She drew in a breath and nodded. Acceptance settled over her—not surrender, but a temporary acknowledgment of the reality she could not change. For now, she would have to move carefully, listen, and adapt. And she had been treated well so far. But another thought wound itself into her mind, quiet and cautious.Whoever wants me… I only hope he is like this. Controlled and predictable… to some extent. Bound by rules I don’t understand… but at least they have rules.
If the Marak said she wouldn’t be harmed, she believed him. He had no need to lie. She had no leverage to tempt deceit. And humanity as a whole had even less.
God,humans hadnothingon these creatures.
“You are beginning to understand,” the Marak said. “That is good.”
He turned slightly, addressing the attendant who had remained unobtrusively at the edge of the chamber the entire time. He spoke a phrase in his language—soft and fluid, resonant with the pulse of the room.
Then, to her: “You may go, Morgan Halden.”
Dismissed.
Just like that.
Her fate had been laid before her, out of her control, just as it had been on Earth—but this felt different. She didn’t know why her heart beat so hard, why the trembling in her limbs wasn’t only fear.
Something else swirled beneath her confusion.
Something she didn’t want to name.
CHAPTER 9
The door sealed behind her with a final whisper, and for the first time since her abduction—however long ago that truly was—Morgan found herself alone.
She stood in the center of the chamber, breath still uneven from everything that had happened. The silence felt strange, almost reverent, as though the room itself were holding still alongside her. Slowly, she turned, taking in the space that was now—apparently—hers.
The room was… astonishing.
It was more luxurious, more commanding, and more meticulously crafted than any billionaire’s mansion she had ever stepped foot in. And she had seen many of them. Her father’s world had introduced her early to homes that were more showcases than shelters: cliffside estates in Malibu, glass penthouses hovering above Singapore’s skyline, Swiss compounds carved into mountainsides. Those homes had been extravagant, curated down to the last art piece.
Yet none of them felt likethis.
This chamber surpassed them in both opulence and power.
Stone and metal formed every surface, but the space was softened by warmth in ways that took her by surprise. Thefloor was a dark volcanic stone polished to a muted sheen, layered with thick, deep-colored rugs. The walls—massive slabs of smooth, dark rock—were traced with thin, embedded veins of violet energy that pulsed gently, like the slow heartbeat of some ancient creature. Overhead, a canopy of diffused amber illumination cast a warm glow that softened the hard materials without diminishing their presence.
A bed stood on a raised platform at the room’s center—large, impossibly plush, dressed in silks that shifted with each breath of air. Seating alcoves curved out from the stone walls, piled with cushions so soft they seemed unreal. Tables made of obsidian metal stood like pieces of sculpture, and delicately shaped crystal objects refracted the warm light in quiet, hypnotic patterns.
The room was still clearly part of a fortress—everything here held weight, permanence, and an undercurrent of danger—but it had been softened, subtly and deliberately. For her.
She pressed a hand lightly to her chest and exhaled.How did I get here?
Her thoughts drifted backward, unbidden.
First, the Majarin ship—smooth, organic, alive somehow. She had woken there, confused and terrified, only to be placed in surprisingly comfortable quarters. They had given her clothing that felt like silk and food that resembled Earth meals just enough to be recognizable—bread-like, stew-like, fruit-like—but with flavors she couldn’t place. Not quite familiar, but good.
Then the Marak had appeared.
His presence alone had filled the room like gravity. He’d handed her the translator—a small, smooth silver stone that fit in her palm like it had been made for her hand.
So you can communicate,he’d said.
And then, without explanation, he had left her to whatever fate was now spiraling around her.
Time passed. She had no idea how much. Without sunrise or clocks or any sense of day, she lost track completely. Hours, days—maybe longer. She wondered what her family must be thinking. What her father must be saying about her disappearance.
He would be furious.
