Page 126 of Stars in Nova

The images flickered like ghosts, dissipating before she could absorb them.

Still, she said nothing.

Each time they returned her to the cell, she sensed their frustration mounting.

The flashes of light grew more frequent, the screams more insistent.

‘You can’t win, Orilian.’

‘Give us what we want.’

‘You’re alone.’

Samira clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as she fought to focus. She permitted the babble to wash over her, their words slipping away like water over stone. She refused to let them sink in.

Her strength came from her love—an anchor she clung to in the storm. Her children, Malik and Liora, their laughter ringing in her memory.

She thought of Misandra, her aunt’s stern but loving presence, and how she’d promised to return.

Above all, Kisan.

His aqua eyes glowed in vivid incandescence in her mind, their intensity grounding her.

She thought of the way his rumbled rasp softened when he spoke to her, the protective way he’d stood by her side.

She remembered the warmth of his embrace, the fire of his touch. She thought of their plans, the promises they hadn’t yet spoken aloud but were etched in their hearts.

‘They won’t break me,’ she whispered, hand over heart, keeping it steady despite the suffocating loneliness.

By the end of the third day, the taunts were erratic.

The Corilians were faltering, unsure of how to shatter her spirit. Their shrieks became sharp and desperate.

‘You’re wasting time.’

‘Speak!’

‘Tell us what we need to know!’

Samira opened her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. ‘You’ll get nothing from me.’

Her words echoed in the chamber, a challenge thrown back at her captors. She straightened her back, her resolve unshaken. Love kept her unwavering, a flame burning within her that no machine was able to extinguish.

The cold seeped into Samira’s bones as she stirred awake on the rough stone floor of the Corilian cell.

Her breath fogged in the frigid air, her muscles stiff and aching from days of captivity. A sour stench filled her nostrils, mingling with the acrid scent of fear and despair.

The cubicle was dark; the only light was a pale red glow from the narrow strip at the top of the reinforced door.

Chains rattled in the distance, accompanied by the thrumming and groaning of cybernetic machinery and the occasional scream. Those sounds pierced her, a haunting symphony of the Corilian insanity.

For it was madness.

She knifed up, her fingers brushing the uneven cell floor.

Her stomach churned with hunger, but the tray of meager food on the ground beside her offered little relief.

A bowl of gray, sludgy protein sat untouched.

---