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TWENTY

Stavian

Stavian stood in the center of the fortress hall, surrounded by five towering males with wings, claws, and eyes that matched shades of his own—a circle of blood he hadn’t known existed two cycles ago. Four of them looked too much like him to ignore. One looked like he’d walked through fire and war and stayed standing only because rage asked him to. Every instinct in Stavian’s body screamed that this moment should feel impossible. Too much. But it didn’t. He wished Cerani was there beside him. Her solid warmth pressing against his shoulder would be a welcome presence as he faced the greatest emotional punch of his life.

But Cerani had been enveloped by four joyful Terian females the moment they’d stepped onto this ship. She’d met his brothers, which had been interesting. She’d had a strong reaction to Ellion, who had formerly been the overseer at the settlements they were from. Turi, a pretty, blue-haired Terian, was his mate. Between Turi’s vouching for him, and Ellion’s respectful apology for his previous rule over them, Cerani unbent enough to find her voice and tell him that she forgave him. She added a warning not to hurt Turi, which, by the look of them together, would not be happening, and he accepted this with a few reverent promises, much like the ones Stavian himself had made to Cerani.

Stavian found it telling that each of the Zaruxians were bonded to one of these females. It didn’t seem like a coincidence, but Stavian wasn’t one for destiny, or fate, or any of that foolishness. Still, it was curious. Five brothers. Five Terians who were like sisters.

After introductions, Cerani had left with her friends. To where, was a mystery. The Zaruxian ship was beyond massive. He knew she was safe, but a part of him was anxious to know where she was. To have her by his side.

The space itself—massive, echoing—was dark rock and some metal alloy, with surprisingly homey fixtures—sofas, tapestries, a fireplace. The walls were etched with symbols he couldn’t interpret—but something inside him recognized them. There were no high screens or Axis monitors. No guards in formation. Only silence and tension. The floor beneath him was more flat, dark stone and his boots clicked when he stepped, but not harshly. More like a mark—like the fortress ship listened when he moved through it. It should have felt foreign. Cold. Stark.

It felt like home.

He examined the males before him, cataloging them as they evaluated him.

Bruil stood slightly to the side. Older than all of them, he wore, like badges, the scars of every fight he’d survived. Bronze scale patterns were broken in places from plasma burns. His eyes were sharper than most soldiers, and held a weight that didn’t come from command or age, but grief. Quiet, weathered loss that hadn’t dimmed. Stavian knew that look—he saw it in the mirror when his conscience got the better of him. Bruil didn’t look away. He studied Stavian like he was looking for both a threat and a reminder.

To his left stood Ellion. Cold and still. Leaner than Bruil but just as dangerous. The deep violet of his scales shimmered under the fortress lighting, but nothing else about him shimmered. His posture, his stare, his voice the first time he spoke—it was all precise. Controlled. Too still not to be deliberate. Stavian recognized it instantly as a fellow former Axis leader. A cold mask was drilled into all command training, and Ellion wore it like armor. He’d saved Turi, a free spirit with sparkling green eyes, from the raiders’ ship, having previously laid a claim on her. He’d loved her long before they spoke a word to each other. And his love was apparent as his silver gaze followed her with devotion.

Beside him, Cyprian lounged in a chair like a god bored with worship. He had crimson scales, with gold shot through the bones of his wings like veins of light. He wore a faintly amused expression, his mouth pulled into an easy grin that didn’t match the sharpness in his eyes. The kind of male who flattered you a pek before killing you. His mate was the sweetest, cheeriest little female he’d ever laid eyes on. Fivra, with pink hair and a pure smile, looked exactly as Cerani described her, and Cyprian, who looked like a debauched warlord, gazed on her like she was the most beautiful jewel he’d ever set eyes on. Stavian wasn’t sure he liked him, but he wanted to.

Next to Cyprian stood Takkian, all green scales and bulk, with a jawline that could break bones and scars that spoke of many, many battles. Warrior. That was clear. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. And the way he looked at Stavian said he’d gut him if he lied once. His mate was Sevas, the yellow-haired, red-eyed female who had taken over the viewscreen on the Mirka. She was taller than all the other Terians, and possessed strength in muscles and mind that made it obvious she was a match for Takkian in every way. They even held the same pose—arms crossed and chin high.

The last was Razion, with gold scales gleaming like flames. His smile had teeth in it, but not cruelty—intellect. The kind that never stopped calculating. His eyes were razor-edged enough to skin deception alive. Lilas was his mate, and she had looked him over with disconcertingly vivid fuchsia eyes, as if seeking out his weaknesses so she could stab him for sport. She was actually very “sweet,” according to Cerani, but he wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of her any more than her mate. Razion had a feral look to him. The kind that said he’d fight dirty if it meant a win, and after learning that he was abducted by raiders as a child and escaped an Axis upbringing, Stavian understood why.

These were his brothers. They were vastly different, from scale tones to personalities to histories, but their eyes told the truth. The silver gazes on him were so familiar, he may have been looking in a mirror.

“This was hers,” Bruil said, finally breaking the silence. His voice sounded like crushed gravel. “Your mother’s fortress. Queen Aklian. She flew it in the last cycle of the war.”

Stavian didn’t move. Wait. Queen? Whatever he was expecting to hear first, this wasn’t it. “Our…mother?”

Bruil nodded sagely. “Her majesty traded herself to the Axis to save you when it was clear we had lost. It was her final act as queen, to save her six sons and the few who survived the war. I served her with pride, as I serve her royal sons. This is where you hatched, and then lived during your infancy.”

“We’re leading with this?” Cyprian drawled. “It never goes over well.”

Takkian growled. “Because it’s meaningless. We have no planet. No people. We are just us.”

But it was obvious that it meant something to Bruil. It meant something to Stavian, too. Not the royal part, but that this was his home. His birthplace. His mother’s fortress.

Stavian looked down. The stone at his feet was smooth, but he could feel it. The presence. The history in the air. It pressed against him like something buried and trying to get out.

“We were looking for you,” Ellion said. “And Cerani. Thank you for making it easy.”

It wasn’t easy at all, but Stavian nodded. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did, we’d be dead. Our escape would have failed.” He inclined his head, as these males were due his gratitude. “Thank you.”

“That’s an Axis insignia on your collar,” Takkian said. “You served them. Loyal. Efficient. Obedient.”

Stavian’s head snapped up. “I was raised by them. Lied to about my past. They told me I was indebted to them. They erased everything about my past.” He moved his gaze to Ellion. “You know this.”

Ellion sighed. A shadow moved over his face. “I do.”

“I wasn’t part of their system, but I know how deeply they indoctrinate their agents.” Razion tilted his head. “For the safety of this family we’ve made and what we’re trying to do, we need to know: is any part of you still loyal to them?”

Stavian clenched his fists. “No.”

“Works for me.” Cyprian’s eyes tracked him with interest. “We’d know if you were lying. Can we move on?”

“Not yet.” Takkian grunted beside him. Green-scaled, thick arms bulged over his chest. “What I want to know is why you stayed so long. You knew what they were. Didn’t your blood burn inside you?”

“My blood didn’t matter,” Stavian said. He kept his tone even, though his heart pounded. “The Axis were all I knew. I didn’t know I had anyone else. I thought doing my job kept people safe,” Stavian said. “I was told the prisoners were dangerous, violent. But the more I dug into the records, it became clear that they weren’t. And then I met Cerani, and I…”

“You fell in love,” Ellion murmured.

“I knew I was lost the first time I looked into her eyes,” Stavian said, well aware of how much he sounded like a lovesick fool. He didn’t care. Unless he’d hallucinated everything until now, these males could relate to every word he said. “She is everything. When she opened her mouth, all she did was tell the truth—about me, the Axis, the mine. I’d stood in that place every cycle thinking I was keeping the mine running with mercy. She burned that lie to the ground with a single look.”

Cyprian let out a low whistle. “Hmm. Sounds like love.”

Stavian’s shoulders squared. “It is.”

“You sure?” Razion asked, one brow raised. “Not a sympathy rebound from betraying your creators? Or the kind you pull back when your pretty prisoner looks at you long enough?”

Stavian stepped forward, eyes flaring. “ Fek you. Never speak about her like that again.” He bared his teeth as heat clawed up his throat. “I know what my mate is to me and I’d sacrifice everything to protect her. I won’t explain myself to you.” Brothers or not, he’d leave now. He was done with their questioning of his motives. He wouldn’t defend his feelings for his mate to anyone. They just were.

“Ah!” Razion smiled, wide and satisfied. “There he is.”

Takkian grunted, but smiled. His stance relaxed. “Sorry for pushing you, brother. We had to know for sure you weren’t sent here to infiltrate and spy. The Axis are not pleased with us. I’d put nothing past them.”

“We did the same thing to Razion,” Cyprian said. “But he fekked up. Completely deserved it.”

“I did not deserve it,” Razion muttered with a frown.

Stavian’s blood was still hot. “I wouldn’t have escaped if it weren’t for her. I wouldn’t have seen what needed to be done, wouldn’t have rescued the mine workers, wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

Bruil let out a quiet sound—like approval hidden behind a growl.

Ellion’s face didn’t change, but he gave a short nod, and that said more than anything else. “We believe you. Not only because of how you said it, but because we’ve all risked the same thing. Every one of us has a mate who cost us our place in the system—and returned our soul in trade.”

“I’m not asking for approval,” Stavian said, shaking his head. “I’ve already chosen her. I won’t stand here and be measured like I’m holding out for your blessing.”

“Good,” Cyprian said. “We’d respect you less if you were.”

Stavian let out a breath. If this was what having brothers was like, it was going to be exhausting. “Cerani and I came looking for you. The stories—the uprisings—are circulating through the Axis despite Central’s efforts to keep them quiet. We planned to find you.”

“You wanted to join our cause,” Ellion said.

“Yes.” Stavian looked at each of them. “But I have a complication, as you know. When you scanned the ship, you found forty-eight ex-miners onboard. We took them with us because leaving them there was a death sentence. Most of them are still recovering. They fought their way out, just like I did. Most are not trained soldiers, but some are. They deserve safety, freedom, and fresh starts.”

“They’re safe for now,” Bruil said. “We will protect them.”

Stavian nodded. “Good. But they can’t stay in the hold forever and they don’t belong here any more than they did at the mines. I’m thinking of giving them the ESS Mirka.”

“The ship you arrived on?” Razion tapped his fingers together. “It’s a good ship. Old, but solid. You sure?”

Stavian looked at him. “It’s not mine. I’d like to stock it with supplies and point them to a few friendly outposts. Let them build something of their own. The small crew I gathered to fly the thing is good. The pilot used to captain a small fleet. He can lead. It’s the least I can do for them, after forcing them to work in the mines.”

“We can help you with that,” Ellion said, nodding. “We’re well-stocked and can share whatever they need. We can fill it with supplies, strip off all Axis markings, and give them access codes to the outer rings. Friendly routes only. No red-zones.”

Stavian felt tension melt from his shoulders. “Thank you. As for Cerani and me—”

“This is your home, Stavian.” Ellion stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not just you anymore. You have us. Cerani has us. And we will stand by your side. No matter what. We are family.”

“Like it, or not,” Cyprian quipped with a grin.

Stavian was at a loss for words for a moment. He didn’t know what a family was. The Axis had tried to fashion themselves as a family, but they were anything but. He looked at the four irritating, difficult, opinionated males before him and felt his chest swell. They were all the things he thought about them, but they were his. He knew in his gut that what Ellion said was true. They’d stand by him. Cerani was reunited with her chosen family. Now he was, too.

He clasped Ellion’s shoulder in return. “I’m with you. You have my word.”

Everything instantly became more relaxed. Postures eased. Voices became easy and light. Joking commenced and someone went to the replicator for food and drinks. Stavian couldn’t help but feel that this was the most surreal thing that had happened to him. As they sat back on sofas and chairs, just talking, he knew it would take a little while to get used to this.

“There is one more,” Ellion said, almost offhandedly. “A sixth. Our final brother.”

Stavian took a drink from the large cup he held. It was synthesized ale. Not terrible. “There’s only one other Zaruxian in the Axis that I know of,” he said slowly. “But I hope it’s not him.”

“Why?” Cyprian asked. “Is he a half-wit? Most families have one, I’ve heard.”

“No.” Stavian frowned into his cup. “He’s at Axis Central in the high command. He sits on the council of twelve. I’ve never met him, but I know of him.”

“High command.” Razion let out a whistle. “That’s a problem.”

Takkian’s eyes narrowed. “Does he know what he is?”

“I don’t know,” Stavian replied. “But if he does, and still accepts it all, he’s a lost cause.”

Bruil rubbed his grizzled chin. “Tell me, lad. Do you happen to know the location of Axis Central?”

“Yes,” Stavian said. “It’s not a secret.”

Razion laughed. “Yes, it is. I’ve been looking for it for many mig-cycles.”

Ellion reached over to a side table and picked up a data tablet. “Can you show us?”

Stavian took it, hands steady. He pulled up the star charts, tapped through the systems, and dragged his finger across the galactic display until he reached the coordinates and the planet they were looking for. “There.” He pointed, and five heads tipped forward to see where he indicated. “ZX-339. Axis Central. The command citadel has been located here for as long as I can remember,” he said. “They say it’s under a dome that’s fortified down to the mantle. That nothing outside the top tier of Central goes there.”

The silence that followed was loud. No one moved or spoke. They just stared.

“What is it?” Stavian asked.

“That’s not ZX-339,” Bruil said, looking slowly up from the map. “That’s Zarux. Our home planet. Before the Axis came.”

Stavian stared. “No. That’s—”

Razion’s smirk vanished. “They didn’t just take our people. They took our planet and made it a throne.”

Stavian looked back at the projection on the tablet. It didn’t look special—just a place, like every Axis system map. But now? That grid burned. He stayed still for a second, his gaze trailing back to the tablet. Everything was shifting. His mind worked through each part—every system he’d trained under, every cycle of loyalty drilled into his spine. It all felt like a slow crumbling now.

Zarux. Not ZX-339. Not a district. Not data. Not history.

Home.

His mother had died protecting it. Her blood. Her ship. Her sons. And now it sat beneath Axis control, with its true name buried under scrubbed files and renamed skies.

Silence stretched thin through the room.

Takkian hauled himself forward and leaned his forearms on his thighs. “So,” he said, “who’s ready to take it back?”