Page 20 of Sy (Alien Berserkers of Izaea #2)

20

T hey were too late.

They couldn’t be too late.

Sy’s heart pounded as he raced through the garrison’s corridors, each echo hammering home the wrongness of the silence. No voices carried from the common areas. No equipment hummed behind closed doors. The halls that should have bustled with activity stretched empty before him, abandoned and cold.

His pulse thundered in his throat as they ran. They had to reach Lila before that shuttle left, before Ashley could whisk her daughter away to safety. She didn’t know the girl was their only chance against the Purists’ weapon. He felt awful that she was, and what they had to ask of her, but they did.

Tor, Kraath, and Zeke matched his pace, their footfalls creating a desperate rhythm that bounced off the stone walls. Ashley’s face from the command meeting flashed through his mind—the way fury had transformed her features when he’d dismissed human strength. Insulted her. He’d seen trust shatter in her eyes, to be replaced by something harder, colder. The memory twisted in his gut like a knife, but he forced it aside.

Later. He would fix that later, if she gave him the chance.

They tore through the main hall, their steps ringing out against the stone floor. It was empty. Completely empty.

The humans had left. Ashley had left.

His lungs burned as he raced for the main doors, but he pushed harder. The entrance waited ahead, and beyond it, the steep road down to the landing pads.

The storm slammed into them as soon as they burst through the doors. Rain lashed his face, soaking his clothes in seconds. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the treacherous descent—a mud-slick path down the cliff face, littered with loose rocks and debris. The wind howled around them, carrying the distant clang of machinery from below.

His boots slipped on the wet earth as he sprinted down the incline. Sharp rock bit into his palm as he caught himself, the pain barely registering. His thoughts raced ahead to the landing pads, to what waited for them there. Thunder cracked overhead as a section of mud gave way beneath their feet. Pure reflex had him grabbing Kraath’s arm, steadying them both before the slope could claim them.

The construction site spread before them like a graveyard of machinery, its earthquake damage partially cleared but still bearing scars. Makeshift paths wound between stacked debris and salvaged equipment. Through the rain, humans worked with focused intensity around the remaining machinery. The sharp whine of cutting torches pierced the air, and sparks flew despite the downpour as they methodically broke down larger pieces into smaller components.

His instincts prickled as they threaded their way through the site. The humans should have been loading everything onto shuttles, but they weren’t. Instead, they seemed to be dismantling it piece by piece.

He frowned. What the hell were they doing? The question nagged at him, but he pushed forward. No time to investigate. Not with Lila waiting.

The path curved around a massive drilling platform, its hydraulic arms reaching up like a dead spider’s legs against the storm-dark sky. Beyond it, the shuttle pad finally came into view.

Relief flooded him as he spotted the shuttle, its running lights cutting through the rain like beacons.

Lila stood near the shuttle’s ramp, her face streaked with tears as she clung to Ashley’s arm. Ashley’s other hand smoothed back Lila’s rain-soaked hair as she spoke quietly to her daughter, too soft for him to hear over the storm. The tenderness of the gesture contrasted sharply with the rigid set of Ashley’s shoulders, the tension visible in every line of her body.

Thunder cracked overhead. Ashley looked up, catching sight of them. Her expression hardened, that same steel entering her eyes that he had seen in the command room as they approached.

Lila pulled away from her mother, wiping at her eyes. “I don’t want to go without you,” she said, her voice carrying on the wind like a child’s plea.

“You have to, baby,” Ashley said, her tone firm despite the tremor in her fingers as they brushed Lila’s cheek. “The shuttle’s waiting.”

Sy stepped forward, rain streaming down his face. “What do you mean you don’t want to go without her? She’s going with you. Right?” He turned to Ashley, dread building in his chest at her expression. “Right?”

Ashley’s jaw set in a stubborn line that made his heart clench. “Some of us are staying.”

“Staying?” The word came out sharp as broken glass. “No! Ashley?—”

“We can help.” Her voice held the same conviction it had in the command room, unwavering and determined. “Some of us know this equipment better than anyone. We’re not running. We’re reconfiguring the excavation equipment into weaponry.”

He looked back at the construction site, at the humans systematically breaking down the machinery with their cutting torches, their grim focus suddenly making terrible sense.

The humans weren’t leaving… They were preparing to fight.

She was not going to deal with Sy right now. She couldn’t.

The rain hammered against Ashley’s skin as Tor appeared at Sy’s elbow. His crimson eyes locked on to her. Instantly, she knew this was not Tor but the creature who lived inside him.

“You need to understand something.” His damaged voice was like the growl of metal against metal. “Your daughter is the trigger for the weapon.”

Lightning fractured the sky, casting the construction site in stark relief. It was like this weather was trying to do them in as much as the aliens about to land.

“Weapon? What weapon?” Her hand tightened on Lila’s shoulder. What should she do? How could she protect her daughter from this?

“The one buried beneath the surface of this planet. A fail-safe.” Tor tilted his head, studying her through those blood-red eyes. “It requires a specific neural pattern to activate.” His voice remained steady, as if he wasn’t destroying her world with each word.

“Your daughter’s mind now holds that pattern. Without her, the weapon is useless. With her, we have a chance against those who would destroy us.”

Her breathing quickened, her free hand curling into a fist. How many times had she told Lila that everything would be okay? That she would always keep her safe?

“You want to use my daughter as a weapon?”

“Mom. I want to help.” Lila’s voice cut through her rising panic, stronger than Ashley had ever heard it. She stepped away from the shuttle’s shelter, the rain instantly soaking her through. The calm confidence in her eyes… When had her little girl grown so tall, so brave?

“No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not. You’re getting on that shuttle.”

“But you’re staying to fight,” Lila said, her chin lifting in that stubborn way she’d had since she was tiny. The same determination had gotten her through every challenge, every setback. “Why can’t I help too? I’m not a child anymore.”

She stared at her daughter, seeing her for the first time. Gone was the little girl who’d crawled into her bed during thunderstorms. In her place stood a young woman with steel in her spine and fire in her eyes. The silence stretched between them.

Her throat tight with fear and something that felt uncomfortably like pride, she turned back to Tor.

“Will my daughter be safe?”

Tor met her gaze without flinching. “As much as any of us will be safe. She is the trigger now. If her body dies, she will continue as legion.”

The words hit her like a shuttle at speed, and she reached instinctively for Lila, finding only empty air as her daughter moved closer to Tor.

“That’s not exactly a comfort.” Her voice cracked slightly.

Tor’s expression softened. “All legion here would lay down their lives to ensure her survival. She will be protected.”

Two strides brought her face-to-face with him, close enough to see the inhuman patterns in his crimson eyes.

“If anything happens to her,” she breathed, surprising herself with the deadly calm in her voice, “I don’t care how immortal you think you are. I’ll find a way to make you suffer for every second of your endless existence. Do you understand?”

His lips quirked slightly, amusement in his eyes. He inclined his head.

“Perfectly. I would expect no less. I can see where your offspring gets her strength.”

Ashley turned back to Lila, a dozen protests on the tip of her tongue, but the woman standing before her wasn’t the little girl who needed those warnings anymore. She managed a single nod, and the tension in Lila’s shoulders melted away.

Her daughter’s arms wrapped around her in a fierce embrace that threatened to shatter what remained of her composure. She held on tightly, trying to memorize everything about this moment: the way Lila’s shoulders felt under her hands, the warmth of her despite their soaked clothes, the steady beat of her heart.

“I love you,” Lila whispered against her neck before pulling away.

Ashley forced herself to stand still as her daughter walked away with Kal and Tor, her steps steady despite the mud that tried to pull her down. The storm lashed at Lila’s small frame, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t look back. Pride and terror warred in Ashley’s chest as she watched her daughter disappear into the rain.

Every instinct screamed at her to run after Lila, but she stood rigid, rain coursing down her face and masking the tears she refused to acknowledge. Then Sy’s voice cut through the downpour.

“Ashley, I—” He paused, and she could hear him struggling for words. “What I said before, in the meeting. I was wrong. About human strength. About everything.”

The rain traced cold paths down her face as she considered his words. She thought of his dismissive tone in the meeting, the way he’d talked about human weakness as if they were all just pawns in the legion’s game. Now her daughter was walking into danger, showing more courage than any of them had expected. More courage than Ashley herself felt capable of in this moment.

When she finally turned to face him, she made sure her voice was as steady as Lila’s steps had been.

“Prove it,” she said and then walked away, leaving him with the storm. The rain continued to fall, but Ashley didn’t feel it anymore.

She had work to do, and her daughter had shown her how to be brave.

Whatever Sy had expected from the Purist attack, it hadn’t been this… calculated. The shuttles punched through the cloud cover, their engines screaming as they descended. He’d barely had time to get everyone into position, the evacuation alarms still echoing across the construction site.

“Hold positions!” His command cut through the acrid smoke as his gaze swept the defensive line.

The first shuttle hit the ground with enough force to shake the earth, its massive frame casting long shadows. The second and third followed, landing struts crushing debris beneath them in a triangle formation.

Perfect. They’d positioned their defenses expecting this—standard Purist assault tactics.

“Steady!” he called as hydraulics hissed and metal groaned. The shuttles’ ramps hadn’t even finished lowering before the first of the enemy appeared, their massive frames filling the doorways. Combat leathers stretched across broad shoulders, traditional long hair plastered wet against faces twisted with zealous determination.

“Remember your positions!”

The makeshift barriers would funnel the attackers exactly where they wanted them. The humans had done well, reconfiguring construction equipment into deadly energy weapons. The Izaeans around him were ready, their discipline evident in their stillness as the horde assembled.

A quick glance confirmed Ashley’s position at the modified plasma cannon with Michelle. New, dark marks around his wrists caught his attention, ivy-like patterns seeming to writhe beneath his skin. His heart stuttered. Bonding marks. They were bonding marks. The gods’ blessing on his mating with Ashley—the same Ashley who’d turned away from his fumbled apology just hours ago, hurt etching lines around her eyes.

He forced the memory down. Later. He’d make it right later.

“For the glory of the pure!” The battle cry rose from dozens of throats as the first wave poured from the shuttles. They moved with practiced precision until they spotted the defenders. Then their tactics shifted, consolidating into a single charging mass.

Exactly as predicted.

His fingers brushed across his wrist, drawing strength from the marks’ presence.

“Hold the line!” he bellowed as the enemy closed the distance with terrifying speed. Energy weapons flared to life, their distinctive whine building to a crescendo before releasing deadly bolts.

The first rank of Purists fell, their bodies creating obstacles for those behind them. More climbed over their fallen, pressing forward with mindless determination.

An explosion rocked the battlefield—one of the human traps detonating. The blast wave washed over them, hot and fierce, scattering Purist warriors like broken dolls. Through the smoke and chaos, the modified construction equipment unleashed streams of deadly energy, cutting swaths through the advancing horde.

“Watch your flanks!” he called as a group tried to break from the main force. His warriors responded in a heartbeat, shifting positions to cut down the flanking attempt before it could fully develop.

The air filled with ozone and the metallic tang of blood so thick that it felt like it coated his tongue. The constant hum of energy weapons filled the space between thunderous explosions, creating a deadly symphony. Through it all, Sy kept his position at the front of the Izaean line, weapon ready as the distance between forces shrank to nothing.

The first Purist warrior crashed against their line like a wave breaking on stone. Sy met him with practiced efficiency, ducking under a wild swing before driving his blade up and through the warrior’s throat. No time to watch him fall as two more took his place, their massive frames moving with unnatural speed.

A Purist broke through nearby, his long hair matted with blood and mud and his eyes wild with something beyond battle fury. Sy spun to intercept, his blade flashing in the strange light cast by the energy weapons. The Purist didn’t even try to dodge—just charged straight into the strike, impaling himself deeper on Sy’s blade to get closer.

Close enough for Sy to hear his whispered words: “The pure… will rise…”

He frowned as he pushed the dying warrior off his blade. This wasn’t normal Purist behavior. They were fanatics, yes, but not suicidal. Not like this. Another warrior took his place immediately, showing the same disregard for self-preservation. And another. And another.

An explosion to Sy’s left cut through his thoughts. One of the Purists had triggered another trap, but instead of trying to avoid the blast, he’d embraced it, taking three more of his comrades with him. The shockwave staggered Sy, but he managed to keep his footing in the blood-slicked mud. To fall was to die, and he had too much to live for.

He had a mate.

A mate he needed to apologize to, and beg to forgive him, but a mate nonetheless.

The battle settled into a brutal rhythm until the last wave broke against their line. These weren’t warriors fighting to win. These were males who’d already accepted their deaths. The realization hit him as he drove his blade through what had to be one of the last attackers.

The Purist grabbed his arm with surprising strength, pulling him close. Blood bubbled at his lips, but his eyes were clear and filled with terrible purpose.

“Purified…” the warrior rasped, mud and blood splattered against his skin, “in heavenly fire.”

Sy felt the words like ice in his veins. Something in the warrior’s tone, in the way his lips curved into a smile even as death took him, sent warning signals screaming through his mind.

He looked up, toward the clouds, and that’s when he saw it. The massive shape of a Purist orbital platform, previously hidden by the cloud cover, now revealing itself like a predator emerging from camouflage.

The dying warrior’s grip tightened on his arm. The smile had grown wider, more terrible. “For the pure,” he whispered, and triumph laced his voice. Victory in his dying breath.

Understanding crashed over Sy like a wave of ice water. This hadn’t been an attack. It had been a sacrifice—a way to keep them pinned in position while the real threat positioned itself above.

The platform’s main cannon flared like an artificial sun. His world narrowed to a single point as the energy beam lanced downward, cutting through the battlefield in an unstoppable arc. He saw every detail in horrifying clarity—the way the air itself seemed to ripple, the brief shimmer as the beam cut through moisture in the atmosphere, the terrible beauty of it all.

“Noooooo!”

The word tore from his throat, but it was already too late. The beam struck the gun emplacement where Ashley and Michelle were. For a fraction of a second, the modified construction equipment glowed white-hot…

Then the world exploded.

The shockwave threw him backward into the mud. Heat washed over him in a scorching wave as his ears rang, drowning out everything else. Staggering to his feet, he saw the crater where the emplacement had been, smoke rising from blackened earth that had been melted to glass.

“Ashley!”

Her name came out broken, barely recognizable. His legs gave out, and he fell to his knees in the bloody mud, the battlefield around him fading to nothing. The ivy-like marks on his wrists burned with a cold fire as if the gods themselves were mourning.

Gone. She was gone.

He hadn’t made things right. Hadn’t explained, hadn’t apologized properly, hadn’t told her… hadn’t told her so many things.

The dying Purist’s laughter cut through his grief—a wet, gurgling sound of victory.

“The pure…” the warrior gasped out his final words, “will always… prevail…”

Around him, other defenders were shouting, moving, responding to the new threat above, but their voices seemed to come from very far away.

His fingers dug into the mud, the physical pain of his tightening grip barely registering against the agony in his chest. The marks on his wrists felt like brands now, a reminder of everything he’d failed to protect.

The orbital platform hung in the sky like a malevolent star, its weapons systems already cycling up for another shot.

He knew he should move, should rally his warriors, should do something. But all he could see was Ashley’s face. All he could think about was how he’d promised himself they’d have time later.

There would be no later.

There would be no chance to bridge the gap between them.

There would be no opportunity to explain himself, to make her understand what she meant to him.

The woman he loved was gone, reduced to ash by a beam of light from above, and with her died all hope of redemption.

Above him, the orbital platform’s weapons continued to charge, preparing to rain more death upon them all. But kneeling in the mud, Sy barely noticed.

His world had already ended.