Page 18 of Sy (Alien Berserkers of Izaea #2)

18

T he cavern entrance gaped before him, darker than space itself. Kraath’s boots crunched on loose gravel, each step raising small clouds of dust that danced in the weak illumination from the guard’s torch. Something tickled his senses here—not quite a smell, not quite a feeling. His first incarnation would have recognized it instantly, but for him it was like remembering someone else’s dream.

“Commander.” The guard held himself with the easy readiness of a veteran, weapon held in a relaxed but ready position. His gaze darted between Kraath and the ceiling where spider web cracks traced ominous patterns. “The tremors are getting worse. In the last hour alone…” His voice trailed off as another shower of pebbles cascaded down between them.

A deep vibration filled the silence, one Kraath could feel in his bones. Dust sifted down in a continuous stream now, catching what little light reached into the entrance. The entire cavern groaned like a dying beast.

“The entire system is compromised,” the guard said in warning. “Engineering reports suggest structural failure is imminent. Perhaps we should seal this section until?—”

“No.” The word came out sharper than he’d intended, but he didn’t soften it. The guard’s assessment was accurate enough. The risk was real. But he hadn’t spent lifetimes searching, hadn’t dedicated his first incarnation to understanding these fragments of alien technology, to turn back now. Not when the largest cache he’d ever encountered waited just beyond that threshold.

Another tremor rippled through the rock, stronger than the last. Dust rained down, coating his shoulders in a fine, gritty layer. The guard shifted his weight, compensating for the movement beneath their feet.

“Commander, at least allow me to summon additional warriors. If the ceiling?—”

“That won’t be necessary.” He kept his voice level, professional. But beneath that calm exterior, anticipation coiled in his gut. This was more technology than his first incarnation had ever discovered, more than all the precious fragments he’d studied combined. “I understand the risks. I’ll be careful.”

The guard’s expression suggested he wanted to argue further, but years of military discipline held his tongue. He settled for a respectful nod, stepping aside.

The threshold between tunnel and cavern marked more than just physical space. He felt it the moment he crossed over—a shift in pressure, in the quality of darkness itself. That almost-familiar sensation grew stronger here, mixing with the musty smell of ancient stone.

Behind him, the guard cleared his throat. “Commander? Engineering was quite specific. If you hear any sustained cracking sounds, or if the tremors increase in frequency?—”

“Evacuate immediately. Yes, yes, I know the protocols.”

Kraath didn’t turn around. His attention had already shifted to what lay ahead, to the faint alien glow that marked the beginning of something his first incarnation had only theorized about. “Return to your post. I won’t be long.”

He took another step forward and another. A deep rumble shook the cavern, stronger than before. His hand shot out to steady himself against cool, rough stone—natural rock. Not what awaited him ahead. Small cascades of debris rained down from above, creating a sound like falling rain.

The guard called out something, but he was already moving deeper, his steps quick and purposeful. The instability was a concern, yes, but a distant one compared to what waited ahead. He had waited too long, spent too many lives pursuing understanding, to let a little geological instability stop him now.

His heart beat faster with each step, anticipation and trepidation warring in his chest. Soon, he would have answers. Soon, he would understand what his first incarnation had only glimpsed in fragments and pieces.

Whether he would like those answers… well, that was another question entirely.

The alien technology consumed the entire wall of the cavern. Kraath stopped dead, his breath catching. In the past he’d had to work with mere fragments—a panel here, a component there. Precious pieces small enough to fit in his palm.

But this… was beyond anything he’d imagined. The wall stretched up into darkness, seamlessly melded with natural rock as if the mountain had grown around it. Or as if something massive had been buried here, swallowed by stone and time.

“Legion,” he murmured, the word echoing. His first incarnation’s memories stirred, fragmented but insistent. Hours spent studying similar components under laboratory conditions, enduring mockery from his fellow princes. The odd one out, they’d called him. The bookworm prince who cared more for ancient history and genetic theory than military glory.

His fingers brushed the smooth surface, tracing patterns that felt familiar yet alien. The technology thrummed with latent energy, a sensation he knew from his first incarnation’s work but magnified a hundredfold. Back then, he’d been obsessed with understanding not just Latharian history but the mysteries of every species that had left traces in their corner of space.

And then he’d used that knowledge to fight the worst threat his people had ever known.

And his people had used his techniques for countless generations, adapting themselves for every new environment they faced and making themselves into the ultimate warriors.

He rubbed a hand over his face, his jaw tight. How had he been to know they’d somehow manage to draanth it up? He’d been so careful with his initial processes, so precise with his genetic manipulations. “Idiots should have been more careful,” he murmured to himself. “Should have tested more, checked for genetic drift before it became too widespread.”

But they hadn’t. And now the legion rode in Lathar blood, a legacy he’d never meant to leave.

He moved forward and a section of panels caught his attention, their design nigglingly familiar. His first incarnation had studied something similar—a fragment barely larger than his thumb. He’d spent weeks analyzing it, documenting every curve and connection. The other princes had laughed then, called his obsession with alien artifacts a waste of time.

But they hadn’t laughed when the first of the new enemy warships appeared.

They hadn’t laughed when their conventional weapons proved useless.

They hadn’t laughed when they’d come to him, desperate for a solution.

A faint sound caught his attention—the soft hum of technology coming to life. Panic shot through him, and he jerked his hand away. The panels were activating, their surface beginning to glow with an inner light. His heart hammered against his ribs. No. It couldn’t be responding to him. He tested himself weekly, obsessively, for any trace of legion DNA. He couldn’t be?—

Realization hit as he sensed movement behind him. The panels weren’t responding to him at all.

“I wondered how long it would take you,” he said, his voice steady despite the relief flooding through him.

He turned, already knowing what he would see.

The youngling, Tor, stood in the shadows behind him. His bearing had changed, become something other than human. Something ancient and alien gazed out through his eyes.

The legion had arrived.

“Welcome back, First One.”

The voice that emerged from Tor’s throat wasn’t the youngling’s. It resonated with harmonics that shouldn’t have been possible from any biological form. The glow from the panels cast strange shadows across his features, turning the familiar Izaean appearance into an unsettling mask.

Kraath’s muscles tensed. Every line of Tor’s altered body spoke of contained power, of something vast compressed into physical form. The legion presence rolled off him in waves, prickling against Kraath’s skin.

“How long?” Kraath demanded in a harsh voice. “How long have you been aware?”

Tor’s head tilted at an angle that looked painful, the movement too smooth to be natural. The legion gazed out through his eyes, turning them into wells of ancient knowledge.

“We have always been aware, First One. Through every generation since your creation changed the path of your species.” The legion’s voice held no accusation, which somehow made it worse. “We watched. We waited.”

Anger surged through Kraath, hot and sharp. All those years of careful research in his first incarnation, all those precise calculations, and still he’d missed this. Had been blind to the true nature of what he’d unleashed. “You should have made yourselves known.”

“Would you have listened, First One? You who sought to use our methods against your enemy?” A sound emerged from Tor’s throat, something between a laugh and a snort. “We served our purpose. We serve still. But now…” Tor’s body shifted, the movement liquid smooth. “Now the weapon must be brought online. Danger approaches.”

“What danger?” Kraath took a step forward. “If you know what’s coming, be clear.”

The legion’s presence seemed to expand, filling the cavern with invisible pressure. “The southern fortress was only the beginning—a ripple in a vast ocean. What comes now…” Tor’s head tilted again, his eyes reflecting the pulsing light. “What comes now will devour everything if we do not stand ready.”

“That’s not an answer.” Kraath’s hands clenched into fists. Part of him wanted to grab Tor, to shake the truth out of him, but he knew better than to touch a feral Izaean.

“It is the only answer we can give, First One.” Tor’s body took a step forward. “Your work opened a door that cannot be closed. Now you will help us fight the darkness that comes.”

The words hung between them, heavy with prophecy and threat.

“And if I refuse?”

Tor’s lips curved in a smile that had nothing of the Izaean warrior in it. “You will not refuse, First One. You cannot. You have always known this day would come.”

The legion’s certainty scraped against Kraath’s nerves like a blade. Deep down, he’d known. He’d always known that his work with legion technology was just the beginning of something that could turn out vast and terrible.

The panels pulsed brighter, their light casting Tor’s shadow in multiple directions. “The weapon must be brought online,” it repeated. “Time grows short, First One. The evolution of your species was only the beginning. The question is not if but when. And how many will be left standing when it does.”

Kraath stared into Tor’s altered eyes, seeing in them the price of his first incarnation’s ambition. The cost of experimenting with forces he’d only partially understood. And now, centuries later, those forces had come to collect their due.

The cavern trembled around them, a reminder of its instability. But Kraath barely noticed. His attention was fixed on the entity wearing Tor’s flesh and the terrible certainty that his past had finally caught up with him.

The legion waited for his answer, patient as only an immortal thing could be. It knew, as he did, that he could only make one choice.

What his first incarnation had started, he would have to finish.

Whether that meant salvation or destruction remained to be seen.

She didn’t want to wake up. She was too comfortable.

Awareness crept back slowly, each breath drawing Ashley further from sleep. Heat radiated against her back, solid and masculine, while a heavy arm draped possessively around her waist. The scent of ozone and spice—Sy’s distinct signature—wrapped around her, mingled now with muskier undertones that brought heat to her cheeks as fragments of the previous night flickered through her mind.

The silken sheets whispered against bare skin as she floated in that hazy space between dreams and reality. Her body ached in ways that made her pulse quicken, each small movement a reminder of passionate hours spent in her alien warrior’s arms.

Reality crystallized with brutal clarity: Sy’s quarters, his bed, his arms.

His arms.

The peaceful fog evaporated as another memory surfaced—the last time she’d woken in his embrace, deep in those cursed caves. The legion symbiont had been in control then, turning her fierce, honorable warrior into something else entirely. Those blood-red eyes, cold and predatory, still haunted her darker moments.

She forced air into her lungs, one measured breath after another. The arm around her waist remained relaxed, heavy with genuine sleep. No tension thrummed through the powerful body pressed against her back, no sense of that other presence that had possessed him before. But there hadn’t been any warning before.

With careful movements, she twisted within his embrace until she could study his features. The sight stole her breath. His dirty blond hair spilled across the dark pillows, and sleep had stripped away his usual stern command presence, revealing something younger, almost innocent. The sharp angles of his face had softened, full lips curved in the barest suggestion of contentment.

Heat bloomed across her skin as memories cascaded through her mind—those same lips blazing trails of fire down her throat, her fingers tangled in his hair while he murmured soft promises against her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images only grew more vivid, more intense.

When she opened them again, she couldn’t help but trace his features with her gaze. Even unconscious, power radiated from him like heat from a fusion core. The corded muscles of his shoulders, the sharp line of his jaw—everything about him spoke of lethal capability barely contained. She’d witnessed exactly how dangerous he could be and had seen enough to understand the raw power he kept carefully leashed.

Yet here he was, holding her like she was made of spun glass.

The realization hit her with the force of a plasma cannon…

Holy shit, she was falling in love with an alien.

Not just any alien, but a genetically engineered warrior from a species that had, until recently, been humanity’s greatest existential threat. A man who carried another consciousness within him and who could kill with terrifying efficiency.

Her heart clenched painfully. What did she truly know about Izaean customs regarding relationships? Did they even have them? Sy had said Izaeans didn’t breed, so did they even have relationships in that way? Looking back, he spoke of his future as if it held nothing but duty and combat, as if he expected—or intended—to live and die by the sword. The thought sent daggers of ice through her chest. Would he even want her? Want this? Or was she merely a pleasant diversion, a warm body to pass the time with until duty called him back to the stars?

Without conscious thought, she reached out to brush a strand of hair from his face. The silken strands slipped through her fingers like liquid metal, and Sy’s lips curved into a deeper smile. His eyes fluttered open, revealing familiar red irises warmed with something that made her breath catch. Before she could withdraw, he caught her wrist and pressed a kiss to her palm. Heat curled through her belly at the tender gesture.

In one fluid motion, he tugged her closer against his broad chest. His mouth found hers, the kiss soft and unhurried, tasting of promise and passion barely banked. His hand slid up her back, leaving trails of warmth in its wake, and she melted into him with a contented sigh.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with sleep.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Hey yourself.”

“How did you sleep?” His fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine, making coherent thought nearly impossible.

“Terrible,” she managed, fighting to keep her expression serious even as pleasure coursed through her veins. “This very handsome, very insistent guy kept me awake all night.”

A wicked grin spread across his face, lazy heat kindling in his eyes. “All night, huh?” His hand settled possessively on her hip. “Can I get you to tell all the others that?”

The sharp chirp of his comm device cut through the air like a plasma blade. The playful warmth in his expression vanished, replaced by lethal focus as he reached for the device.

The comm chirped again, more insistent. The display flashed with alien symbols before Sy answered, “Sir.”

“Sy.” Kraath’s deep voice carried clearly through the comm. “A warship just entered the system.”

Sy’s body coiled against hers like a predator preparing to strike. “Hostile?”

“Purist.”

Ashley felt the change ripple through Sy like an electrical storm. His face transformed into a mask of fierce intensity she’d never witnessed before, all trace of sleep obliterated in an instant.

“How long?” The words emerged like shards of ice.

“Now. Get to the command center . ”

“Yes, sir.”

Sy exploded into motion as the comm cut off, practically launching himself from the bed. “Get dressed,” he ordered, already pulling on his own clothes with lethal efficiency. “ Now. ”

Ashley scrambled to comply, confusion and worry churning in her gut. “What’s going on?” She grabbed for her scattered clothing, trying to track his movements as he armed himself with practiced precision.

“A Latharian warship is entering orbit,” he said, checking his weapons with sharp, economical movements.

“But aren’t you guys Lathar as well?” She pulled her shirt over her head, watching as his jaw clenched tightly enough to crack stone. “Why would they be here?”

“Yeah, but we’re mutations.” His voice carried an edge that could have cut through battleplate. “And they’re Purist scum. The only reason they would be here would be to kill people like me and Tor.”