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Even though Jaya and the otherzephtanare most certainly hungry, we’re forced to take off again right away and hop to another garden world. It will add to our trip by a few days, and that makes me more anxious than ever, given what we’ve learned.
The device that exploded near Jaya on that planet has many eerie similarities to the one that destroyed Rath.
Just to be safe, we leave it behind. Away from the advanced testing facilities on Logos, we have no way of knowing if it’s truly inert.
I can’t seem to get it out of my head that we’re in danger as we approach the Razakiin fleet, blinking through a wormhole into orbit around Azoth. The fewzephtanthey managed to get off of Razakii during the Skoro attack have landed on the planet’s surface, grazing on the tall grasses that coat the planet in what almost looks like snow, but is in fact white grass. The fleet wasn’t sure if they would be able to feed theirzephtanthere, but it’s one of the only places that’s safe anymore—and the creatures seem satisfied enough.
I climb up to the cortex as we approach the planet, Jaya calling out to thezephtanalready on Azoth. The planet glows blue-white beneath us, specific features getting clearer when we break through the atmosphere. Azoth is mostly blank, a white canvas with a single city at its center. Thezephtanbelow blend in with the grasses, practically invisible until you get close and realize there’s a behemoth right in front of you.
Frankie stands with her arms clasped tight around herself, her curly hair down and falling in messy ringlets over her shoulders. I stand beside her and reach out a tentative hand, retracting my claws before placing my fingers on her shoulder.
Her head whips around, her eyes wide. I almost pull away, but she covers my hand with hers.
“Oh,” she says. “Hey.”
I’m not used to this version of her—quiet, concerned. Frankie never seems afraid.
“You ready to spend some time with humans?” I ask, trying to tease out a smile. “I assume you’re sick of me.”
It works, even if her smile is weak. She doesn’t let go of my hand, her fingers brushing over my knuckles, and as always, it feels…perfect. Right.
“I’m worried,” she says. “Aren’t you?”
“Hm…” I say, wondering how hard I should try to lie. It almost never works; she can read me no matter what I do. “I’ve been on the run for almost my whole life, so…no. Not that worried.”
“But this is different,” she says. She raises her other hand to her lips and chews idly on her nail, grunting softly in thought. “Where did they get these weapons?”
I shrug. “Dalphox has devoted his entire reign over Skoro to waging war on other planets. Who knows what he’s discovered?”
“But why would he destroy Rath without even taking any other actions? Without warning? And what was with that smaller weapon on Raza-896?” she asks, referring to the garden world we had to flee. Her brow furrows, the starlight beyond the window lighting up her dark eyes. “This just…doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t check out.”
“What’s your theory?” I ask.
She bites her lip, her teeth pressing divots into her flesh. “I don’t know.”
We coast through the clouds, holding onto one another the entire time. I can hear the rest of the crew preparing to exit the hatch, Zandro interfacing with the ship and bound into the vines of the pilot’s seat. I just want to stay here for the moment, though, staring out at Azoth with Frankie’s hand in mine. I feel like if we stand here long enough, we can freeze time and stay blissfully unaware of what lies ahead.
It’s going to be something bad.
I’m sure of it.
There’s a small group of Skoropi, humans, and Lyra waiting for us on the surface, a small settlement having risen up around thezephtanfield. Most of the residents of this planet live on a large plateau overlooking the plains, the tall grasses populated by dangerous wildlife, but thezephtanare big enough to scare off anything that might creep into camp.
I’ve only been here once—right after we rescued Zandro from the fighting pits on Skoro, when Razakii was first invaded by the Second House. It was here that we licked our wounds and formulated a new plan, one that involved all three of our species uniting against Dalphox’s forces.
It feels like a lifetime ago. We had so much rage and hope back then; now, we’re all uncertain.
Frankie and Malix join me as I follow Zandro and Bekah off the ship, Bekah carrying a sealed case containing the shard of the weapon.
It takes me a second to adjust to the light before I can make out the group here to greet us: a human, a Lyran, and three Skoropi. I only recognize one of the people ahead of me: Nixeris, the warlord of the Fourth House. They’re dressed as decadently as ever, a gold and blue shift hanging loose on their shoulders and trailing behind them, their tail swishing underneath.
“Nixeris,” Zandro says, reaching out a hand and grasping Nixeris by the forearm.
Nixeris tilts their head as Zandro does the same, a mutual sign of respect. I bow my head deeper, bending my knees and balancing on my tail, while Frankie and Bekah do the same.
Malix is the odd one out, but he catches on quickly enough—and soon, we’re all distracted with a flurry of introductions.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Nixeris says, their voice cool as ever. “We’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
