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“Pyraxis, hm?” Aunt Ormi tapped her chin with her forefinger. “Are you helping my dear nephew?”

One could say that. “I’m doing my best.”

“You’re too humble, Roy.” Cal’s knuckles brushed Roy’s biceps. “He’s done so much for me. For us. I don’t know where we would have been…”

The ringing intensified, now screaming in his skull. Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to tame the migraine that would soon follow. A copper taste erupted on his tongue.

The crowd of servants parted, and a tall, silver figure emerged.

Roy’s heart lurched. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples. Was this a cryosleep nightmare? His eyes darted to Cal, who seemed oblivious to the looming danger.

Aunt Ormi’s muffled voice chirped, “Oh, I believe you haven’t met my partner, Xallan, yet? They’re such a wonderful soul.”

If this were a nightmare, it was an especially grotesque one. A Vraan alien, wrapped in robes of golden thread and silk, approached slowly. Roy’s hand instinctively shot to his hip, though there was no holster.

“A Pyraxian.” Xallan’s screech lashed out in Roy’s thoughts. “The Swarm remembers.”

“So do I.” Roy gritted his teeth and stepped in front of Adria, planting himself between her and the creature.

Xallan fell to their knees and folded into a tight ball on the ground, their tail wrapped around their body, long claws on their hands covering their elongated skull. “So much pain. So much suffering. The Swarm knows you, Roy. The Swarm mourned every lost soul.” Their tail twitched, the bandages on the tip scraping against the marble floor. “The Swarm knows Milo, too.”

Thick raindrops drummed on the coloured glass in Roy’s chamber. Condensation filmed the cold stone walls. Roy sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling. His eyes burned as much as the back of his throat. He combed through his hair and slipped into his boots. Why had he agreed to this thing?

Descending the stairwell, his fingertips brushed the sleek marble rail. The Vraan hadn’t been pushy, yet Roy felt like he couldn’t bring himself to refuse, even if the creature could kill him with a tiny scratch.

Once he reached the second floor, he took a deep breath before entering the corridor. At the end of it, he found a heavy oak door, lined with carvings of teacups. Silhouettes of steam curled from the engraved pictures.

Roy grasped the handle. The door opened before him with a soft creak.

“Roy.” Xallan rose from a pastel-mint armchair. Their claws gestured toward the seats nearby. Angling their eyeless silver face, their jaw twisted into a grimace—perhaps an attempt at a smile. “Please. Join me.”

Do we stay in my head for the whole tea party? Roy sighed and slumped onto the couch, hands folded in his lap.

“I’m terribly sorry. My kin’s vocal cords cannot produce sounds suitable for human languages.” Xallan sat back in the armchair. Their tail curled on the floor, bandages wrapped tightly around the tip.

Roy’s mouth twitched. An illusion filled his mind—Xallan squeezing the thorn at the end of their tail, dripping neurotoxin into the tea kettle a servant was bringing to their table.

“I would do no such thing.” Xallan’s presence swept across Roy’s brainwaves like a gentle tide. “I’m very cautious about hurting anyone. As you can see, my tail is safe. But I understand your… position.”

“I’m sorry.” Roy crossed his arms. “It’ll take me a while.”

“Naturally.” Xallan’s claws gripped the porcelain mug. A long tongue lashed out of the jaw, gathering drops of tea before disappearing again behind the steel fangs. “You know, it took me a while to get used to a human’s presence, too. You’re very scary creatures.”

“We?” Roy chuckled.

“Yes, you, with your power armour and fighter jets, harpoons and chlorine gas.” Xallan shifted, their claws tapping on the soft cushion. “I still get nightmares, you know?”

“That makes the two of us,” Roy mumbled. “So, why did you want to talk to me?”

“The Swarm has something that belongs to you.” Another slurp from the amber liquid. “A shard of Milo’s mind.”

“What?” The liquid in Roy’s cup rippled as his hands trembled.

“After the last breath, the human brain vibrates with waves strong enough to break through the signal jammers your army used. We saved each one, preserved it, in case anyone wanted to collect it one day.”

“What… what does that mean?”

“They’re flashes of memories. Some say the waves carry the brightest moments of one’s life.”