My beast howled.
I’d been fighting it for so long - using drugs and discipline to cage my Valti nature. But now, watching these guards surround my mate while she lay helpless in that chair...
The change ripped through me. Bones cracked and reformed, muscles swelled and twisted. My disguise split at the seams as my body reshaped itself into something ancient and deadly.
The first firewhip lashed out. I caught it on my transformed arm, letting the beast’s enhanced healing take the damage. Then I was moving, faster than human eyes could track.
The nearest guard’s chest caved under my claws. I threw his body into two more, using their moment of imbalance to close the distance. My enhanced senses tracked every target, every threat to Niam.
Steel flashed as the ceremonial warriors engaged, their swordwork precise and lethal. But they couldn’t match my speed, my strength, my rage. I batted aside their blades, metal shrieking against my claws.
They tried to flank me, to separate me from the chair. I read their intent in their movements - they wanted to contain, not kill. That made them hesitate just enough.
I tore through their formation, leaving broken bodies in my wake. More poured in through the hidden doors, firewhips crackling. Burned flesh permeated the air as their attacks found purchase, but I barely felt the pain.
“Almost there.” Niam’s voice drifted from behind me. “The original protocols are accepting my access, but something’s fighting back.”
I grunted acknowledgement, too focused on the fight to form words. A sword slipped past my guard, drawing a line of fire across my chest. I grabbed the warrior’s arm and used him as a shield against his companions’ firewhips.
The strange gravity of the room worked against them, their movements slightly off as the sphere seemed to rotate around us. I used that, letting my beast’s instincts compensate while they struggled to adjust.
But they kept coming. Every guard I took down was replaced by two more. And they were learning, adapting their tactics. Working together in ways that spoke of long practice.
A firewhip wrapped around my leg, searing through muscle. Another caught my shoulder before I could recover. They were herding me away from Niam, using their numbers to force me into a smaller and smaller space.
“No!” Niam’s cry pulled at my soul. “They’re activating containment protocols!”
I spun toward her voice, but more guards blocked my path. Through gaps in their white robes I saw panels opening in the floor around her chair. Mechanical arms rose up, reaching for her with delicate precision.
My roar shook the chamber. I threw myself forward, tearing through anything in my way. But there were too many. The constant burn of firewhips and the bite of steel slowed me just enough.
The last thing I saw before they overwhelmed me was Niam being lifted from the chair, still trailing crystal strands as the mechanical arms pulled her away.
I fought harder, my beast beyond reason now. But they had the advantage of numbers and position. Firewhips lashed fromall sides, each strike wearing away at my strength until even Valti healing couldn’t keep up.
The world started to go dark around the edges. My last thought was of Niam’s face, and the promise I’d failed to keep.
NIAM
Awareness returned in waves of agony. The priests’ neural mesh burned against my temples - so different from the gentle communion of the original interface chair. But something was wrong. Their integration protocols weren’t gaining the total control they should have.
I remembered being torn from the chair, remembered Tharon’s roar of rage as warriors overwhelmed him. The image of his transformed body falling under their weapons made me want to scream. But I made sure my mind was carefully blank, projecting the empty compliance they expected.
Whether from the pod’s pure protocols still running through my system or the lightning strike’s lasting changes to my neural pathways, I maintained a core of self they couldn’t touch. Before, their control had been absolute - my mind split open and reshaped to their will. But now I could think. Could plan. Could resist.
Through half-closed eyes, I watched Father Aronn monitor my vital signs while Father Zarak paced. Floating displays showed my companions scattered through the rings - Mila and Denna fighting their way clear, Ashur providing cover forretreating rebels, Korrin nowhere to be seen. My friends had risked everything. I prayed they’d reached safety.
“The rebels have breached Fifth Ring.” Zarak’s robes rustled as he moved. “They’re more organized than anticipated.”
“Let them wear themselves out.” Aronn adjusted something that made colors dance across my field of vision. “The guards will contain them.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then we activate the defense protocols. The Temple has survived worse than a few angry craftsmen.”
I let their voices wash over me while my real attention focused on the data streams flowing through my consciousness. The familiar paths sang with information - environmental controls, power distribution, security feeds. But underneath...
A presence brushed against my mind, achingly familiar.