Page 21 of Galactic Sentinels, Vol. 1 (Chronicles of Pherebos #1)

Ileana.

The days pass quietly on MyFaS, without much excitement. But I’m not nearly as bored as I thought I’d be. Thankfully, Wingo’s around to keep me company. He’s a riot—funny, playful, and way less uptight than Pherebos.

Honestly, I haven’t felt the urge to break any of the so-called sacred rules. But when it came to the lake ban? Yeah, I didn’t ask for permission.

So now, every day, I go swimming—just me, the water, and my underwear. And it feels amazing.

Later, Wingo starts teaching me how to cook. Well, “teaching” might be a stretch. He gives me instructions, and I do my best to follow them. That’s how I learned to make crêpes, fruit compote, and veggie pies—after a few total disasters, of course.

He also gave me the full Queen discography, including everything by their lead singer, Freddie Mercury. The songs are a breeze for me, and Wingo’s choreography for some of the choruses? Hilarious and surprisingly fun .

At the end of the day, we hang out in the lounge, watching movies and snacking on chocolate. I was shocked to find out how much Pherebos had stashed away. Even the governor only let me taste it on special occasions.

Pherebos’s chocolate is kind of raw—super rich, high in cocoa, and satisfying in just a few bites.

But Wingo had me make a chocolate fondant using powdered egg, sweet sap from a shrub, and oil from a tiny nut.

The result? Pure decadence. We’ve already eaten half the batch, but there’s still some left for tonight.

Every morning, I watch Wingo head off to hunt for insects while I slip into the lake.

I always ease in slowly, warming up with a few strokes before heading toward the center. The water wraps around me like freedom itself. And I love that I’m breaking Pherebos’s rule. I don’t see the point of obeying this one. The lake is perfectly safe.

The first time I swam here, Wingo stayed close, keeping a watchful eye on me. But for the past ten days or so, he’s been off doing his own thing. I guess he trusts me now.

Swimming always brings back memories of my sister. She loved the water—completely fearless. She didn’t care about falling or bumping into things. In the water, she was free. Exhilarated. Alive.

I keep swimming, lap after lap, crossing the lake from one side to the other, again and again without stopping. I must’ve been lost in those memories for over an hour. My body’s starting to feel it—every muscle aching, fatigue setting in. Time to head back.

Then—bam. A sharp pain shoots through my right calf. It’s sudden and brutal, like something tearing inside me.

I try to swim toward the shore, but my leg won’t cooperate. My calf is locked up, cramping hard. I’m kicking with one leg, flailing with my arms, doing everything I can to stay afloat. I reach down, trying to grab my foot, to stretch it out, to make the pain stop—but it’s no use.

I can’t keep my head above water. Panic sets in fast. I try to call out for Wingo, but I can’t catch my breath. Water floods my mouth, and panic takes over. This is really starting to suck.

I lift my head, desperate for air, and I think I see someone standing on the bank. But I can’t hold on. I sink again, grabbing my foot, trying to massage the cramp out of my rock-hard calf.

Then—an arm wraps around my waist and pulls me upward. I try to help, but my leg’s useless.

My head breaks the surface, and I gasp—more sob than breath.

“Don’t struggle, I’ve got you. I’m taking you back to the edge,” says a voice I know too well.

Pherebos.

Wait—what? He’s not supposed to be here. And he can’t swim… or at least, that’s what I thought .

He guides us through the water, shielding my face from the waves. Then he stands, water up to his chest, and lifts me into his arms. I’m still clutching my foot, trying to stretch the muscle and stop the pain.

He carries me to the towel I left near the shore and gently lays me down. Then he kneels beside me, his hands warm and steady as he takes hold of my leg.

“Let me see what you did to yourself,” he says softly.

My calf is tight, knotted into a visible lump. I can’t help but let out little groans as he massages it, slowly working the muscle loose. The pain starts to ease, but it’s still there, lingering.

Pherebos looks up at me, his expression caught somewhere between concern and frustration.

“Let me see what you did to yourself there,” he says.

My calf is completely seized up, the muscle balled into a visible knot. I wince and let out small groans as he works on it, his hands firm but careful, coaxing the tension out little by little. The pain starts to ease, though it still lingers like a warning.

Finally, he lowers my leg and looks at me. There’s a strange expression on his face—half a smile, half fury. His jaw is tight, but his eyes are searching mine, like he’s trying to decide whether to scold me or just be relieved I’m okay.

He must’ve just gotten off SIL—he’s still wearing his official Confederation uniform. And suddenly, I realize how much I’ve missed him.

“You’re home,” I say, flatly .

“So it would seem. And lucky for you, considering the mess I found you in.”

His voice is calm, but I can feel the fury simmering underneath.

“You can swim!” I accuse, still breathless.

Best defense is a good offense, right?

He replies, brushing his wet hair back and glancing at the lake.

“Ileana,” he sighs, “I come from an almost entirely aquatic world.”

I open my mouth to ask more, but he cuts me off.

“But I don’t want to talk about it.” His tone is final. “Can you walk on your own?”

With his help, I slowly get to my feet and test my weight on the sore leg. It holds, barely.

Then I glance down—and freeze.

My tunic is lying a few yards away, and I'm standing here in nothing but my soaked underwear.

I look down at my plain underwear, which is all wet, leaving my breasts almost visible. I go red and turn to him.

If he's looking at me like that, he's definitely noticed my tunic is missing. His eyes slowly meet mine. The tension is real, and it's not just anger anymore! I swallow hard. My breathing speeds up and matches his.

He moves his face closer to mine, slowly.

I feel like he wants to kiss me. I've been kissed very little in my life.

There was that one time with Rayan on BN-35, an inexperienced kiss on both his and my sides.

And twice by Henri, at public events, cold, chaste kisses.

But with Pherebos, I have a feeling it's going to be different.

His mouth is now really close to mine. I can feel her breath mixing with mine. I start to feel a bit nervous.

“Gnuffgnuff! Gnuffgnuff!” Wingo squeals, racing toward us like a furry missile.

“ Pherebos is home! Pherebos is home !” he chants, bouncing up and down with excitement.

Well, there goes my chance to find out what Pherebos’s kisses taste like. And judging by the look on his face, he’s just as frustrated as I am.

“Wingo, you can help by taking Ileana’s tunic back to the complex,” Pherebos says, his voice tight but composed.

Back in my room, I dry off and change quickly. My calf still aches, but it’s not nearly as bad as before. I decide to take it easy for the rest of the day.

I take a deep breath and head back to the common area, bracing myself for whatever lecture Pherebos has in store.

“WINGOOO! How many times do I have to tell you? Stop taking my stuff! You’ve already got a mountain of toys—give it back, now!”

Our furry friend looks up at him with the most innocent eyes imaginable.

He’s adorable like that—wide-eyed, ears perked, tail swishing like he’s never done anything wrong in his life.

If I hadn’t already caught him hoarding little trinkets in his den in the corner of the lounge, I might actually believe him .

“Wingo,” Pherebos says, his tone firm.

The adorable thief lowers his ears and slinks off to his stash.

A moment later, he returns with something in his trunk—a beautifully carved wooden object I recognize immediately.

It’s the handle of a dagger from Pherebos’s world.

The blade’s long gone, but he kept the handle as a keepsake.

It’s intricate, delicate, and clearly important to him.

“Nothing else?” Pherebos asks, arms crossed.

Wingo disappears again and comes back with… my hairbrush.

I shoot him a glare. He just grins, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth like he’s proud of himself.

Pherebos raises an eyebrow and says, “Don’t let that innocent face fool you.

I’ve known him a long time—he’ll be back at it the moment we turn our backs.

Once we’re done dealing with Wingo’s antics and Ileana’s rule-breaking, I suggest we grab a bite.

I rushed home, and I’m starving. We’ll deal with the cargo later. ”

The three of us settle around the low coffee table. Wingo once told me the legs used to be much taller, but Pherebos cut them down so they could all eat together. I thought that was surprisingly thoughtful of him.

I serve the vegetable confit I made earlier, trying not to look too proud. Pherebos raises an eyebrow again but doesn’t say a word.

We eat in silence, but it doesn’t last. The calm is quickly broken by Pherebos’s laser focus.

“I’m officially renewing the ban on going near the lake,” he says. “As you can see, it’s dangerous. ”

“Nonsense,” I shoot back. “There’s nothing wrong with that lake. I was out there every morning while you were gone. Swimming is good for me.”

His eyes darken, stormy and intense. I start to wonder if this is how it’s always going to be between us—this push and pull.

“I just saw what happened. If I hadn’t come back two days early…” His voice catches.

“It wasn’t the lake’s fault,” I say, softer now. “It was my calf. That’s never happened to me before.”

“And it won’t happen again,” he says firmly. “You’re clearly stubborn. But from now on, you’ll listen to me.”

He raises an eyebrow in that infuriatingly superior way of his. Ugh. He’s such a pain when he does that. But weirdly, I don’t feel like he’s trying to control me the way Henri used to. It’s different.

Then he gestures toward the project Wingo’s been guarding like a treasure.

“Look what I made,” he says. “Chocolate fudge.”

“I’m not lifting the ban,” he adds quickly, “so don’t even think about bribing me with that.”

“Isn’t it?” I tease. “Too bad there’s barely any left.”

I cut two generous slices from what remains and hand one to him with a smirk.

I hand a piece of fudge to Wingo and place the second one in front of me—right under Pherebos’s disapproving glare.

“Come to think of it…” he says, clearly indignant, “where on earth did you get chocolate? That’s from my personal stash.Personal, as innot for public consumption! ”

Wingo freezes mid-bite, eyes wide. Then, slowly, he nudges his piece back toward Pherebos with his trunk, guilt written all over his face.

Oops. Guess I messed up. Again. Though this time, it really was unintentional. Henri would’ve punished me harshly for far less. But Pherebos just sighs, clearly exasperated, and grabs a spoon to finish the pastry.

That’s it? No yelling? No lecture? His features even soften as he takes a bite.

“Mmm. This is delicious,” he says, glancing at me with something that almost looks like approval.

For a moment, I forget to eat my own slice. Then I notice a faint smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth. He sees it too—and freezes, locking eyes with me.

“Welp! I’m going for a walk!” Wingo blurts out, bolting for the door like his tail’s on fire.

What? No! No no no—I don’t want to be alone with this man right now. I may fantasize about him more often than I’d like to admit, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to fall under his spell. Especially not when he holds all the power.

We finish the meal in total silence. The tension is thick, and I’m not sure what to make of it. I’m not scared… but I’m definitely on edge.

Then Pherebos stands abruptly.

“I have a meeting with Akifumi in five minutes. I’ll take it in my room. I’ll see you later. ”

I watch him go, suspicion creeping in. Why does he need to isolate himself just to take a call? Henri used to do that too—always hiding things, always keeping secrets. It’s not exactly helping me trust Pherebos unconditionally.

When I step outside the complex, I find Wingo sprawled out in the sun, looking completely at peace.

“ Hey,” he says lazily, “ did you finally get into a scuffle with Pherebos? I’m not surprised—your auras werethrobbingwith heat. Scorching heat!”

“Wingo!” I snap. “Reading our auras is just as invasive as seeing me naked! I’d appreciate a little privacy next time.”

“ You’re out of your mind,” he says, unfazed. “ How am I supposed tonotsee it? Your bond is like a beam of light shooting out of both of you. And sometimes it gets so intense…”

“What bond are you talking about?”

“Er… figure of speech! Just a figure of speech,” he says quickly, dodging the question. “ So, where’s Pherebos?”

“Your good friend went off to have aprivatechat with Akifumi,” I say, my tone sharper than I intend.

“ Don’t be upset. He won’t be long. These kinds of communications are always tricky.”

“But why keep it secret from me? Do you know what they’re talking about?”

“ Not exactly,” Wingo admits. “ But you’ve got nothing to fear from Pherebos. I promise.”

“What if he’s working with the Confederation to turn me in?”

“You’ve got a wild imagination, that’s for sure,” he says, shaking his head . “That’s not happening. Pherebosrescuedyou from that creep Henri. He didn’t do that for nothing. Still having nightmares about that slimeball who killed your sister?”

“How could I not?” I mutter. “He’s murdered so many people who got in his way. And yetI’mthe one on the run, whilehe’srunning Jaga-18 like some kind of hero.”

“Don’t let that jerk drag you down. He’ll have to answer for what he’s done—don’t doubt it.”

Wingo always surprises me. For someone who acts like a mischievous furball most of the time, he’s got a deep well of empathy and insight. Well… wisdom , maybe not always. Let’s not push it.

Suddenly, Pherebos appears, striding toward us with purpose.

“Akifumi will be here in a few days,” he announces, smiling broadly.

So I’m finally going to meet this mysterious friend of his. I’m not sure whether to be excited or worried—but I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.