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Thirty-Eight

T he summit station drifted in Luxar’s upper orbit, a black ring of alloy and mindstone carved from ancient asteroid husks. It was neutral ground—sacred, unclaimed, bound by long-ago oaths sworn between rivals.

Karian arrived in silence, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow of the deep. His ship had docked without escort. No procession. No announcements. He did not need ceremony to assert power.

The Circle waited. The chamber was round, its walls paneled with living obsidian that absorbed the heat and sound of emotion. The ceiling opened to the stars beyond, letting their cold gaze bear witness to this meeting.

Three other Marak had gathered.

Vakkar , swathed in crimson and plated gold, sat lazily in his highbacked chair, his crown of spiked horns glinting in the artificial light. His smirk cut across his dark face like a scar.

Akeran , the oldest, bore bone-white armor fused to his flesh, the result of ancient war injuries. His eyes were like twin slits of ice, dispassionate and razor-sharp.

Isen , robed in dark teal, elegant and still, rested his elongated chin on one long, clawed finger. Unlike the others, his expression was thoughtful rather than hostile.

They said nothing at first.

Then Vakkar broke the silence.

“So. It’s true. The Marak of Malvar has taken a human as a consort.” His voice slithered with envy. “Is she soft? Delicate? Curious how the weakest species so easily tamed the coldest of us.”

Karian did not sit.

“I took her from the Dukkar slavers,” he said. “They captured her illegally. She was sold in chains.”

“And you kept her?” Akeran’s voice sharpened. “You claim it wasn’t abduction, yet you did not return her to her people.”

“She is no longer their subject,” Karian said calmly. “She belongs with me.”

Isen leaned forward. “What is she like, Karian? This… Le-o-nie.” He tasted her name slowly. “Do they truly feel emotion as we do? Or is it all mimicry? Flesh responding to impulse?”

“Emotions are real to them,” Karian said. “Sometimes more real than our own.”

“Hmph.” Vakkar sneered. “Then perhaps I should acquire one. They sound entertaining. Fragile. Beautiful. I hear they cry during copulation.”

A cold wind stirred the chamber—though there were no vents. Karian’s tentacles tensed.

Akeran turned toward Isen. “Curious that you ask so gently. You are thinking of following him down this path?”

Isen’s lips curled faintly. “I am curious. If one human can bring the mighty Karian to heel, what might two or three do for the rest of us?”

Karian’s voice was low, but it silenced them all. “She has not tamed me. But she has earned my loyalty.”

Vakkar rolled his eyes. “Loyalty. Is that what we’re calling it now? You leave Luxar. You descend to a primitive planet. All for a pet.”

“She wants her dog,” Akeran said flatly. “A creature. A beast. You risk exposing our existence to the Consulate over a dog.”

Karian’s hands flexed. “She was torn from her world. I will give back what was taken. You speak of exposure. I speak of reparation.”

Vakkar leaned forward. “And if I wanted one of my own? What then? Shall I send ships? Collect a few hundred humans from Earth? A harvest, perhaps?”

“No,” Karian said, his voice darker now. “You will not take a single human unless they choose to come. Willingly. Enthusiastically.”

“ Willingly ?” Akeran laughed, sharp and cruel. “And what will you do if we don’t listen? Raise your voice? Appeal to our conscience?”

The chamber shuddered.

A low, ominous hum resonated from the floor. The obsidian panels vibrated with a deep, growing tremor. Overhead, the stars seemed to dim.

The Marak froze.

A shadow rippled across the ceiling, and for a heartbeat, the illusion of the stars cracked—revealing Karian’s telekinetic force, stretched and straining like a storm barely held at bay.

“I will do more than raise my voice,” Karian said quietly. “I will unmake your ships. One by one. I will drown your thrones beneath the tides. I will disrupt the very oceans that feed your people.”

He let the threat hang in the air, his control just barely pulled back.

Silence.

Isen was the first to bow his head.

Akeran muttered, “So be it.”

Vakkar’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Karian stepped back from the table. “She will return to Earth. With me. To retrieve her creature. And when we return, let no being touch her. Or they will know my wrath.”

Then he left them, the air still vibrating from his presence, and the stars whispering his name.