Page 89 of Enslak

The shuttle touched down in the clearing beyond our ship, its hatch opening before the landing struts had fully extended. They must have been close, must have been searching. Their response time to the distress beacon was impossibly fast.

Soldiers filed out in formation. A dozen of them, all armed, all wearing full tactical gear. They moved with precision, fanning out to secure the perimeter, checking the bodies scattered across the clearing.

But it was the figure who emerged last that made my breath catch.

Charick.

My brother.

Even from this distance, I knew him instantly. The way he moved, the set of his shoulders, the commanding presence that had always made him seem larger than life. He stood taller than the soldiers around him, his tan pelt gleaming in the filtered sunlight breaking through the canopy.

"That's my brother," I said quietly. "That's Charick."

Niki's hand found mine, squeezing tight. "Are you ready for this?"

Was I? Ready to face my brother after a century of captivity, after becoming something I barely recognized? Ready to see the judgment in his eyes when I explained why I'd run, why I'd defied the family's decision?

"No," I admitted. "But we don't have a choice."

Chapter 19

Enslak

When the hatch opened, humid air rushed in carrying the smell of blood and scorched metal. Underneath it all was that clean Alliance tech smell—ozone and sterility—and it felt wrong against Avalon's green perfume. Red targeting laser dots painted the interior, a dozen of them tracking across the surfaces until Charick raised one hand and they disappeared.

"Come out slowly," he called, his voice carrying that command tone he'd used since we were kids.

When I took a step, the world tilted sideways. Gray crept in from the edges of my vision, narrowing everything to a tunnel. The pain I'd been holding back through will and adrenaline and sheer stubbornness crashed over me like a wave, and every blaster wound screamed in protest.

"Enslak," Niki said, her hand small and warm on my arm. "I've got you."

She didn't, though I appreciated the sentiment. I was too heavy, and if I went down, I'd take her with me. I forced myself to move, taking one step and then another while blood dripped from somewhere—my side, my leg, maybe both—soaking through my clothes in warm, wet patches.

The sunlight hit me like a fist when I emerged, too bright. I squinted, trying to focus on Charick's face, but everything kept blurring and refocusing and blurring again. Niki descended beside me, her hand gripping my arm, and I could feel her trembling as the soldiers formed a perimeter around us. Weapons ready but not yet aimed, they watched me the way you watch a wounded animal—dangerous, unpredictable, ready to be put down if it lunges.

Charick stood alone in the center. As we got closer, I watched his face change. Relief came first, brief and bright when his eyes found mine, and for one heartbeat I saw my brother—the one who taught me to hunt, who carried me when I was too small to keep up, who promised to always protect me. Then his gaze dropped, taking in the blood and the burns and the wounds, and the relief died.

His face went pale under his tan pelt, his eyes widening. His mouth opened but nothing came out. I knew what he was seeing: blood everywhere, not surface wounds but deep burns and charred flesh where the blaster bolts had hit again and again. My shoulder hung wrong. My breathing came ragged and gasping, more animal than person. My claws were out and extended, still slick with Ulkommenian blood, trembling with muscle spasms I couldn't control, clicking together like knives. My teeth were bared—not in a snarl but in a grimace of pain so intense I couldn't control my face. Saliva mixed with blood dripped from my fangs.

I tried to stand straight, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I swayed, my vision tunneling as only Niki's grip kept me upright.

"Brother," Charick said, his voice cracking not with joy but with grief. "We've been searching for you."

When he stepped closer, I saw it—the blade. Not a combat weapon but something ceremonial, curved and beautiful with an edge so sharp it seemed to cut the air. The metal gleamed with symbols inscribed across its surface that I recognized even through the pain-haze. The koa ukufa, the mercy blade. He'd come to finish it.

"No," Niki breathed beside me. "No, he can't—"

But I understood. Looking at myself through his eyes, I got it. I looked like death, like something that should have died hours ago—a creature in agony held together by nothing but pain and instinct. This wasn't my brother seeing me. This was a warrior seeing a dying animal.

"Enslak," Charick said, his voice going soft and gentle with the tone you use for the dying. He took another step, the blade loose at his side. "Brother. I'm so sorry it's come to this."

He closed the distance to five meters, and I could see tears in his eyes now. His scent reached me—familiar, achingly familiar, carrying memories of home and safety and a life I'd lost.

"Charick, wait—" Niki started forward, but I caught her arm with my good hand and shook my head. I'd fight for my life, for the chance to stay with her, but I wouldn't let her get hurt.

"No!" Her voice rose, fierce and desperate. "I won't let him—you're healing."

Was I? Looking at the mercy blade and feeling my body failing, I wasn't so sure anymore.