Page 1 of Across the Stars (Cosmic Threads of Fate #1)

CHAPTER ONE

WATAI

The sun rose over the Jeweled Spine peaks, illuminating the gentle violet waves cascading onto the white beach sands, making them glisten like coral.

Through his window, Watai could see the untethered Z’meuak’s shimmering bodies in the distance, flying among the floating rocks of Protector Peak just outside the gulf waters.

Their faint calls echoed against the mountains.

A faint smile rose to his lips at the thought that he wasn’t the only one enjoying the first nice, peaceful morning after a season of storms.

A few wistful white clouds in the sky—promising a sunny day—were the only remnants of the terrible storms that seemed to last forever during the rainy season—Z’myu’s time of mourning.

Z’myu had cried many nights as her younger sister, the smaller of the two suns, faded slowly from Z’Mynua’s skies until the next harvest season.

He knew it wouldn’t be long before he regretted wishing for scorching heat, especially when the time came to harvest this year’s bounty.

Finally, his tribe would be free of the dreary, torrential rain as Z’myu smiled down on them, welcoming her creations to the start of the growing season as her older sister—the larger of the two suns—graced the skies.

Watai despised the rainy season and how it prevented him from being one with Iskzo. He desired nothing more now than to take a long flight with his threadmount and stretch his wings.

Mind melding with his beautiful Z’meuak, becoming one as they soared through the sky, feeling the wings beat against his skin and Iskzo’s powerful muscles flex underneath between his legs—that was a pleasure he hadn’t experienced since the harvest season had turned into the rainy season.

“What’s holding us back?” Iskzo pathed, his mental voice softly caressing the outskirts of Watai’s mind. “The day is still new. Most of the tribe is still sleeping, dreaming with their cosmic bonds. You have nothing to be concerned about. If we get carried away, your scouts will know what to do.”

Dreaming with their cosmic bonds…

Beyond the rare visits from Iskzo, when his threadmount’s consciousness sought his, his dreams were lonely. Those stolen moments were so full of reassurance and life that they only made the rest feel duller.

Watai closed his eyes and placed his hand in the middle of his chest, right between his hearts, attempting to soothe the hollow ache deep within him. It was a constant reminder that his cosmic cord was missing a threadmate.

“There’s still time,” Iskzo reassured him, picking up on his rider’s emotions and thoughts via their cosmic thread. “Someone is out there, waiting for their threadmate, just like you. Our cord will be complete once you find them and seal your bond, until we return to Z’myu.”

“The problem is finding them.” Watai sighed and opened his eyes, pushing away the lingering incomplete feeling he had grown to despise.

It had developed from a minor annoyance after he first appeared when he completed his trials to a constant agony now, proving he had matured to adulthood.

“How many more harvest festivals do I have to attend before I find my threadmate? How many rainy seasons do I have to spend alone?”

“With me, you’re never alone.” Iskzo’s mental voice crashed through Watai like a thousand war horns, rattling loose the unease he’d kept buried. “Not when you have your family, friends, scouts, and tribe with you. Threadrider, trust Z’myu; she knows best.”

“Every year, you sound more like my mother.”

Watai shook his head, cursing himself for venting his frustrations on one so close to him. His lips curled back as he threaded stray strands of hair—tumbled loose overnight—between his horns. He swallowed the growl, his tail lashing in restless arcs.

“I’m sorry, Brother.” Watai’s thought brushed Z’myuzo with a loving, respectful pulse of warmth.

He exhaled, muscles unclenching, and pivoted toward his cosmic thread—that teal eternal connection only visible to himself, those who shared it—leading straight to his threadmount.

“I didn’t mean to lash out at you like an underling who can’t get his way. ”

Watai stood in his hut, facing the thin wall that divided him from loyal Z’myuzo. The barrier was meaningless; through it, he felt Iskzo outside on his favorite branch, wings folded tight, the weight of his gaze pressing back through wood and air.

Their deep connection—knowing where the other was and projecting emotions and thoughts—was something he desired in a mate, too.

As he stood inside the home that he had built with his bare hands out of braided living reed and vine, filled with all the possessions that he had accumulated over the years, he felt even more alone.

“I know what’s in your hearts,” Iskzo pathed, his mental voice slow and warm, a steady tide against Watai’s frayed thoughts. “Come, leave the hut. Let the sky clear your mind—fly with me over our land before we meet the others.”

“You’re right.” Watai nodded, lifting his saddle, reins, and ring blade from the wall display. “Can you reach my wingleaders’ threadmounts and tell them our plans?”

Watai slipped through the vine curtain shielding his hut’s threshold and vaulted onto the encircling perch rim.

The lifestones dangling from the roof cast a soft glow across his platform, morning light still choked by the tribal tree’s dense canopy. The hush from the nearby huts, hanging lower in the crown, told him their riders still slept.

He scanned the netting for storm damage—any hint a neighbor above had lost something overnight—and nodded when everything held.

A few Z’myuzo perched near their threadriders’ huts, bodies coiled with anticipation. They shifted and flicked their tails, wings shuffling, eyes swirling with content greens and eager blues.

It was as if they too, were ready to celebrate the end of the rainy season.

Watai grinned as he rounded the back corner of his hut and found his threadmount waiting—four legs planted, wings spread in welcome.

Iskzo was one of the largest Z’myuzo in the Lake Trinity Tribe, with a heart and personality just as immense.

Sunlight turned his emerald scales into shifting flashes of blue and purple.

But it was his wings that always stole onlooker’s breath—hues so like the dark-blue skies below and the violet waters above that he vanished into both, perfectly built for hunting… and for slipping past hunters unseen.

Watai couldn’t have asked for a better threadmount.

“Your message has been received,” Iskzo pathed, nudging his head against Watai’s shoulder. “When we return, your father would like a report over the morning meal.”

“Tell Enizo that I will gladly eat with my family once we have completed our flight.” Watai gently grabbed Iskzo’s chin and pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes as he mentally hugged him. “And then we’ll lead our wing on the first patrol rounds of the season.”

“Perhaps I’ll be able to catch one of my favorite fish from Lake Trinity today.” Iskzo trilled with excitement, his eyes swirling in various shades of blue. “I know you despise the heat, but I can’t wait to soak up the rays while you work with the tribe.”

“At least one of us enjoys the heat,” Watai muttered, opening his eyes as he drew back from his threadmount and scratched under his chin. A pleased rumble vibrated through Iskzo’s chest. “Let’s get this gear on you and be off.”

“Hurry, before someone sees you awake and ropes you into helping.”

Iskzo padded farther along the branch, giving Watai room to pass without risking a fall. He crouched close to the bark so his threadrider could loop the straps across his back. “I’m well aware of your insatiable urge to fix every problem your clanmates dream up.”

“They’ll have to wait,” Watai chuckled, the rush of Iskzo’s excitement flooding through their bond. “We’ve got things to do.”

A deep rumble rolled through Iskzo’s chest as he bobbed his head in agreement.

Watai beamed, looping the reins around Iskzo’s frame, hooking them over his forearms and threading them through the saddle as naturally as breathing.

They needed this—needed to be one. The unity between them wasn’t a luxury; it was survival.

Watai yanked each strap tight, testing every buckle. Iskzo would catch him if he fell—teleportation made that certain—but trust didn’t cancel caution. A single mistake could still kill him.

He vaulted onto Iskzo’s back, clipped his belt to the saddle, and gave the gear one last glance. Leaning forward, he gripped Iskzo’s shoulders, tail pinned close to the z'myuzo’s body as they readied for their first launch of the season.

“We fly!”