Page 11 of Stars in Nova

He longed for the ink-black sky peppered with stars, where silence reigned supreme. Out there, it was easier to forget.

For they stared. Sometimes they glared.

Whispers rippled in his wake, though most dared not voice them aloud.

Kisan. The man formerly infamous as Ankis.

The mighty annihilator and destroyer. The marauder. The killer of planets.

Infamy earned through blood, fire, and the fury of his vendetta against The Sable Riders, the brotherhood he now called his own.

His former reputation defied death, the burden of his past sins crushing him.

He hunched his shoulders, tamping down his guilt as he prowled towards the ornate, ancient quarter of Eden II stretching ahead of him.

Here, towering Paladian temples loomed, their intricate carvings and grotesque gargoyles a testament to a forgotten age.

The statues’ distorted features fascinated him, relics of another time, hewn from a time when humanity still believed in gods.

The streets bustled around him—merchants hawking trinkets, visitors snapping holograms of the shrines, children darting through the crowds.

He stared at them, aware how apart from them he was.

Even though his brotherhood, the Sable Riders, had welcomed him like a long-lost sibling, he felt like an imposter, like he never fit in with them.

They’d spent years doing good. In contrast, his misspent young adult life had been consumed with exacting revenge on them, on evil, on rampaging, on consolidating enough power to hit out at them.

He’d failed and learned the error of his unfettered hatred.

Despite his sins, they hadn’t abandoned him.

Instead, they’d forgiven him. Kainan, Kage, Riv, Xion, even the gruff Ki’Remi—they had welcomed him into their fold, notwithstanding the past.

However, after the initial reception, they soon returned to their lives.

They had homes and families. Their women—Selene, Harlow, Illanna, Elisa, and Katya—shared the joy of building futures.

Kisan? He was alone—a specter in the shadow of their light.

Fokk.

He tamped the bitter gall from his throat. Making his way down a nondescript archway at the end of an unmarked alley.

The entrance to his intended destination was almost invisible.

He stepped through the portal, descending a spiral staircase lit by floating orbs of blue illumination.

The temperature grew cooler, the walls wetter, the edge of minerals wafting up to meet him as he reached the bottom.

The view opened out to reveal an expansive under-surface lake.

It stretched before him, a vast expanse of crystalline water glowing with an otherworldly azure hue.

Its radiance danced on the grotto walls, reflected and refracted by the stalactites hanging like frozen tears above.

At its center, a circular stage rose over the top, surrounded by pulleys, ropes, and shimmering curtains of mist.

Overhead, thin platforms and wires crisscrossed the cavern, an aerialist’s playground.

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