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While I maintain awareness of my own body, I see through my double’s eyes, hunkering down and readying my claws for bloodshed. His—my—feet are silent on the ground, my tail providing enough balance that I can perfectly control the weight of my step. I tuck the clone’s body against the wall of the vessel, then edge slowly toward a hatch opening to my left, oxygen pouring out in a cloud of white.
It’s dark inside. Boreans don’t need light.
Neither do I.
My clone plunges into the darkness just as the creature rounds on me from the outside of the ship, all its seemingly infinite eyes focused on my real form. I see through both of my sets of eyes now–the clone scanning the vessel for enemies while I personally ensure that the creature disables Xanthos’ vessel. I haven’t considered howIam going to get off this damned planet until now—but as long as Fiona escapes, I don’t care what happens to me.
A large, brainwashed Skoll looms in the darkness, and I strike with my clone’s claws. A quick slash to his throat sends him to his knees, blank eyes now empty of any life at all as blood pools on the floor. If Xanthos is onboard and has already sensed Kye’s psyche, they may not be able to escape.
I have no choice but to go onboard myself and kill the magister.
I launch myself toward the hatch, barely escaping a glancing blow from the megafauna’s talons. Another leg lands on the ship just as I get inside, making the whole vessel shudder, but I’m already back on my feet, seeking out Xanthos with both my own eyes and those of my clone’s. I can smell him here, the metallic scent of Elixir mixing with the cloying sweetness of decay. I longed to plunge my claws into the Borean’s throat on Vehyris, and now I have my chance to strike.
I won’t miss the opportunity again.
Someone strikes at my clone, and I focus into that body to dodge out of the way, spinning around and meeting the blade of a Nyeri’i mindslave. My clone slices at one of the many tendrils on her head, and it should draw a cry of pain as I chop it clean off—but she doesn’t seem to care. I can only hope that with Xanthos’s hands controlling this many puppets, he won’t be able to stop Kye from taking off.
They need to leave without me. I can feel it as I fall into a sequence of dodges, parries, stalking the guards through the ship one by one with my clone as I use my true form to seek out Xanthos. He doesn’t know about this skill—or maybe he does, and he’s simply toying with me. I’m notorious enough across the Alpha Worlds that he may see me coming.
No matter. I’ll kill him all the same.
My clone is drenched in blood by the time I finally find Xanthos, lurking at the fringes of the ship. He’s sitting idle at the aft viewing window of the stealth ship, in a room lined with tanks of oil–fuel reserves, I think. I slink into the room without his knowledge, silent as death, readying my claws.
And then I feel himin my mind.
Long, sharp fingers sinking into my skull, telling me that no, I don’t want to do this. I want to go back to the Hunt, back to obedience and submission. I recall a woman telling me to kill Fiona Ward-White, ghostly white lips whispering in my ear…
And for a moment, I think Lamia is here.
I shudder.
It gives him enough time to focus on me.
He turns, his robes billowing around him as he rises into the air. He’s weak though; Ryker must have done a number on him, and he’s been busy controlling his pawns. I spin my blade in my hand, circling the edge of the room as I survey him.
He thinks he still has his claws in me.
“Orion Salestri, winner of the Wild Hunt,” he says. “The Merati princess has collected quite the menagerie…but I told you she wouldn’t escape me.”
“I’m pleased to find my fame has spread as far as your forsaken iceberg of a planet,” I growl. “Tell me—what did Lamia offer you?”
Xanthos smiles, his mouth shining silver with Elixir. “Why…Earth, of course.”
I roll forward just as he sends a slice of air pummeling toward me, tucking my limbs and tail in. He won’t catch me—he doesn’t realize how fast I am, or that I still have a well-kept secret lurking in the darkness of his ship. Indeed, my clone has already eliminated his guards, blood and ichor coating the walls and floor of this damned vessel.
I continue circling around the room, getting his back to the door, steering my clone to meet us. I don’t need to hurry; I can bide my time. We have him trapped, after all.
“Your people have made a powerful enemy in Princess Fiona,” I say.
“My people,” Xanthos scoffs. “Mypeoplewant nothing to do with this war. They don’t see what we could gain from an alliance with Lamia.”
“I think it’s more likely that they see how Fiona could be your downfall when we take back Homeworld,” I snort.
He strikes at me again, and I roll. I can see the age on his face, even in the dark; he’s used up too much Elixir. Whatever deal he made with Lamia, she’s demanded his surrender of Fiona…and perhaps has alienated his allies in the Hyperborean Empire in this foolish game of chance.
“I’ve backed you into a corner, Salestri,” he sneers. “What are you going to do now?”
I straighten, cocking my head at him. “Me?” I say. “Nothing.”
