The Fracture Shows

The tension was suffocating. The stolen ship rattled under the strain of its engines, cutting through dead skies, but inside—inside it was worse than any battlefield.

Mae sat, still cuffed, back against the cold wall, watching them argue over her like wolves circling fresh meat.

Her heart thudded hard enough to bruise. Her wrists burned from the cuffs. Her skin itched—hot, electric—like the air itself didn’t know whether to suffocate her or ignite.

“Breathe,” she told herself. “Just... breathe.”

“This is insane,” Kaine snapped, pacing again. His cybernetic joints hissed with every sharp turn. “We should’ve left her in the rubble. She’s dead weight. Worse—she’s a heat beacon. Every bounty hunter in the sky is sniffing us out because of her.”

Sethis spun lazily in his seat, grinning. “And yet... here we are.”

Riven’s plasma wings flared in agitation. “Enough. You’ve said this.”

“I’ll keep saying it!” Kaine roared, his red eyes flashing. His gaze snapped back to Mae. “She’s weak. Look at her. Cuffed, shaking, breakable. What the hell are we risking all this for?”

Mae’s jaw clenched. She wasn’t going to sit here and be picked apart like she wasn’t in the room.

“Say that again, scrap heap,” she hissed, fire sparking behind the fear. “Say it. Say it to my face instead of whining to the walls.”

The room snapped silent.

Sethis’s eyes widened, then gleamed with vicious amusement. “Ooh... wrong move, sweetheart.”

Kaine stiffened. Turned.

“You little—”

Two steps. That’s all it took. His heavy boots hit the floor like thunder. His hand shot out—wrapped around her throat—and slammed her back against the wall.

Mae choked, her breath crushed out, feet barely scraping the floor. Her hands flew to his wrist, tugging, useless against the brute strength pinning her.

“You’ve got a mouth on you for trash,” Kaine snarled. “Maybe I ought to break it—”

Then—

It hit.

A pulse. Not visible. Not sound. A ripple.

Like reality itself twisted.

Kaine jolted—the grip on her throat faltering—not from mercy but from something else. His cybernetic arm twitched violently, sparks shooting from the joints. His pupils dilated, confusion flashing through fury.

“Wha—what the—?”

Her cuffs lit. A glow—not mechanical. Not technological. Something deeper. Older. They sparked, hissed—then went dead for a heartbeat.

The lights in the room flickered.

Lucien hissed, recoiling, chains snapping back as if burned.

Riven flinched, one wing flaring protectively.

Even Sethis sat bolt upright, grin fading, tension slicing his posture like wire. “...The hell was that?”

Only one didn’t move.

Ashar.

Still. Silent. Watching.

Golden eyes locked—not on Kaine. Not on the others. On Mae.

Kaine’s grip trembled. He snarled, tightening reflexively—then jerked his hand back as though something bit him. He stumbled a step.

“What... the hell...” His voice wasn’t rage now. It was confusion. Fear.

“What did you just do?”

Mae gasped, stumbling, hands flying to her throat. Her skin burned where his fingers had been—like the memory of his grip was branded deeper than flesh.

Her heart raced so fast she thought it would explode.

But worse—worse than the bruises—was the void she felt in that split second.

A... wrongness.

A pulse from her.

“No... no, no, no—what was that? What was that—”

Tears prickled the edges of her eyes—not from weakness. Not from the choking. But from pure, raw terror.

Even she feared herself.

Lucien stepped back further, psychic chains curling tight like defensive serpents. “That... wasn’t tech,” he murmured. “That wasn’t anything known…..She fractured the field...” His voice was barely audible, like thought instead of sound. “No amplification... no catalyst. Raw.”

“It came from her.”

Sethis’s grin did not return. He blinked, scanning her with sudden seriousness. His fingers twitched over his data pad, trying to read, but the screen glitched—static, error codes, scrambled glyphs.

“No way. No—way.”

Riven’s expression twisted—not angry. Not scared. Calculating. “Is that... what the Council was hiding?”

“What did you do?” Kaine demanded, voice cracking. “What the hell was that?!”

Mae shook her head violently, backing into the wall, breath hitched and ragged. “I—I don’t know! I don’t know!” Her voice broke. “I didn’t—! I didn’t do anything—!”

She wanted to sound strong. She wanted to spit in his face, to snarl, to fight.

But her own body betrayed her.

She was just as scared of herself as they were. The silence after was suffocating. No one moved. No one spoke. Not Kaine, the same one who was ready to hurt her. Not even Ashar. 

No—he didn’t speak either. He sat exactly as before—elbows on his knees, claws laced loosely together, golden eyes burning into hers like a forge. Ashar didn't have much to say, he couldn't. He just sat there.

Watching her. Measuring her every breath. Silent.

Waiting.

Like he already knew the answers. Like he wasn’t surprised at all.