Page 44 of Scorching the Alien Empire (The Klendathian Cycle #7)

I waste no time, scooping her into the crook of my arm, I take off. Her squeal of delighted shock a pleasure even in this, the darkest of days.

Princesa wriggles, shifting until she finds her most comfortable spot—her rightful place in her second home: my arms. Her sweet, feminine scent lingers, her delicate softness almost enough to cleanse the lingering visions of torment and pain the machine inflicted.

My armored boots pound against the black marble floors in a relentless rhythm. We race through the labyrinthine bowels of my new ship, corridors and stairwells blurring past in a desperate surge of motion.

“Drexios?” I project the thought, sliding my warvisor over my face. My senses sharpen, awareness flooding through me.

“War Chief, the Scythians forgot to pay their Elerium bill,” Drexios retorts, his thoughts laced with amusement. “They’re all voiding deactivated.”

Yes!

The Goddess has weakened the Voidbringer. Weakened the Scythians.

Now’s my chance. The enemy’s throat lies exposed, plump and helpless within my claws. I need only tighten my grip for their lifeblood to spill.

A wicked grin reveals my fangs. “Alert all forces. Shields up. Open fire—maximum force. Exterminate their drones, annihilate their Voidbanes, destroy their networks, bombard their planets. Leave no trace.”

Drexios does not respond immediately. “Have you been raiding the cultist’s scoomer collection?” His thoughts ring with disbelief.

“Do as I command!” I bellow through the warvisor. “Question me again, and I’ll feast on your other eye!”

“You don’t want eyes for where we’re headed,” he replies, amused, yet resigned. “Charging weapons.”

“Quickly.” Impatience crackles through me like a barely contained storm.

The Goddess’s parting warning echoes in my mind, a hazy dream—“ The Voidbringer will soon escape. It will seek retribution .”

More reason to defang it now—before it lashes out. This is but one system spanning a vast galactic empire. Yet, a bloodied, broken nose will be enough to give the beast pause. Enough to make it fear what comes next.

“And one for you, little chug bug.” Princesa coos, smearing a streak of ash onto Todd’s overstuffed, segmented head, daring to occupy a space on her supple shoulder.

“Scourge the jelly-sticks, embrace the chunk. Let the poops be reborn away from my divine presence.” She nods solemnly, despite Todd shaking his head and clacking his mandibles in protest.

A deep vibration rattles through the ship, reverberating through the dark corridors. The first shots fired. A fight for freedom. Honor demanding retribution, no matter the cost.

Will history condemn or condone my actions? Will any live to tell the tale, or will my vengeance be swallowed by the void, lost to time?

Princesa gasps, her gaze darting around as I charge forward.

“Um... what the hell was that?” She strokes Todd’s rubbery body for comfort, unease threading through her voice.

“I hope you just ordered an attack with that big, scary mask of yours and we’re not about to be turned into goo—because wee Toddy Woddy just got blessed by his grandmother Aenarael.

” She nuzzles the cyloillar, her pitch rising again.

“And we wouldn’t want to disappoint her, now, would we? ”

“Grandmother Aenarael?” I echo in disbelief, my voice rising above the rhythmic thudding zaps reverberating through the ship. “The Goddess?”

“Yep,” Princesa replies with unnerving nonchalance.

“See for yourself.” She plucks the bloated creature from her shoulder with a grunt, its singular black eye reflecting the harsh angles of my warvisor.

Then, a faint glow catches my attention—a silver rune etched into Todd’s rubbery flesh. A single word: Mirror.

A warning? A prophecy? That the Gods act so openly would be beyond belief had I not witnessed it with my own eyes.

“It was Aenarael... she’s the one who sealed the Voidbringer,” I mutter, my frown hidden behind my warvisor. With a smooth motion, I detach the mask and clip it to my belt of bones.

Like all the Gods except Arawnoth, I know little of her. Favored by the Virennix Clan, those of the frozen tundras of Aroth. Yet she wielded something akin to mercury, not frost. Unbelievably beautiful, ever-shifting, a thing of raw power and uncanny grace. She succeeded where Arawnoth failed.

“Way to go, Aenarael!” Princesa cheers, pride bursting through our bond.

“I mean, I don’t want to brag or anything, but.

.. I might’ve basically saved the entire universe.

” She stretches lazily, limbs unfolding like a venefex at play.

“She’s my actual Goddess... my divine mother.

” Her voice trails off, her gaze drifting as we continue to race through the endless corridors of my colossal ship.

“Don’t get me wrong—she was a real bitch at the start,” she continues, shaking herself from the reverie.

“Ah, Babes, it was so random . She turned me into a bloody moth and then had me eaten by a massive red dragon... I think it might have been you ... or something close enough. Insane, right? But I guess she was testing me, because after we beat her in a dragon battle, she decided to help us. Aenarael foretold of Arawnoth’s defeat.

.. of his death ... I couldn’t let that happen. ”

My mind reels at her revelations, a blurt of confusing words, each more unbelievable than the last. But one thing is clear—Ignixis could have lived.

Anger burns through my veins, hot and seething.

“Foretold—and yet she did nothing?! Ignixis died for nothing. A sacrifice wasted. A fate that could have been stopped!” I snarl, the loss cutting deeper, the claw twisting sharper. Even he was misled, a mere plaything of entities beyond comprehension. A cruel truth, too bitter to swallow.

“That’s not true. Look!”

Princesa gestures ahead. The oncoming viewport floods the black marble walls with rippling azure light, pulsing in sync with the battle’s distant reverberations.

I halt.

Outside, the void is a maelstrom of carnage.

Plasma blasts streak across the abyss like sapphire suns, smashing into motionless Scythian drones and Voidbanes.

Two of the behemoths are already torn open, their jagged hulls aglow with molten blue.

Infernos erupt with each impact, only to be snuffed out instantly by the vacuum.

Still, the Voidbanes lurch like wounded beasts, their vast forms venting their guts into the emptiness.

My Rush stirs at the glorious sight, my claws itching to spill blood.

The pulsing green lattice network flickers and dies, its machine nodes drifting lifelessly, deformed by relentless fire.

My myriad Shorthair vessels weave through the wreckages, with their inferior weapons, raining destruction upon the helpless drones.

Stripped of their plasma shields, the enemy is torn apart with ruthless efficiency.

Before long, the sector resembles a scrapheap of twisted and broken metal, a constellation glinting like jagged stars—a tomb of Scythians—one of many to come.

“ This is why Mother told me to wait,” Princesa says, her eyes alight with the same savage joy thrumming in my veins. “She said the Voidbringer would be distracted feasting on Arawnoth... otherwise, it might have avoided her. You know, because it knew she’d kick its ass.”

Our ship tilts, aligning above a Scythian world. Plasma torrents pour from its batteries, a relentless barrage washing over the void. Even my old Battlebarge lumbers into position, its cannon muzzles flaring molten blue.

Blast after blast rains down upon the dead planet below. Towering spires breaching the upper atmosphere buckle, then collapse, succumbing to the molten death. They slough apart, reduced to mere slag.

Is this what Ignixis’s sacrifice has brought? Is it enough?

He promised the death of the dreamless night. A prophecy delayed, but inevitable. One he set in motion—one I must finish.

I will not fail his memory. His dream. Our people’s revenge.

“What the hell happened in the Crucible, Babes?” Princesa’s voice drags me back to the present.

I resume my blistering charge, racing toward my throne room. Every second is crucial. Warriors pause mid-step, clustered around viewports, their hard eyes reflecting the destruction outside. Their claws twitch. Their fangs bare in anticipation.

Good. They have longed for this.

“The machine tried to break me,” I say coldly, the memory of its torment sending a shiver down my spine.

What lasted only moments in reality felt like days in that abyssal realm of suffering.

“It showed me things... our females butchered like boracks. Worse—experimented on. That I am a clone. A twisted mockery of life.” My voice falters, my fury reigniting like a sun reborn.

“I will see it die a thousand deaths for this sacrilege.”

Princesa’s gaze drops. Absentmindedly, she traces the rune on Todd’s back.

“How do you know it wasn’t just messing with your head?

” She meets my eyes, hope flickering in her voice.

“I mean, I know how stubborn your Mr. Frowny Face is. If I were the Voidbringer, I’d use every dirty trick I could think of.

Did it show you anything you know wasn’t true? ”

“Much,” I admit. The faintest ember of hope sparks at her words. “It showed me future events. A glory twisted by machinery. A threat of annihilation. It felt real—as if I was there in the flesh.”

The vision of Princesa’s brutalized lifeless body springs to mind with savage intensity. Both chilling and rage-inducing in equal measure.

Her fingers brush the hard lines of my jaw, grounding me. She senses my fury through our bond. “Don’t worry, Babes.” She purrs beneath sultry lashes. “We are divine. It can’t harm us.” A sharp laugh escapes her lips.

“Yet Arawnoth’s flames were nearly extinguished,” I remind her. The admission tastes like ash. What was once unbreakable now feels fragile, uncertain.

My words wash over her. “Who’s to say?” she muses, shrugging, jostling the pointless Todd from his lazy slumber. “Maybe Arawnoth set this whole thing up?”

No. I witnessed Arawnoth’s galaxy-ending breath. Saw how he nearly extinguished himself, mere moments from oblivion before Aenarael intervened. His were the actions of the desperate or the unthinking—a force of nature, a sun setting.

I remain silent. Let her cling to her blazing faith.

“Anyways,” Princesa waves a dismissive hand, her bond rings glinting in the dim purple light. “I bet the Voidbringer was lying. Ah, such a shame we can’t uncover the—”

“I know its location,” I interrupt, the words spilling forth of their own accord.

The vivid image of a colossal space station snaps into focus with crystalline clarity. A hulking black monolith carved with glyphs and ancient statues lost in the vastness of space. Built by the true Scythians before they were snuffed out.

It lies not far, two sectors en route toward Argon Six.

The knowledge sears into me, a scar left by the Voidbringer’s tormenting visions. That is where it processed our females two hundred years ago. Where it still replicates clones to bolster our forces to this day.

Is it worth the risk? Chasing answers when time is so precious?

Doubt flares through Princesa’s side of our bond, quick and sharp.

“Oh. Really? ” Princesa’s voice is light, feigning casual disbelief. “Well, we should definitely scope the place out later .” She glances up at me, searching my face, her wide eyes assessing. “Right, Babes?”

“Wrong,” I growl, suppressing a flicker of annoyance at her manipulation. Pretending she truly believed me not a clone. Pointless. Whatever I was is irrelevant—I am the harbinger of the Scythians’ destruction. Their weapon of control. Now backfiring with divine vengeance.

Ahead, the immense doors of my throne room loom.

A decision made. The gambler’s choice.

“I have a fleet to fill.”