We walked for what felt like hours—through quarters and corridors I’d already passed, now streaked with gore from Lion’s slaughter. Kael tried to brief us on the journey ahead, but I tuned him out, letting him and Lion trade barbs like the bodies around us weren’t still cooling. Just the three of us—Kael, Lion, and me—moving through a corridor lit by pulsing alien glyphs and too-quiet ventilation.

  The black pressure suit beneath my armor hung in shreds, nanites retreating into a skeletal brace along my spine. My arms were bare from shoulder to wrist, my left leg exposed from hip to ankle—slick with blood and silver flake. Only my chest and upper thighs were covered—just enough to function, not enough to feel human.

  “Valicar,” I muttered, a static itch crawling behind my eyes. The shield’s holding—but something’s pressing in… testing.

  “Shift priority.”

  “Define.”

  “Stabilize the core. Full shield integrity. Hive-proof. I want that field solid before the bath. Nanite efficiency over vanity.”

  “Redirecting resources. Core containment active. Quantum shield projected at 23.2 meters. Estimated occlusion duration: 132.7 years. Hive resonance nullified.”

  I exhaled—slow and steady.

  The shield holds. My mind is my own… for now.

  We passed door after door—each one leading to zones I wasn’t built to enter.

  One leaked a gentle mist, heavy with spores and humid air. A forest, maybe. Or a fungal hive.

  Another glowed from the seams—red-hot heatwaves rolling off the walls like a furnace. That one? 600 degrees Fahrenheit. Silicon-based life lived behind that threshold. Lithoid crews, maybe.

  Kael glanced at my exposed leg—blood-slick, armor shredded. His gaze dropped fast, like he’d touched a burner. Embarrassed. Human.

  I used to feel that too. The flush of being seen, the urge to cover up.

  Now? I wasn’t comfortable with what I’d become—but embarrassment felt... small.

  So much has happened since then. So much worse.

  Something itched behind my ears.

  I reached up—absent, automatic—and stopped cold.

  The skin felt different: a thin ridge of pliable cartilage, far too sensitive beneath my fingertips—like something half-grown, half-awake—

  Nope. Not dealing with that right now.

  I let my hand drop. Focused on the corridor. On the doors.

  The sound around me felt sharper. Too sharp. Kael breathing. Lion’s armor humming. The glyphs pulsing overhead.

  All of it just a little too clear. Like the world had cranked up its volume while I wasn’t looking.

  Either way… not now. For the sake of my sanity, I did what I always did—I ignored it.

  We reached the door at the end of the hall—tall, curved, trimmed in alien metal. Strange glyphs shimmered faintly across its surface like veins of light.

  Kael stepped ahead and keyed something on the panel.

  “This is it,” he said quietly. “Your diplomatic quarters. This is a warship, but this section was meant for officials. Dignitaries. We’ve hosted Council members here before.”

  He gestured toward the door as it hissed open.

  “You’ll find food. Water. A cleansing system. Entertainment nodes. Real beds. The atmosphere’s tuned for humanoids.”

  He hesitated again, then looked at me.

  “I can bring you something,” Kael said quietly. “From my quarters. Clothes. You’ll be more comfortable.”

  "Thanks," I muttered.

  There was something in his face— quiet, uncertain, but real. He was trying. In his own way.

  Maybe—just maybe—we had a shot at being more than enemies.

  That had to count for something.

  Right up until Lion moved-and shattered the illusion.

  Without a word, he stepped past us and grabbed two corpses slumped against the wall. Still warm. One Rue. One mollusc. Blood still wet in their fur and plating. Fresh meat.

  He dragged them like broken luggage and flung them into our new quarters—limbs thudding, flesh slapping tile. The sound they made hitting the floor was thick. Wet.

  It made my stomach growl.

  Kael froze. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Lion didn’t even glance back. “Highness needs food, traitor.”

  “They’re honored dead!” Kael snapped. “They gave their lives for this!”

  "And now they give their bodies," Lion said —voice amused.

  "They tried to bag her like a prize and failed like pathetic amateurs. Now they get the honor of being royal shit, courtesy of Highness. Honestly? It's the highlight of their careers. They should be thanking her digestion for the dignity."

  I cringed, and Kael stepped forward, fists clenched, eyes blazing.

  “Amateurs?” he spat. “They were the best of us. They gave up everything—families, futures, even hope—to stop the Hive. They walked into hell so we might have a shot at peace, and you call them pathetic?”

  His voice cracked. “You don’t get to mock that. You don’t get to drag their names through the dirt like they meant nothing. They were the best of us—heroes who gave everything to stop the Hive. And you? You’re just a bully playing god, using their corpses like objects because you think being strong makes you right.”

  His hands shook—not with rage, but horror.

  “Lion,” I said quietly. “He’s right. This is—”

  “Not his choice—because he’s wrong,” Lion said, voice flat behind the golden visor. “Strength is exactly what makes me better. These animals were fuel, Highness. Nothing more. This scum doesn’t deserve my words, let alone a justification for my actions. No xeno should meet a human’s gaze without kneeling first. And this one?” He doesn’t look. Just gestures with his chin. “This worm needs to remember his place.”

  “You want them to kneel?” Kael spat. “They stood—when the Hive tore worlds apart. Real bravery is standing when you know you’ll lose. Not playing god just because you’re the biggest monster in the room.” He shook his head. “All that strength—and you’re still a coward.”

  He swallowed, voice shaking. “That Rue had a name—Jeasgeeis. The mollusc? Hgeainsbadds. He saved my life. Twice. On Yeausl. They weren’t just soldiers. They were better men than you’ll ever be.”

  Lion didn’t flinch.

  “They weren’t men at all. But even if they were...”

  He smiled—cold and effortless, voice dipping into absolute conviction.

  “I am better than all of them. Better than anything that walks or crawls beneath these stars. I was made in the image of a god—built to embody His will, forged in war, perfected in pain. There are only two people in this galaxy who stand above me, and one of them is standing in this room.”

  He met my eyes and said, perfectly matter-of-fact, “Humanity is the apex. I am its sword. That makes me the pinnacle of creation.”

  I snorted. “Wow. So humble.”

  “Humility is recognizing your place in the order of things. I simply know I’m on top. And His Majesty put me there.”

  I blinked. “Jesus, Lion.”

  “Not quite,” he said, without missing a beat.

  “That’s your role, Highness.”

  The words hung in the air like a slap.

  Kael’s head snapped toward me—face flushed, fists clenched, eyes blazing with disbelief and fury.

  “You’re just going to let him do this?” he hissed. “Let him treat them like scraps of meat while you strut around like you're divine? Like your butcher-king of a father didn’t already drown the stars in enough blood?”

  His voice cracked with rage.

  “He didn’t build some glorious empire. He built a graveyard. Thousands of civilizations wiped clean. Billions dead. Maybe trillions. And you stand here and let this thing call him a god.”

  “You’re both monsters,” he whispered. “And she lets you be one.”

  “I…”

  I couldn’t finish. Because he wasn’t wrong.

  Lion turned.

  Before I could speak, he moved.

  A flash of gold.

  A backhand like thunder.

  Kael slammed into the wall with a sickening crunch. Teeth scattered across the floor. Blood smeared the console beside him. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

  I stepped forward. “Lion—fuck. What the hell was that?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Not until the hiss of his helmet seals broke the air. He lifted it off slowly, steam curling from the edges as he cradled the golden helm under one arm.

  He looked nothing like the Lion from my dream with Altis.

  The long blond hair was gone. Half his face replaced with steel. Phoenix in his blood. Machine in his veins. And that golden eye—burning with the same fire I’d once seen in my father.

  “That,” he said flatly, “was mercy. Before he said something worth killing him over.”

  “You broke his fucking face!” I snapped. “Why do you always do this?”

  His gaze flicked to Kael—just a twitch in his jaw. “The only other time I did, Reid took worse. And he didn’t whimper. When I showed up, he stood his ground. Foolish. Brave. Human. He served humanity for decades. Not like this soft-bellied mutt licking xeno boots.”

  Lion shrugged slightly. “If anything, this just proves my point.”

  My hands curled into fists. The sound of Reid’s body hitting the bulkhead echoed in my skull—sickening. Final.

  “Keep his fucking name out of your mouth. He has nothing to do with this.”

  Lion didn’t blink.

  “He bled for you. That makes him relevant.”

  I swallowed hard, the memory still fresh. I’d screamed. I’d begged.

  And Lion hadn’t stopped.

  Because back then, he didn’t answer to me.

  He only answered to Julian.

  I shoved the thought down.

  “Whatever you think of them,” I said, low, “our leverage with the Council starts here. We’re not prisoners—but we won’t be allies if you keep doing this. Not even you can fight an entire galaxy alone. Without allies, we’ll be hunted down—and you’re handing them every reason to pull the trigger.”

  Lion chuckled—slow and unbothered. “That’s where you’re wrong, Highness.”

  He tilted his head slightly, that golden eye burning steady.

  “I don’t need allies. I need enemies worth killing. And if it takes an entire galaxy to meet that challenge—then let them come.”

  Then he smiled—too calm. Too confident.

  “Besides… negotiation means nothing without a little fear. Let them crawl first. Let them beg.”

  His voice dropped to a murmur. “Only then do we offer mercy—if I’m not having too much fun.”

  “You won’t always be the strongest,” I snapped. “You’re just a goddamn bully. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “Fine,” Lion said, unbothered. “Pretend that’s true.”

  He stepped closer to Kael—still writhing on the floor, clutching his face.

  “And let’s forget what he said…” He tilted his head. “He was still staring.”

  A pause. Then quieter. Colder.

  “I know your taste in men’s always been questionable, Highness—but this one?”

  Lion kicked him hard in the ribs.

  Kael let out a guttural grunt as something cracked—loud, sharp, unmistakable. He slid across the floor a few feet, curling around the pain.

  “Cut it out,” I said sharply, stepping forward.

  Lion didn’t budge. “Save your sympathy, Highness. Traitors don’t deserve it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, Fuck off, Lion. The years you were gone were some of the best.”

  He straightened slightly. “That may be. But it doesn’t change the fact—”

  His tone cooled.

  “You’ve burned through too much biomass. You need fresh meat—and you know this helps, whether you want to admit it or not.”

  No malice. Just cold logic.

  And somehow, that made it worse.

  Then his gaze dropped again to Kael—still curled on the floor, jaw hanging at a sick angle.

  “I don’t care if he was born under a dirt flag or suckled by Rue hands—no one slanders His Majesty and walks away. Not in my presence. Not even under yours.”

  I stared at him, stomach tight. “Julian wasn’t a god.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Lion turned to me, slow and deliberate.

  “Then you haven’t been paying attention.”

  He paused, one foot already in the doorway.

  “Say what you want. That’s your right. But this thing?” His head nodded toward Kael. “This traitor? He doesn’t get to speak His name.”

  Then he stepped through the doorway—calm, unhurried—without a single glance back.

  I looked down at Kael.

  He was groaning. Hands shaking. His jaw bent at an ugly angle. Tears streaked through the blood on his face.

  I eased down next to Kael. “Hey—shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that.”

  He only managed a shaky nod.

  I slid an arm under his and helped him to his feet. His legs wobbled; my expression didn’t. Not strength—just reflex. I hadn’t been fast enough to stop Lion from shattering his jaw, and I’m not na?ve enough to gamble on a stranger’s goodwill over the psychotic certainty I already understand.

  Kael is still, technically, the enemy. Lion is the devil I know—cruel, predictable, mine. I don’t trust him—but I understand him. And that makes him useful.

  Better to leash a monster I can read than bet on someone whose limits are a mystery.

  Call it strategy. Call it cowardice. Either way, it’s the Voss way.

  Behind us, the door to our quarters hissed open.

  “Clear,” Lion called from inside. Calm as a man ordering lunch.

  Kael staggered back, one hand still cradling his jaw the other his ribs.

  He didn’t speak. Just stood there, swaying.

  Then Lion leaned against the doorframe. “Bring those clothes within the hour, worm. Or I’ll find you.”

  Kael flinched—shoulders jerking like he’d been struck again—then gave a tight nod without lifting his eyes. He turned, slow and stiff, and limped down the hall with uneven steps, his shame trailing behind him like a cloak.

  I watched him go, something bitter curling in my gut.

  “Lion,” I snapped. “Shut up and get inside.”

  Lion only grunted, then stepped inside.

  I followed, blinking at what waited beyond the door.

  It was alien—but not hostile. The place was too open. Three curved side doors, lit from inside. More space than I needed. More silence than I wanted. A central lounge—if you could call it that—featured a low table, modular furniture, and something that might’ve been a dining area. One wall looked like a kitchen. Or close enough. Smooth surfaces, faint glow, everything too clean to be trusted. Soft pulses followed my movement like the ship itself was breathing.

  I picked the left door and peaked inside. The chamber opened into a private space—clean, functional, too quiet.

  Good enough.

  I sighed, barely hesitating, and grabbed the Rue’s leg on the way in—a thick, mammalian slab of muscle and fat. My stomach growled. It looked almost appetizing, like something between a cow shank and a war crime. Once a sentient being that spoke through light.

  Sorry, Jeasgeeis. But a girl’s gotta eat.

  The hunger roared, even if the whispers were silent.

  The mollusc didn’t look appetizing—Hgeainsbadds’s flesh had already begun to congeal, too rubbery, too cold. I passed it by. One was enough. For now.

  Valicar-assisted strength made it easy. Too easy.

  I twisted, tore it clean off with a wet snap, and started chewing as I walked to my new quarters.

  Still evil. Still necessary.

  I turned to Lion and pointed. “Stay out.”

  Then shut the door behind me.

  Just a few hours of quiet. That’s all I needed.

  The room was simple. Functional. Alien, but not unwelcoming. A low bed. A sealed panel I figured was the restroom—complete with some kind of strange, organic toilet. Gross…

  The furniture looked more grown than built, shaped like driftwood twisted by intention instead of waves. At the far end of the main room, a recessed half-sphere glowed faintly—filled with something that shimmered like liquid glass.

  A bath. Sort of. Right there in the open.

  I approached slowly, already halfway through the Rue leg, peeling off the last tatters of my shredded black suit as I went. The nanites scavenged what they could—tiny currents pulling gore and grime away in soft threads. What was left clung to my skin in streaks of blood, burn residue… maybe someone else’s DNA. Valicar slid off with a soft hiss, folding itself down to just a chess piece. Everything else—the shoulder guards, the shorts, the bindings—shrunk and pulled back into it. But even stripped down, it was still active. Its field spread across the room, quiet and total, cutting me off from the Hive. No whispers. No pull on the link. Just silence. I set it down by the bath, next to the pile of rags that used to be a suit.

  The gel was turquoise—glowing faintly, like someone had poured bioluminescence into antifreeze. And floating in it were… fruit. Dozens of them. Round, glossy, orange-like. At first glance, they looked like Earth oranges, just slightly off—larger stems, a weird waxy texture, and a citrus scent that felt sharp enough to cut.

  I blinked at one. Plucked it from the surface. Took a bite.

  Bitter and sweet hit my tongue at the same time—like chewing static wrapped around a lemon drop. My mouth tingled. The juice fizzed faintly at the corners of my lips. Not an orange. Definitely alien. But not bad.

  Better with a bit of Rue, anyway.

  I tossed the rind aside and stepped in.

  Silence. No voices, no thoughts—just the steady drum of my pulse inside the gel.

  The stuff was unreal: cool and warm in the same breath, thick enough to hold me, light enough to let me float. It peeled away dried blood, nanite sludge, and every grain of grit, dissolving them into faint silver wisps before they could reach the surface. A mellow chemical tingle unfurled in their place—half cleanser, half sedative—easing muscles I hadn’t even realized were locked.

  The warmth slid lower, coiling in my belly with a faint, illicit spark I pretended not to notice.

  Too late.

  A smile flashed behind my eyes—crooked, familiar, impossible. A shock of blond hair. Dumb mirrored sunglasses. The ghost of something I wasn’t ready to name.

  Still comatose. Still in cryo. And I still haven’t found a way to wake him.

  God, I miss him.

  Then Ashly. Quiet. Awkward. Always biting her lip when nervous. Short dark hair. Slim—barely taller than me. She used to blush every time I got too close.

  She still misses Garin. That smug, insufferable bastard.

  She doesn’t know what I did. What I had to do.

  Maybe it’s better that way.

  We got close. Just… not close enough.

  I should’ve let her in. I wanted to. I still do.

  I blinked hard. Shut the thought down.

  Wrong time. Wrong place. Not helpful.

  I eased back against the gel, letting the warmth hold me, wrap around me like breath.

  This might be the best damn bath I’ve ever taken…

  ...minus the hormonal side effects. Or maybe that’s not me at all—maybe that’s Phoenix, whispering breedbreedbreed beneath my skin.

  I shivered.

  And then I saw it.

  Half-buried under my gear—my little flask.

  Of all things.

  It had survived. The fight. The blood. The madness. Somehow, that dented metal bastard had made it through.

  Thank god the important things survived, I muttered, dragging it close. I unscrewed the cap. Sniffed.

  Still booze. Still me. Barely.

  I polished off the last bite of Rue and chased it with a swig of rum.

  Burned going down. Felt like home.

  I balanced the slick, half-cracked bone on the rim of the tub—marrow still sealed inside for a final bite—its surface catching the turquoise glow.

  I’m gonna have to figure something out.

  They’ve gotta have alcohol on this ship somewhere—or something close enough.

  If not, I’ll brew my own... like him.

  I paused.

  The memory surfaced again—uninvited, but not unwelcome.

  Reid.

  That stupid smile. That night after the observation deck—the one I never let myself remember.

  Too raw. Too much passion. Far too much booze. And too dangerous to relive.

  I buried it deep.

  But the heat in my gut wasn’t just the bath.

  It was him.

  It’s always been him.

  Then came the sadness.

  Then the rage.

  That look in his eyes—green and bright, still trying to protect me. Still stepping forward like he could stop it.

  He never stood a chance.

  Lion hit him like a comet—threw him into the bulkhead hard enough to break bone.

  And I just stood there. Screaming. Useless.

  I shook my head and stared down at the flask.

  No. Not now. Don’t go there.

  Think about the booze. Focus on that. Focus on something real.

  If their bath hits like this… they’ve got to have something stronger tucked away.

  The thought helped. Barely.

  "Advising immediate biomass recovery," Valicar said—its voice emanating from the suit where it lay nearby, still linked, still watching. Cold. Surgical. "Primary integrity at 46%. Neural mesh repair: deferred. Would you like assistance dismembering the remains?"

  I blinked. Hard.

  “Shut up, Valicar. I’m working on it.”

  The Rue leg hadn’t done much. Maybe thirty pounds of meat. Not enough. I could feel it—like gravity pressing harder than it should, static fizzing behind my thoughts. Still hungry. Still behind. Still catching up to whatever I’m supposed to be.

  The gel shimmered around me. My vision blurred. Lightheaded. Weak.

  I hadn’t eaten since the bird-thing. The deer-thing. I keep naming them like they weren’t people—but they were. Sentient. Aware. Alive. And when they died, they left something behind.

  Flashes. Memories. Not mine. Still real.

  The bird soared through glowing forests, dove through violet clouds beside its mate. It sang light from its throat—pure joy. The Hive tore that sky apart.

  The deer walked like something sacred, long fingers folded in prayer. It had children. A home. Gone now—burned in green fire before I tore out its heart.

  And still—I turned them into food.

  Not human, but close.

  I killed so many. Lion killed more.

  And it all feels… distant. Like it happened to someone else.

  Is that Phoenix? Or is it just me breaking?

  I should feel horror. Grief. Anything more than just guilt.

  But I don’t.

  And that’s what scares me.

  Am I a fucking psychopath?

  Or is this what Phoenix is making me?

  They fought. I just fought harder. That’s how it works now. That’s survival.

  And maybe that’s why I’m turning into a monster—inside and out.

  After the last fight, I limped to Lion, half-dead. Tore off my own arms. Let them regrow in a haze of screaming tissue.

  I remember the pain—but only faintly.

  Like it belonged to someone else.

  Every cell still screams for fuel.

  That Rue leg was just a snack. The rest of Jeasgeeis and Hgeainsbadds—are still cooling in the hall. I’ll need both. Not just for meat, but for DNA. Their edge.

  I hate thinking like this.

  But that’s never stopped me. Has it?

  And worse—I see them when I do it.

  Their memories. What they loved. What they feared. Always too vivid.

  Too real.

  And now?

  Jeasgeeis.

  I crack his leg bone. The flash hits—sharp and bitter.

  Warm marrow spills out. I suck it down.

  Disgusting.

  Delicious.

  Revulsion and hunger twist in my gut.

  It tastes incredible—rich, fatty, exactly what I need.

  But my eyes still sting.

  The memory isn’t mine.

  But it feels like it is.

  A bunk. Recycled air. A sister humming an old tune.

  Then—Hive tendrils. Burning fur. Silence.

  Jeasgeeis had run. Survived. Fought. Joined a suicide run just to bring me in.

  And now?

  Now he’s food.

  And I’m crying while I eat him.

  I get why Kael lost it.

  Doesn’t change the outcome.

  I wipe my tears away—more reflex than regret.

  Guilt’s still there. Just buried.

  Like a whisper in a storm.

  Oh well.

  It’s survival.

  I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I never did.

  But want doesn’t matter anymore.

  Survival does.

  They need to believe I’m something worth fearing—because fear’s the only thing keeping me alive and out of a cage.

  Lion understood that. Better than anyone.

  Maybe that’s why he’s here. Maybe that’s why he never left.

  Even now, I don’t know if I brought him…

  Or if my father sent him.

  Julian never did anything without reason. He wouldn’t have left me unguarded. Not in this warzone.

  And Lion, for all his monstrous shit, stuck by me—even when I screamed, even when I hated him.

  So why didn’t Julian tell me?

  Unless that was the plan all along.

  Another string I mistook for choice.

  I don’t know who I’m supposed to trust anymore.

  Lion?

  Julian?

  Myself?

  The aliens who tried to kidnap me—and now bow when I walk by?

  I was supposed to be their prisoner.

  Now I’m the one they fear.

  The one with the predator behind her.

  The voice in her head.

  The corpse-throne behind a diplomatic seal.

  And maybe that’s the most fucked-up part.

  Because if I’m what Julian left behind—if I’m the result of all his brilliance and cruelty—then what the hell am I proving?

  That survival means anything goes?

  That blood and beauty are enough to claim the future?

  Maybe we didn’t lose our humanity.

  Maybe he just buried it.

  And now I’m the one wearing what’s left—like a second skin.

  Because if Lion hadn’t come, I’d be at their mercy.

  And now?

  Now they’re at mine.

  Is that what power is?

  Choosing which bodies stay warm?

  I let the gel wrap tighter around me. Let it pull me down. Let myself float.

  It’s the closest I’ve felt to human in years.

  And for the first time in what felt like forever…

  I actually feel something.

  Clean.

  The gore was gone—scrubbed clean, even if the guilt still clung like grit. My limbs, rebuilt so many times they barely felt like mine, looked almost ordinary now. The black talons on my feet had shed into the gel like brittle shell, revealing toes beneath. My hands were smoothing over too, the nails shrinking toward something passable. Even my teeth had dulled—oversized fangs broken loose, replaced by smaller, blunter edges knitting in without fanfare. It was all automatic, mechanical—so routine that the tear of new roots in my gums barely registered.

  Just another reset. Another reminder I’m not built like a normal human.

  But then I noticed something else.

  Something new.

  I glanced up—toward the far end of the chamber, where a strange, organic mirror shimmered with a liquid sheen. It wasn’t glass, not really. It felt alive. Like it was waiting for me to notice it.

  I stood. Slowly.

  And stared.

  Same doll face. Same white hair, drifting like silk in the fluid. Same mismatched eyes—one red, one blue. My body had healed. The skin smooth. My limbs looked human again—almost. Too clean. Too perfect.

  Better than fangs and claws, I guess. Progress.

  I looked like myself again. Or at least the version that kept crawling back after every fight.

  But then I saw them.

  The ears.

  Long. Angled. Pointed like blades, rising back from the sides of my skull.

  No.

  I stepped in closer to the mirror. Leaned forward. Reached up and touched one.

  It twitched.

  Goddammit.

  These weren’t going away. Not like the claws or the armor or the dense, temporary layering Phoenix always shed after a battle. These were fused—bone-deep, grown into the shape of my skull. Every breath made them shift. Every sound sharpened.

  Then the tingling started—

  a slow, insect-crawl of static along the rims.

  Not just sound.

  Signal.

  Even through the shield. Even past Valicar’s dampeners. Something was still pressing in. Subtle. Inevitable. A thread in the quiet, pulling tight.

  This wasn’t Dad. Wasn’t Knight’s careful design.

  This was Phoenix—rewriting me, cell by cell. Still treating me like royalty. Still crowning me in silence.

  Because a queen needs to listen.

  So now I had fucking antennae.

  Great. Another “upgrade.”

  Heat rose behind my eyes—sharp, pointless. I’d been losing pieces of myself since I was old enough to walk the palace halls in scrubs and IV lines. Consent was never part of the process.

  So what’s one more cut?

  I didn’t answer the signal. I never will.

  But the ears still twitched.

  “Ahh… little Phoenix. You missed us."

  The voice slithered into my skull—quiet, soft, familiar.

  Too familiar.

  “Valicar,” I snapped. “Shrink the field radius to ten feet. Double shield strength. Now.”

  “Confirmed. Reinforcing integrity. Compression engaged.”

  A low hum pressed around me like a vice.

  And then—

  Silence.

  Total.

  The ears twitched once. Then stilled.

  The Hive couldn’t get in anymore. Not through a shield like that.

  Not unless I opened the door.

  You don’t get to decide what I am, I told the hum in my skull. Not anymore. I’ll find a way to fight you—I swear it.

  But first…

  I need to finish my bath.

  I stepped back and dove head?first into the gel.

  Cool. Heavy. Still.

  When I surfaced the world shredded into detail—each ripple a blade on raw nerves. Fine, I thought, why not.

  I’ll reforge the helmet, carve channels, pad the pressure points. If I don’t, the suit will weld itself over the ears next rebuild and tear them off on the way.

  Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

  “Thanks, Phoenix,” I muttered. “Great gift.”

  Hours drifted by; the gel cooled; my flask ran low. For the first time in what felt like forever there was no gunfire, no screaming—only the hum of engines and the low pressure in my chest reminding me I’m, improbably, alive.

  Day one, I tell myself. Of what, exactly?

  BANG.?BANG.

  A knock at the door.

  Ripples spread across the surface, slow and silent as I ignored it.

  I didn’t want to leave yet. Not this room. Not this quiet.

  Another knock—harder, sharper.

  “Highness!” Lion’s voice. “That scum brought you clothes.”

  I didn’t move. I let the gel close over my shoulders, let the ears breach like fins. Raw, eager—they twitched at every vibration.

  “Fuck off, Lion!”

  A pause. Then, perfectly calm:

  “Very well. I’ll leave them outside the door.”

  Beneath the noise, a second pulse pressed in—static, probing the edges of the quantum cage.

  Not for me.

  Through me.

  It’s been hours now. Phoenix keeps reaching—twitch by twitch, signal by signal—trying to reconnect with the Hive.

  The ears aren’t decoration. They’re transmitters. Tuned to the swarm.

  The shield still holds. But the pull hasn’t stopped. Like clockwork, it presses in every few minutes—searching. Probing. Always trying again.

  I float, gel lapping my jaw, weightless.

  Hope is cheap, I remind myself, but it’s all I’ve got.

  Because I know what’s coming.

  We’re nowhere near the Council—nowhere close. Kael warned me on the long walk, jaw still intact back then: even with the ship jumping through secret wormholes only they knew about, it’ll take years just to reach the Coalition’s outer rim—and the frontline barely holding the Hive back. The galaxy’s too big, the lanes too broken, and every path ahead of us is already on fire, crawling with Hive ships.

  Behind us trails Jericho—my father’s warship, his empire, his ambition.

  The Hive stretches both ways—nipping at our heels, swarming the road ahead.

  Haven’s somewhere forward, but off-course—like a thorn we’ll brush the moment we drift too far.

  Bounty guilds, Coalition patrols, every two-credit prophet and warlord between the stars—they’re all hunting me, convinced I’m the key to the Hive, desperate to drag me in alive or dead.

  Every waypoint is a trap. Every contact, a risk.

  And this ship? It’s just a skeleton crew flying a borrowed flag—after Lion slaughtered the rest.

  To reach the Council, we’ll either have to punch through the whole damn net…

  Or slip around the edges and pray we don’t tear ourselves apart first.

  Either way, this won’t take months.

  It’ll take decades.

  And maybe that’s the point.

  Maybe all I ever needed to do was buy time.

  Time for Julian to finish whatever he started.

  Time for Lion to keep them bleeding.

  Time for Phoenix to reach its final shape.

  I keep switching sides in my own head—preaching hope one minute, feeding on corpses the next.

  Saying I want peace while dragging monsters behind me.

  I don’t even know what I believe anymore. Not really.

  What am I even trying to protect?

  I drained the last of my flask. The burn barely registered. I need more.

  Just to keep the silence from creeping back in—as my ears twitched, listening to something that wasn’t there.

  At least when the whispers were loud, I had an excuse to murder Garin.

  Oh well.

  It’ll take us years to reach the Council.

  Good.

  Maybe that’s the last real advantage I’ve got—time to figure out who I really am. Or at least who I can stand to be.

  But if I’m being honest?

  I don’t think I’m the hero of this story.

  I think I’m just a hypocrite with god-tier trauma, clinging to whatever feels sane in the moment.

  But who am I kidding? I’m not a victim.

  I’ve just been lying to myself.

  Reid believed I was good. Ashly hoped I could be.

  But they don’t know what I’ve done—what I keep doing.

  Lion wants me to embrace it. Father built me for it.

  And maybe I already have.

  Maybe I’ve always been a bad person… and maybe it’s finally time to stop pretending otherwise.

  I tip the flask again. Bone-dry. Figures.

  Shit.

  I might actually kill someone for a drink.