Xen'tarza
Chapter Five

Secrets of the Past

I

Unforeseen Bond

Myris returned to the humyn capital world, bringing Xeza with her. Thrilled about the once-in-a-lifetime festival known as Star’s Eve, she made her way south of Iyonji Palace in the central continent of Xu’jato. There, she joined the staff and saw numerous people with extravagant makeup on their arms and faces, dressed in circus-like attire. Most of them were decorating the field with exotic flowers and plants.

“So cool,” she muttered to her tiny companion, observing a giant wheel ride suspended in the air with radiant spokes.

The oracle accelerated to get on an attendance line. After being assigned a tent, she made her way past the vestibule. Entering the verdant park, she saw other rides such as a rollercoaster whose tracks reached the firmament, an enclosed circuit for hovering bumper cars, a battleship consisting of virtual reality space combat, and a haunted mansion.

A warm feeling ignited within her. She couldn’t help but smile at the attractions. Star’s Eve was a beloved holiday to her because it entailed a festival within an amusement park, which were two of her favorite pastimes. Fun activities aside, the holiday was sacred to her since it was tied to divination; Star’s Eve began when the first oracle of Pravura had predicted the birth of a protostar after a sun died. Since then, it had always symbolized the rebirth of stars.

Passing the rides, she reached a section of the park filled with pavilions. The largest one had a multitude of arcade games for children and teenagers. Xeza noticed the kids and produced a soft urp while Myris looked around. Spotting her smaller-than-expected tent, she pouted at the disappointing size and hovered toward it.

“Dang it.”

Determined to make the most of it, Myris went inside and ported all of her divination decor: dark yet vibrant drapes, soothing incense, books concerning the arcane, sparkling crystals suspended a few feet above her festooned table, and a beaded curtain decorating the entryway of her tent.

Just an hour before the event, she finished setting everything up. Attired in a purple robe, she lifted herself from the hovering wheelchair and switched to a normal seat. The oracle smiled at the sìsô, petting it. She then fixed her eyes on the entrance, anxiously waiting for guests to enter her tent.

After several minutes, a romantic couple spread the doorway beads apart and entered the aromatic tent. Myris beamed, welcoming them. They smiled back, observing the ancient trinkets and mystical doodads inside the tent. While the young man appeared to lose interest quickly, his lover approached the oracle.

“I noticed your sign outside,” she said. “Is it true? You give readings and can foretell our future as far as ten cycles?”

“Yup. But nothing’s guaranteed. And if I sense something bad, I have the right to keep it to myself.”

“Oh...”

“It’s for your own protection.”

The young man chortled, glancing at her wheelchair. “Our protection? You’re a disabled teen and we need to be protected? Come on, Le’sashee. She’s obviously a fake. It’s not worth the reons.”

Although the woman seemed to pity Myris, she left with her lover. Eyes downcast, the oracle fell into a dreary mood. This event was supposed to be a tranquil getaway vacation from her chaotic voyages aboard the Marauder. Yet, with each passing moment, she missed her comrades. She pondered, Are they truly my comrades? Or do they pity me too?

Before she could drift into a deeper melancholy state, her tent’s doorway beads spread apart again. A hooded figure peered inside and entered the tent. Myris flinched, startled to see someone else come so soon. Xeza repeatedly urped with excitement. The person attired in a robe ignored them both, examining the numerous decorations, trinkets, and books. Eventually, the visitor grabbed a compendium regarding divination.

“Can I help you?”

Gazing up, the stranger’s red eyes fixated on the oracle. “I must admit,” she began, taking off her shawl while preventing her wings from expanding so as not to damage anything in the tent, “I’m rather fond of your people.”

The oracle gawked at her, stunned. “Eladoris? What are you doing here?”

“Mere curiosity. Humyns amuse me. They embrace magic. Even the dark arts are honored and respected here. For that, this species deserves to set their eyes upon me. My former king and his people shun every aspect of the arcane. Never will I return to those wretched traitors.”

“The jorga?”

Primeval tome in hand, she gave a subtle nod. “Tell me...what is this festivity you’re so adamant about being a part of?”

“Star’s Eve. It’s a celebration of life.”

The necromancer snorted.

“I heard that,” the oracle said sharply. “You’re not undead anymore, missy. If anything, with that awesome body of yours, you’ve been reborn. Coming here is the perfect opportunity for you to rediscover what it means to be alive.”

“This body is nothing more than a temporary vessel. Whether or not this body carries life, I am the embodiment of death incarnate. I have conquered it. Corpses rise in my name. Ghouls and fiends alike do battle upon my command. Accursed spirits defend my soul. Soon, even demons from another dimension shall obey me.”

“Uh huh, serious talk mode. Necromancy and demonology are two completely different spectrums. But who am I to pontificate? Only you know your own boundaries.”

“Apparently you know yours too or I’d have already turned you into a mindless ghoul.”

Myris couldn’t help but laugh. “Hogwash! Total poppycock! Well, I’m just gonna blame that on you spending way too much time with that pompous AI. Now why don’t you take a chill pill, stand back, and witness the Magical Wonders of Myris Sye Eianvok.”

II

Dubious Negotiations

Equipped with spacesuits, Shirakaya, Yarasuro, and Xorvaj descended a metal platform on the side of an asteroid that was none other than Qyon’tog. Due to lack of gravity, the trio made their way down at a slow pace. Reaching the fourth level below, they entered a tunnel teeming with glossy gems embedded along serrated walls. The artificially lit passage led them to a fork containing other paths.

“I take it we’re ignoring the mining facility?” Yarasuro asked.

“That’s the idea,” the ghensoth said.

Xorvaj approached a pathway on the left with a digital sign above an arched entryway that read: Fajh’raka Market. Walking on, they found themselves proceeding along a winding trail with numerous holes revealing the outer void. While the trio advanced, a faction of ghensoths galloped past them. The thunderous galumph of their quadrupedal thumps shook the passage. Shirakaya glanced at them, startled.

“Friends of yours?”

The ghensoth scowled. “Don’t mock me, freelancer. Those are worthless scavengers. They have lost their way.”

“And you haven’t?” Yarasuro said.

“Not yet. I can still feel the unbreakable metals of Zieksar. Even after all these decades, I smell my fallen world’s polluted quashia and taste its diluted jamna. No matter where I roam, whether fighting for you or another, I am Urvantak.”

“That is good to hear,” the mutant knight said. “Never lose your way.”

Exiting the tunnel, they found themselves on the asteroid’s surface. Descending another platform leading to a region blanketed with craters, the trio approached a bazaar. Stalls filled with black-market weapons, armor, and other miscellaneous technology flooded the market district. Shirakaya gazed upon dozens of vendors and hundreds of potential buyers, beginning to feel disheartened.

“So this is the true face of Qyon’tog,” she said with a sigh, taking in the scene. “Scumbag haven, huh?”

“And yet you’re here,” Xorvaj retorted.

“Please mind your words.”

The freelancer chuckled. “It’s okay, Yaro. He’s got a point.”

“Well,” the ghensoth began, “the amulet isn’t going to sell itself. Shall we get down to business?”

“Lead the way,” Shirakaya said.

Xorvaj guided them through a crowd of traders. While they jostled past them, Shirakaya spotted a few items for sale that piqued her interest. She focused in particular on upgrades for starships such as black hole modules, over-clocked engines, cannons fused with magic, and miscellaneous units that could potentially strengthen force fields or prolong fuel.

Despite how tempting it was for Shirakaya to purchase as many upgrades as possible for her battleship, she thought about the cost of Myris’ potential surgery and controlled herself. She shook her head, continuing to follow the ghensoth. A few kilometers ahead, she spotted an eight-wheel tank whose paint job consisted of black with charcoal rims.

“Wait,” she said to her comrades. Approaching the vehicle, Shirakaya touched it with a look of awe. “How much?”

“Ninety-five thousand reons,” the sca’vezi trader said.

“That’s absurd,” she glowered. “It doesn’t even have a cosmodrive. I’ll pay thirty thousand for it.”

Revealing a deranged scowl, the sca’vezi peered at her. “Specifications make ninety-five thousand. Force field, yelium-4 thrusters, eight-wheel drive, tetrigonium hull resistant to severe temperatures, gamma cannon, thermal-ray turrets, and ZiFi troposphere radar. It is solid tank. No less than ninety!”

Taking a closer look at the vehicle, Shirakaya confirmed its specifications.

“Forty thousand reons,” she said, revealing her KLD’s debit screen.

The sca’vezi focused on her available funds, rubbing its cone-shaped head. “You first trader in solar cycle to have that many reons. You have deal, humyn.”

“Excellent,” she said, clicking her kinetic link device a few times until initiating a balance transfer with the vendor. “Vokken, port the ZX-9000 tank I just purchased into Marauder’s cargo bay.”

Without responding, the arcane intelligence locked onto the craft using its serial number on the digital contract found in the freelancer’s KLD. Before long, Vokken dematerialized the combat-ready vehicle. As commanded, he then transported it into the cargo bay of Shirakaya’s battleship.

“Enjoy!” the sca’vezi said ecstatically.

Shirakaya nodded, moving forward with her companions. The mutant didn’t show much enthusiasm about the purchase, but the ghensoth appeared impressed. Passing a few more stalls, the freelancer realized there were fewer weapons for sale. Coming across a great many artifacts for sale, she fixed her gaze on expensive ornaments and jewelry.

“Here,” the ghensoth said, halting near an engrossed vendor.

The freelancer examined the merchant’s items. At first, she wondered if the peddler was selling worthless junk. Upon further observation, she realized one of his rings had a subtle glow. She reached for the sparkling accessory but stopped short before touching it, hesitating. Simply being near it filled her mind with a warm feeling of hope.

“Why do I feel at ease when I shouldn’t?” Yarasuro asked.

“Because you’re weak,” Xorvaj answered.

“It’s...so calming,” Shirakaya said. “My anguish. My resentment. My fears. It’s as if this ring washed it all away.”

“Temporarily,” the ghensoth added.

Shirakaya gave a brief nod. “Yes, I imagine so. I’m already starting to think of that stupid idiot who’s so gung-ho about getting himself killed. I suppose I’d have to wear this to truly be at peace.” She managed to step away from the enchanted accessory. “Despite the beautiful feeling it gives me, I know it’s just an illusion. Such a ring would ultimately destroy me and our mission.”

“True,” the mutant responded in a reflective tone.

“You’re even more strong-willed than I thought,” Xorvaj said. “That is, except for you concerning yourself with the only humyn who’s capable of killing me.”

“I hate him and yet I can’t help it,” Shirakaya said, troubled. “Never thought I’d think twice about such a scumbag after putting him in the brig. But here I am, worrying about his wellbeing.”

“Pathetic and pointless. Like me, he was a creature bred for—”

“Xorvaj?” the ghensoth vendor called out, his voice coarse. “No. It cannot be. He died over one cycle ago while trying to reforge Urvantak.”

The former terrorist smiled manically. “It is I, O’dekras. Those who were against me are now mine to command.” He nudged Shirakaya before she could speak the truth. “All we need is Saliek’s blessing...and an armada of battleships.”

Mouth agape, the vendor gazed at Xorvaj’s amulet. “How much?”

“Half a million.”

O’dekras grumbled. “Does it have an enchantment?”

“Considering it belonged to the praetor of Star City, I’d say yes. But such secrets remain unknown to me. That would be for you to discover.”

“Hmmm...a gamble,” he said, snorting. “Two hundred thousand.”

Xorvaj scowled. “Urvantak’s sake, half a million. It is the only way to restore Zieksar and reclaim our dignity.”

“I am no warrior,” O’dekras snarled. “I accepted our fall decades ago. Two hundred.”

Gritting his fangs, the ghensoth mercenary pulled the shimmering necklace away. “Four hundred thousand.”

“One hundred.”

The mercenary grabbed him, ready to claw his face off. “Four hundred thousand! Nothing less!”

“Kill me and you die,” the vendor said as patrol drones approached.

“Don’t do it,” Yarasuro said. “We’ll all end up in prison.”

Shirakaya pressed against his powerful arms, struggling to lower them. “Not everything needs to be solved with brute force.” She focused on the vendor while Xorvaj brought him back down to the ground. “I’ll reveal its charm.” Pausing for a moment to see if her words piqued his interest, she added, “Its enchantment is submission. Everyone who is close to it surrenders their will.”

“Even if that were true, I’m no longer inter—”

“Mine!” shouted a sca’vezi in hysteria. “Mine! Mine!” Leaping over a stall, the sca’vezi reached for the amulet. “Mine!”

One of the patrol drones scanned both mercenaries. “Reveal your sales permit.”

“What?” Shirakaya said with a hint of laughter. “This is a black market where everyone sells illegal merchandise and you care about a sales permit?”

“Any further attempt to resist shall result in aggression.”

The freelancer gestured at her comrade to conceal the amulet. “Understood. No need to threaten us. We’re leaving.”

As soon as they turned to leave, the drones hovered away.

“What a complete waste of time,” Shirakaya said, letting out a heavy sigh. Not a few seconds after stepping away from the scene, she felt a tug. “Huh?”

“Underground,” the sca’vezi muttered. “Sector V-57X. Thirty-four hundred hours.”

Yarasuro watched him scuttle off, perplexed. “What was that about?”

“We might be able to make a sale after all,” Xorvaj said, unintentionally patting the freelancer on the back so hard it caused her to cough. “That is a zone in the mining facility. I have heard rumors that insidious deals take place there. Usually slave trade.”

“Despicable,” the mutant said.

“Whatever. I’m done policing random people. I don’t want to know anything about that. Just get me down there so we can sell this damn amulet.”

III

Unresolved Mysteries

Wide-eyed, Xeza sat atop a table in the tent while she and a group of people watched Myris perform a reading on an alien known as a fhen’da-re whose undernourished body revealed natural markings that resembled tattoos. The alien’s multihued eyes shone like rainbows trapped in gemstones. He gazed at her in awe, an expression of hope on his face. Rolling the patron’s sleeve up, she traced a couple of fingers along the outlines of an armband-shaped birthmark that started on his wrist and ended at his pale-red bicep. Midway up the native mark, she closed her eyes and smiled.

“What do you see?” he asked anxiously.

The oracle didn’t respond until she finished tracing it. “Not every fhen’da-re is able to replace their kindred lover. But it’s really important for you.”

“Yes...”

Faint gasps and whispers could be heard as the oracle continued, “You’re very, very lonely. All your friends have moved on. Your family too. It is critical for the fhen’da-re to replace a kindred lover. Yet you haven’t been blessed. At least until now. I sense her.”

“What? You do? Where is she? Who is she?”

“The question is: What is she?” Myris posed. “She is not a fhen’da-re.” Her words made him flinch. “Your people are against mating with another species. Though, if you truly desire to be loved—genuine love—then you’ll replace a kindred spirit far from your homeworld. Open your mind. Reveal your heart without discrimination. If you follow this, you will discover a beautiful love not many experience in the universe.”

“But where is she?”

Myris opened her eyes. “There is only so much the signs can reveal. She’s out there. Not home on planet Astao. But she is waiting for someone like you. Keep exploring other worlds like Pravura. You will replace her.”

“I see,” he muttered, taking in her words. After a moment, he lit up. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

Spectators clapped while a couple of women gave a resounding Awww. Xeza let out an excited, long-winded urp. Standing some distance away, Eladoris raised an eyebrow. The fhen’da-re gave Myris a tip of two hundred reons and rose to leave. The young oracle bowed her head and accepted the gift, beaming at him. As soon as he left, a couple put down fifty reons. Myris gestured for them to be seated.

“What can I do for such a lovely couple?”

The woman anxiously responded, “Can you tell me the worst and best thing that will happen to us?”

At first, Myris tilted her head with an expression of slight skepticism. Realizing she had a crowd to please, she waved a hand over her dalikonium orb that hovered in response. Eyes widened as patrons whispered among one another. Mist formed beneath their feet. Candles floated around the table. Silence descended when the orb glowed.

Despite such astonishing occurrences, Myris didn’t receive a vision or witness anything within the magical sphere. Pulling out a dozen divination runes, she tossed them in the air. They remained suspended, surrounding the orb. As their dark etchings illuminated, Myris closed her eyes. She inhaled and exhaled heavily before reopening them.

“Your love is wondrous,” Myris said, making the couple smile. “It is pure. Neither of you have ever betrayed each other.”

Again, a few women sounded Awww in unison.

“But what’s the worst to come?” the man asked.

Myris tightened up. Looking deeper into the hovering sphere—runes heightening her senses—she channeled her divination and communed with a vision that made her paralyzed body shiver: A bearded, middle-aged man attired in a suit adorned with military medals approached a kilometer away from the tent. Every customer from the tent lay dead around him. Narrowing his eyes on a sign above that read The Magical Wonders of Myris Sye Eianvok, he advanced.

“Run!” she cried out, spooking Xeza as well as her audience. “Run! We’re all gonna die if we don’t leave! Save yourselves!” Many of the patrons shrieked, all of them obeying her as she sized her wheelchair. “Elly! Help me!”

“What is this nonsense?”

“They found me...they found me,” she said, lips quivering. “How? Another oracle? No. I was their only freak. It’s not possible.”

“Explain or I will leave you to whatever pathetic drama you’re jabbering about.”

“No time,” she said, climbing into her wheelchair and grabbing the little sìsô. “You must get us out of here,” she added, collecting her runes and orb. “Please!”

The trio heard horrific screams from outside. Sounds of firearms were within earshot, causing Myris to flinch and hover backwards. Eladoris couldn’t help but reveal a maniacal grin as she heard what sounded like people being harmed. Waving her hands, the necromancer blew the tent away.

Corpses of patrons lay before her, pieces of a roller coaster blanketing the ground. Fire roared, engulfing several tents in the vicinity. A group of white-suited militants approached the duo, surrounding them. The young oracle hovered beside Eladoris, refusing to look directly at the attackers.

“Greetings, Princess Eianvok,” said the coarse-skinned man from Myris’ vision. “It’s rather impressive that you managed to hide for this long. Even after paralysis, you somehow managed to evade us. But the running stops now.”

“I stopped four cycles ago and started a new life here in Copia Deiga. Sorry to break it to you, Command-Minister Iska, but I’m protected by the Tal’manac Order,” she said, lying. “My father, the last true Prime King of Benetar Lojaria, didn’t die in vain. So, tell your crazed prince and his zealots to forget me or else the wrath of the Ruzurai will rain down on Zesga’De Xanam.”

“I’m afraid twelve primitive cultists aren’t going to change anything. Science will always prevail over magic. It is only a matter of time before we take control of Copia Deiga and put an end to freaks like you.”

Furrowing her brow at his comment, Eladoris stepped forward. “You remind me of a pompous king whose holier-than-thou kingdom became cursed. It’s better to flee now before I kill all of you and add your corpses to my undead army.”

“Elly?” the oracle said, startled.

Without wasting further time, one of them threw a grenade. It exploded a few centimeters away from Eladoris, her mana shield absorbing it. Expressionless, the necromancer conjured scrambling bolts of lightning that penetrated the force fields of three zealots, electrocuting them. They were knocked off their feet in an instant and lay dead on the ground.

“Kill that witch!” shouted Command-Minister Iska.

The other seventeen zealots fired a mixture of incendiary rounds and fusion beams. Eladoris rose into the air to avoid the salvo and used telekinesis to slam a soldier against a ruptured roller coaster rail, breaking almost every one of his bones. Then, using the current around her, she conjured a tempest that cut through the skin of a man who was about to shoot her.

Flying in the air, Eladoris summoned an enchanted battleaxe and swooped down, striking a zealot’s torso. After he had been split in half, she ascended and hurled a fireball at a soldier who disintegrated. Avoiding a bombardment of lasers, the necromancer raised the dead around her. As several corpses rose once more to do her bidding, she threw her axe at a cringing zealot’s chest.

With the exception of Command-Minister Iska, the remaining benetarians attacked their undead comrades. Rifle in both hands, Iska aimed at the witch and fired a devastating thermal beam. For the first time, her mana shield dissolved. Descending toward the remaining soldiers, Eladoris conjured a barrage of icicles that jabbed at the scrambling zealots. As they attempted to take cover, the witch grabbed Myris and flew toward the heavens.

“Stop running and kill that evil bitch!”

Wings gliding, Eladoris flew past a multitude of police vehicles that advanced toward them over the enflamed fair. The oracle glanced down at the ruined festival, breathing heavily. Holding the distressed sìsô with one arm while clinging on to Eladoris with the other, Myris checked her body to see if she had any wounds since she couldn’t feel her lower half. Not noticing any injuries, she calmed down a bit—at least until she spotted a battleship approaching them.

“Watch out!”

Eladoris glimpsed the ship’s cannons from the corner of her eye and narrowly dodged a barrage of plasma torpedoes. Flapping her blackish wings madly, she dived down headfirst, focusing on the command bridge with a deathly gaze. Several soldiers aboard gasped at the sight of her, seeing something that could only be described to them as a devil.

Reaching the interstellar craft, she roared like a banshee while unleashing a steady bolt of lightning. It was so powerful, it disrupted the vessel’s barrier and weaponry. The zealots aboard screamed in hysteria. Without showing any remorse, Eladoris used arcane kinesis with all her might. Denting and collapsing inward, the ship’s hull crushed every soldier inside. Once the vessel exploded, Eladoris extended her wings and flew skyward.

The oracle closed her eyes, still sensing the revolting presence of Command-Minister Iska as well as a few of his wounded soldiers. She saw them through her unseen eye; they were stranded at the abandoned fair, gazing at the flying witch with rage. Distancing herself from them, her vision blurred and faded.

“Princess Eianvok?”

Myris shook her head. “I gave up that title and life a long time ago. I’m just an oracle trying my best to start over. You mustn’t tell Shira or the others. Promise me!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” Vokken said, eavesdropping.

The oracle sighed. “This is turning out to be a horrible day. I didn’t want anyone knowing about my miserable past.”

“What’s done is done,” Eladoris said.

“Correct,” the AI responded. “More importantly, I need the two of you out of there before Iska replaces you again. This means contacting Shirakaya and informing her that you’re in trouble. And you don’t need me to inform you that next time he’ll have a legion of benetarians to kidnap you. Not even the glorious Eladoris can take down that many soldiers.”

“Do not doubt my power.”

“Arrogance can be destructive, my dear. Believe you me, it was my worst enemy when I fought against the fleshling leader, Shirakaya of Aarda.”

The witch remained quiet, respecting his advice.

“Despite my gift of divination, for the life of me, I can’t sense why you helped me,” the oracle said. “Why?”

“It wasn’t pity or goodness, if that is what you’re thinking. That lousy cur reminded me of a pathetic scoundrel of a king who ended up betraying himself, his people, and me out of sheer ignorance.”

“Sounds like he let fear control him,” Myris said.

Eladoris gave a nod. “Why hide your nobility?” she asked, flying farther away. “Why hide who you truly are?”

Clutched in Eladoris’ arms while looking down at the planetary city, the oracle replied, “I didn’t want people treating me differently. Also…I’m ashamed of my past. I refused an arranged marriage my parents established for me to keep peace between Lojaria and Benetar—my home world. By denying the prince, I betrayed Lojaria. For this, my mother and father were murdered because they both respected my wishes.”

“That, my dear child, is true evil,” the witch said.

“Of course, and the asshole prince who thinks he’s a king still wants to marry me. But in truth, I’d just be his slave.”

“Shadow Mercs must know the truth,” Vokken said.

The oracle’s face turned melancholy. “I understand...”

IV

Internal Struggle

Shirakaya and her comrades returned to a tunnel leading to the mining facility on Qyon’tog. At a fork, they walked through the left passage. Stripped of its jewels and precious stones, the once-mined pathway now appeared dull. Advancing a couple of kilometers, they reached an abandoned shaft that contained an elevator. The mercenaries stepped inside and descended into the asteroid’s enriched depths.

“I wonder how far this goes,” Yarasuro said.

“It leads to the core,” the ghensoth said. “From what I heard, it’ll be at least another decade before Qyon’tog is depleted of minerals.”

“Interesting,” Shirakaya said. “Seems like you know a thing or two about this place.”

“Only because this was my habitat before venturing out to hijack Eternimus. Six cycles on this rock. Six cycles after Zieksar fell ruin to our own ecological suicide.”

“What exactly happened to your planet?” the mutant asked.

Xorvaj gritted his teeth, snorting at the question. “We were at war with each other. Clans fought one another over world domination. It eventually escalated to biological warfare. Then a fanatical military faction unleashed a genetically mutating weapon that poisoned our atmosphere, vaporizing Zieksar’s ecosystem. Our survival depended on an exodus into the stars.”

“Moons of Aarda,” Shirakaya replied. “They certainly never bothered to explain that at the university.”

“It is a terrible fate,” Yarasuro said.

The ghensoth nodded.

Shirakaya took a deep breath. “I can almost understand why you worked so hard to create Urvantak.”

“Uniting is our salvation.”

“No,” the mutant said defiantly. “Your peoples’ redemption lies in an end to extreme savagery.”

Xorvaj clomped over to him, baring his teeth and claws.

“My point exactly.”

These words further incensed Xorvaj who gripped the mutant’s throat. Alarmed, the freelancer unsheathed her enchanted ghanis blade. She didn’t have to speak. Her sword grazed his thick, razor-sharp beak. Feeling its sharpness, he released Yarasuro and backed away as the elevator slowed down and stopped.

“You’re right, mutant,” Xorvaj said. “It’s in our blood to obliterate every obstacle in our path. That is why I planned and still intend to unite all strayed factions. Together, my brethren and I will battle against extinction. It is only a matter of time before we are triumphant.”

“But can’t you replace a way to move on?” Shirakaya asked. “I mean, what if the factions do not unite?”

“Then we’ll crumble into total annihilation like all life on Zieksar,” he said, moving off the creaking platform.

Shirakaya and Yarasuro glanced awkwardly at each other and then followed Xorvaj. The trio walked through another jagged, cavernous passage. Few miners walked by, most of them chiseling the serrated walls in search of gemstones. Meanwhile, a great many scavengers milled about. It was strange to Shirakaya that there were a lot more black-market traders than miners within the mining sector. Pressing on, they crossed an elongated bridge, their gaze avoiding the five-thousand-meter-deep pit beneath them.

When the bridge was behind them, they entered a sector revealing dozens of cavities. The majority of miners worked inside every hole, hacking at jeweled walls. Magically-lit spheres that hovered around the region illuminated each passage. Walking by, a potent odor of hyirum overwhelmed the freelancer.

“Please tell me we’re almost there,” she said.

Xorvaj ignored her, leading his companions past the mining sector. Beyond the multitude of cavities lay a vacant facility nestled into the jagged granite. Since there were no lights inside the facility, Shirakaya assumed it was deserted. Activating built-in lights on their armor, the trio approached the vacant structure.

“This place seems abandoned,” Yarasuro said, scanning the dark region. “How come we’re here?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Shirakaya said.

The ghensoth clicked his KLD, examining his surroundings. “This is Sector V-57X. Now we wait for your buyer.”

“Right,” she said. “3400 hours. Just a few minutes.”

Leaning against a wall, Shirakaya and Xorvaj remained quiet. In the meantime, Yarasuro paced back and forth. To the freelancer, the mutant appeared uncomfortable. By chance, he saw nine silhouettes in an alley and froze, gazing at them. Because of his heightened senses, Yarasuro was able to see despite it being pitch-black. He quickly realized one of the figures was a humyn. Hands and ankles cuffed in manacles, she couldn’t do much except cry.

“Shira,” the mutant whispered. “Slave trade.” As she attempted to look, he continued, “you shoot from a distance while Xorvaj and I attack up-close from the sides, catching them off guard.”

Grumbling at the mutant, Xorvaj responded, “I will not assist.”

“We’re not in the military anymore, Yaro,” the freelancer said. “I’m not taking the law into my hands anymore. Let them be.”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t want anything jeopardizing our deal with the sca’vezi. For all you know, we can start a fight and scare him off. I want to sell this amulet and get the currency we need. No more policing. Understood?”

Eyes downcast, Yarasuro shook his head. “A moment ago, you said we’re not in the military anymore. That means you’re not my captain.”

“Don’t you dare.”

The shadowy figures drew closer. As they moved into the light, four of them revealed themselves to be xentari merchants—all of whom passed by the mercenaries without so much as a glance. The remaining five, on the contrary, gazed upon Shirakaya’s group while advancing. One of them was a tyiri attired in a black suit. Chain in hand, he yanked his new bondservant, accompanied by three ghensoth bodyguards.

Moments later, the sca’vezi obsessed with the xyimorph amulet emerged. “Reveal!” he said hoarsely. “Show me amulet! Show me! Show me!”

Despite the freelancer having been startled by seeing a humyn slave, she clicked her KLD several times, porting the amulet. Not able to bear the sight of the slave, Yarasuro turned away. Xorvaj watched the mutant knight, making sure he wouldn’t jeopardize the trade. Upon seeing the amulet in Shirakaya’s hand, the sca’vezi leapt toward it.

“Mine! Mine! Mine!”

Shirakaya pulled it away. “Yes...for a price. I believe you heard my original offer when speaking with O’dekras: Half a million.”

“Three hundred thousand. Mine!”

“I didn’t come this far to haggle,” Shirakaya said defiantly. “For that, I could’ve sold it on Pravura.”

The sca’vezi cawed. “Fine! I must have it!” He anxiously clicked his KLD, using ZiFi to create a temporary link to the freelancer’s device. Once the link was established, he immediately sent the funds. “Mine! Mine! Mine!”

Acknowledging the transfer, Shirakaya tossed the amulet over to him. The sca’vezi fretfully scrambled to catch his precious talisman. Porting a pistol, Shirakaya shot at the passing bondservant’s manacles, freeing her. The ghensoths raised their guns at the freelancer, but not before she unsheathed her ghanis blade and slit the tyiri along his mottled neck.

“Stand down, brethren!” Xorvaj bellowed, his voice echoing in the dark tunnel. He had no choice but to raise his own weapon. “Do not force me to kill you. Abandon this dead alien whose species serves no purpose to our superior needs. Serve yourselves and await the resurrection of Urvantak.”

Yarasuro stood silent, slack-jawed. Quicker than a bullet ricocheting, it seemed to him, the freelancer had taken matters into her own hands by killing the creature that he had so desperately wanted to eliminate. The trio stared into the barrels of thermal guns capable of liquefying them with a single ray, not making a move until the behemoth guards lowered their own weapons and withdrew, leaving the shivering, sobbing slave.

“Ho-how can I serve you?”

“You’re free,” Shirakaya said. Porting an outfit from her original wardrobe on Aarda, she gave it to the woman clad in rags. “Put that on and clean yourself up. I’ll do nothing more. Good luck.”

“Th-thank you!”

The freelancer walked away, returning to the lively mining sector. This time she led the way, Xorvaj and Yarasuro following her. The ghensoth grimaced at Shirakaya but was grateful to be alive. As for the mutant, he had no idea why she’d decided to prevent the tyiri from leaving with a slave; yet he couldn’t help but smile.

“You know,” Yarasuro began, “back in the military, our orders would’ve been to disarm and arrest the tyiri instead of killing him. But, somehow, seeing him dead doesn’t bother me. As a matter of fact, I found your actions to be more honorable than allowing slave trade.”

“Don’t think I’m self-righteous, Yaro. I made a move only because I knew that if I didn’t, I would’ve lost your—”

Vokken unexpectedly appeared on the freelancer’s KLD. “My apologies for interrupting such an emotional moment, but Myris needs to be picked up immediately. Benetarians attempted to kidnap her at Pravura’s festival.”

“Goodness. Is she all right?”

“Yes...thanks to our glorious queen. She’s taking refuge at the Sky Launch nearest Iyonji Palace until you arrive.”

“We’re on our way.”

Alternate Realities

The Twelve Dimensions are not to be trifled with. Each cosmic reality remains untethered for reasons deemed incomprehensible to the finite mind. To undo the Order of nature that I have instilled is to tamper with Chaos—the unpredictable prospect of oblivion. If it be of a spiritual, corporal, or magical realm, such tampering with transdimensional phenomena may very well cause the universe to collapse. Such fatal obscurities are by no means for the faint of heart. Children of the stars, heed my warning and seek not the perverse tinkering of pseudo-science, but, rather, the acceptance of nature’s innate properties.

Alterations 19:3