except for a single vertical slit that framed the dying aurora. Before him hovered three crystalline orbs ,reports from the deep nexus monitors. No one else was permitted to see them. Not the council. Not his brothers. Certainly not the public.

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He extended a hand. The orbs pulsed and unfolded into holographic webs of crimson and violet. Numbers scrolled in Thaloric script: core resonance down 0.7% in the last cycle. Energy bleed is accelerating. Micro-fractures are spreading along the primary lattice like rot in old bone. The decay was no longer theoretical. It was measurable. Inevitable. Unless—

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He cut the thought before it could finish.

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His father had decided the humans were worth the risk. Three fragile specimens from a backwater world that still poisoned its own atmosphere. Vaelor had argued against it in a private audience. Humans were vermin in velvet. No dignity. No restraint. Weak bodies housing minds that festered with greed and betrayal. He had studied their history through the Concord archives—wars over dirt, slavery over skin tone, entire continents burned for profit. Evil was not an aberration in them; it was foundational. To allow them near the core was to invite corruption into the planet’s beating heart.

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And yet the Sovereign had spoken with calm finality. “We are dying, my son. Pride will not heal what is broken.”

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So Vaelor had bowed. Reluctantly. And accepted the duty of oversight.

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Now the delegation was here.

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He closed the reports with a flick of telekinesis. The orbs dimmed and sank into the floor. He adjusted the segmented plates of his armor, black crystal fused to obsidian scales, and descended the spiral stair to the throne hall.

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The moment he entered, the air shifted.

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The three humans stood in a loose line before the Sovereign’s dais, dwarfed by the vaulted space. His father sat motionless, regal, giving them the barest nod of welcome. Vaelor took position at the Sovereign’s right shoulder, taller even than the king by half a head. Eight feet and change. A tribrid anomaly. Nocthrim horns swept back like blackened scythes. Vyrkath's scales shimmered faintly along his forearms and throat. Kragvorn bulk made his shoulders and chest seem carved from mountain stone. He knew how he looked to outsiders: a nightmare given form.

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The humans reacted predictably. The woman Kade stiffened, eyes widening. The man Thorne, swallowed hard and looked away. And the third…

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The slender one.

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Vaelor’s gaze locked on him without permission.

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Long ash-blond hair tied loosely at the nape. Pale skin flushed at the cheeks. Soft mouth. Large hazel eyes rimmed red, lashes damp, as though he had wept recently and tried to hide it. The human’s shoulders were hunched just enough to betray exhaustion, grief, something raw. Vaelor’s telepathic senses brushed against him instinctively sadness rolled off the man in slow, heavy waves, tinged with salt and shame. No artifice. No armor. Just naked hurt.

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Something inside Vaelor twisted.

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His horns tingled. Sharp, electric recognition. Aether stirred in his blood, uncoiling like a waking beast. Heat surged low in his gut. Beneath the armor plating, his appendage thickened, pressing painfully against the inner lining. He clenched his jaw so hard the muscles jumped.

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No.

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He crushed the reaction with brutal force. Telepathic walls slammed down. The swelling ebbed, but the echo of it lingered, humiliating. He had never felt this before, not for any concubine, not for any warrior of his own kind. Certainly not for a human. Weak. Corrupt. Disgusting.

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Except this one did not look disgusting.

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He looked… fragile. Breakable. Different.

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Vaelor forced his eyes away. The Sovereign was speaking, voice resonant.

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“Prince Vaelor will escort you to your assigned laboratories and living quarters. He speaks for me in all matters concerning your work. You will afford him the same respect you have shown me.”

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The humans murmured assent. Vaelor stepped forward without a word. No introduction. No name offered. They did not need to know it yet.

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He led them out of the hall, down the main artery corridor. Crystal walls refracted aurora light into soft prisms. The air sang faintly, distant forests answering each other. He kept his pace measured, forcing the humans to hurry to match it. Behind him, he could feel the slender one’s gaze. Curious. Wary. Still red-rimmed.

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He hated that he noticed.

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They passed galleries of living mural scenes of ancient clan wars replaying in slow motion. The humans whispered among themselves. Kade pointed at a depiction of a Vyrkath reaver drowning an enemy fleet. Thorne asked something technical about the crystal lattice. The slender one, Voss, the Sovereign had called him, remained silent. Just watched. Eyes wide, lips parted slightly.

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Vaelor’s peripheral vision kept dragging back to him.

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The red flush on Voss’s cheeks had deepened. Swollen lips. The faint tremble in his fingers when he brushed hair from his face. Something had hurt him badly. Recently. Vaelor’s mind flashed to the brief telepathic brush of grief, betrayal, and loneliness sharp enough to cut. He should have felt contempt. Instead, he felt… anger. At whatever had caused that look. At himself for caring enough to notice.

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He clenched his fists until the Kragvorn plating creaked.

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They reached the research wing. A wide circular chamber opened before them , banks of Aether consoles glowing softly, crystal sample vaults humming with contained energy, observation decks overlooking the singing forest below. The lab was pristine. Too pristine. It had been prepared for beings far more advanced than these three.

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Vaelor stopped at the central dais. Turned.

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“This is your domain,” he said, voice low, accented but precise. “You will not leave it without my express permission. You will not touch anything marked restricted. You will report daily progress to me personally.” He paused, letting the weight settle. “And you will not ask questions I do not invite.”

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Thorne nodded quickly. Kade squared her shoulders. Voss simply looked up at him with those hazel eyes, steady despite the redness, despite everything.

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For one heartbeat, their gazes locked.

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Vaelor felt the Aether coil again. Hot. Insistent. His horns burned.

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He tore his eyes away and gestured sharply toward the adjoining corridor.

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“Your quarters are this way.”

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He walked ahead, faster now, trying to outpace the thing clawing at the inside of his chest. Behind him, soft footsteps followed. One set is lighter than the others.

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Voss.

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Vaelor did not look back.

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He could not afford to.

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