Page 108 of Scorching the Alien Empire (The Klendathian Cycle #7)

Krogoth bares his fangs. His eyes blaze violet. But it’s Rocks who calms him, tiptoeing to whisper in his ear, her hand pressed to his chest. Her gaze locks with the Imperator as if his very soul is laid bare before her.

“Bonds once forgotten are now reforged,” I growl, voice echoing through the Nebian opulence. “Through us, the Gods delivered victory.”

Juliara scoffs. “This one? He’s so grotesquely large he can only grunt cryptic delusions.” She waves her hand as though brushing me from existence.

She feigns contempt but I sense the flicker of fear beneath. Not just her. The others. Even the Imperator. Their scent reeks of the sweet tang of panic, eyes falling downward, hesitating for an instant.

The truth they deny. The glory they seek to steal.

This victory— our victory—belongs to the Gods.

“ Psst, Psst. ” Princesa tugs on my vambrace, voice soft. “ Babes. Don’t flash your little sparklers. Believe me, they’re not impressing anybody,” she whispers, smiling sweetly as if offering a blessing instead of a barb.

My frown deepens, but the heat in my blood cools just a notch.

“You fear us, Imperator,” Krogoth says, nodding at Rocks.

“The powers we wield. The divinity beyond your comprehension. You see freedom—true freedom—and you shudder. Instead of celebration, you cast judgment. You insult Chieftains, justifying Krak-Tok challenge. You insult our history. You insult our honor .” His voice and hand rise.

“Where is the noble Imperator Xandor spoke of?”

“Victory, you wrought?” Juliara snaps, unable to restrain herself.

“Your fleet tore itself apart! Typical of your kind. You descended into chaos at the first test. You tarnish the memory of the imperial forces that died bravely wiping the Scythian scourge from this system. If not for the Imperator’s arrival—”

“Enough, Consul Juliara.” The Imperator raises a hand, his calm voice cutting through her tirade. “Where is the Warrior of Peace Xandor? And Kor-Kis Tyrxie?” the Imperator asks, his tone shifting. “I had hoped to thank them both again.”

“ Warrior of Peace?” Princesa mutters, wrinkling her nose. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Xandor. Krogoth’s Second. An unremarkable warrior .

I recall him clearly. More mouth than fangs.

His tongue nearly cost him his life within the Peaks of Scarn.

But now that he’s bonded to a human female, they speak his name like legend.

How strong has he become? What powers have the Gods gifted him?

My blood simmers with furious delight at the prospect of testing it.

“He’s en route to Klendathor,” Krogoth replies curtly.

“A shame,” the Imperator sighs, gaze distant.

“He was eloquent. Polite. A warrior-poet who appreciated art and finer thought.” He shakes his head, beard swaying like a wind-swept curtain.

“And by the twin-suns, how he moved—like starlight flickering through space.” His eyes brighten.

“I saw him with my own eyes. He wove through a Battlesuit’s repeater fire. Unbelievable. Impossible. ”

“I don’t doubt it,” Krogoth says, rubbing his leg, sharing a knowing smile with Rocks.

“And the delightful Tyrxie...” The Imperator smiles, pointing a finger at the stiffening, grey-streaked Consul Catokar. “What was her species again?”

“ Human! ” Princesa snaps, still petting the softly glowing Todd. “You should come visit Earth some time. They’d freak out when Papa Smurf comes down from a spaceship instead of a mushroom.”

The meaning eludes me. But Sandra erupts into laughter, pink skin reddening as she buries her face in her hands. Even Rocks snorts.

“Yes... humans, ” Catokar drawls, eyeing Princesa suspiciously. “From planet Earth. Primitive. No Elerium deposits. Deemed... irrelevant.”

“ Rude, ” Princesa grumbles.

“That irrelevant human Tyrxie somehow cured me,” the Imperator says sharply, cutting across them.

“Cured what our greatest Nebian physicians could not.” He glares at the others, forcing their gazes to waver.

Whether in fear or shame, I can’t tell. “There’s something about her.

A... kindness. Something pure. Even now, it touches me. ” He places a hand over his heart.

He spreads his arms dramatically. “Then I arrived on the battlefield—and what do I see?” He turns to Catokar. “ Black holes? ”

“Um... not quite, Imperator,” Catokar replies stiffly. “We’ve not been able to ascertain their nature.”

“See?” The Imperator throws up his hands. “ Blind. Willfully ignorant . A violation of Leoxius’ First Principle. Ask yourself—how did Xandor move like light? How did Tyrxie heal me? The strange vortexes that obliterated the enemy. And why did the Fallen Scythians suddenly deactivate for a time?”

He holds up a finger, silencing even Juliara’s eye-roll.

“Before you speak of ‘ gods’ or ‘sky spirits’ —know this: we know of your war masks. We’ve seen their signals. We’ve tracked the energy. Advanced technology. Not spells. Not magic. It is my belief, though some disagree.”

His white eyebrows darken at Consul Juliara.

“That you harbor ancient weaponry. Perhaps unknown even to yourselves. A hidden, higher caste guiding you? Secret conditional war mask attacks?” He leans forward on his floating disc, eyes glowing like hungry suns.

“Name your price. Elerium? A fleet? A system? Say the word. Share your secrets. The universe demands answers.”

Krogoth smiles slowly, raising an empty hand. “I didn’t bring my warvisor.”

He pulls Rocks closer, both of their eyes flaring with violet-hazel fumes.

“Only our bond. Only the Gods.”

Then— above .

An orb appears.

Small. Dark. It pulses, shimmering with cosmic hues, light bending and curling around it like a star collapsing. The air shifts. Sound distorts.

Despite its size, it hums with unthinkable force— potential . As if grown larger, it could consume this room, this ship, this system .

I reach instinctively, catching Princesa’s tiny human frame as it tugs at her hair, Todd clinging tightly like a brooch.

“Imperator’s balls !” The Imperator gasps, nearly tumbling from his disc. Around him, chaos erupts. The irksome, high-pitched airy music dies as the musicians abandon their instruments. Nobles duck. Even warriors falter—retreating toward exits with haste unbecoming of warriors.

Only the two purple Battlesuits hold fast. One levels a cannon and opens fire—crimson bolts vanish mid-air, twisted and unraveled by the gravitational maw.

“I could stop it,” Princesa murmurs sweetly, fluttering lashes at me. “But you’ll have to give me a little sip of that yummy, Mr. Frowny Face, bond juice,” she purrs, eyebrows bouncing suggestively.

She lies. Nothing can stop this—the power to unmake reality itself.

Then, just as suddenly, it vanishes.

“Krogoth Star-Eyes!” Chief Borrthak drops to his knees, arms outstretched, eyes lifted skyward. “The Gods walk among us!”

Krogoth stands proud and tall, his black cloak swirling in the cosmic wake beside the pure white of Rocks’. They are radiant together, twin pillars of might and grace. The jeweled horns of his crown gleam in the orange and blue glow of the dual stars above.

A regal figure—a High Chieftain in truth.

The greatest... if not for me.

Will he submit to a vote? Or face me as a mortal? My fists tighten, Rush seething molten hot beneath my skin at the thought of such a brutal contest. At last, a foe worthy of my fury.

The Nebians’ frantic muttering dies down, their fear and confusion fading.

“They should all shave their heads in shame!” Voryx, Second of Clan Aquaxus snorts, doubled over in laughter. Others join him—some mocking, some unsettled.

Up on the balcony, the Imperator grips the edge of his perch. Pale-blue knuckles strain over smooth stone. Over the precipice, his celestial collar is setting, reality now dawning on his false assumptions and ambitions.

“What... how?” he whispers, orange eyes blinking rapidly as he peers past the railing. “Poof from thin air... just like that—the power to devour suns. ” He shakes his head, gaze landing on Krogoth. “By the twin suns, I’m just grateful you didn’t unleash this... ability during our war.”

He chuckles dryly—but there’s nothing light in the sound.

“Seeing this only affirms my strategy,” he mutters, eyes glowing with renewed urgency. “The Warrior of Peace—Xandor—urged me to dismantle our NeuroLinks systems. He claimed it was only a matter of time before the Fallen would compromise the network. He spoke of things with... unsettling certainty.”

His words draw scattered mutters from the now-recovering Nebians.

“He told me of things he shouldn’t have known.

I didn’t listen. I see now, they’ve come to pass.

As will his NeuroLink prediction.” The Imperator lifts his gaze.

“Together, as allies, I propose we pursue the Fallen into their core systems. First, we strike Sothis Prime . With my fleet. Your powers, we’ll crush them before they can regroup. ”

“Sothis Prime is no more,” I growl, savoring the memory of those cold, dead worlds of metal engulfed in oceans of searing plasma. Planetary rings of smoldering wreckage—their silent graveyard. “Reduced to ash by my wrath.”

The room freezes. Gasps ripple across the chamber.

“You jest,” the Imperator says, frowning. “Our intel—limited as it is—marks Sothis as their primary manufacturing nexus. Billions of vessels, an industrial fortress. You’d need a fleet larger than—”

“Two warships,” I interrupt.

Silence.

“Within the Crucible, I faced the Voidbringer.” My fists clench, bones creaking beneath my strength. “It tried to break me. But together with the Gods,” I nod to Princesa, “we imprisoned it. Long enough for vengeance. Long enough to rescue the clones and Revered Mothers.”

Krogoth’s gaze sharpens, understanding. He’s seen the truth through the Mortakin-Tok. The others frown, confusion and disbelief painting their expressions.