Page 68 of Stars in Nova

Her speech tightened, but she continued. ‘The cyborgs under Emperor Marius wanted to conscript our people—turn them into their twisted army. They also sought the gems from our lakes, the source of Orilia’s trading power. We refused. So they burned our forests, torched our homes, and drove us underground.’

‘They didn’t just take our land,’ she said, her gaze distant, as though replaying the memory. ‘The Corilians have been stealing our lifeblood—our water. They drained the lakes and emptied the reservoirs. Everything we’d depended on for generations. Gone.’

Kisan leaned forward, his hands resting on the table between them.

Her words hung heavy in the air, and he could see the strain in her posture, the tension in her jaw.

‘The first time they came,’ Samira continued, her voice tightening, ‘we didn’t understand. We thought they were targeting specific sites—strategic points. Then, we realized it wasn’t a strategy. It was annihilation.’

Her hands tightened into fists as she described the sight. ‘They used massive pumps, so loud they drowned out everyother sound that descended on the shores. Metallic arms extended into the water, pulling it into their monstrous tanks.’

Kisan’s mind painted the image: vast metal behemoths perched like parasites on the edges of pristine lakes, their engines roaring as they sucked the life from the planet.

‘The reservoirs were the worst,’ she added. ‘They drained them all, funneling into pipes that led to storage silos surrounding Cygnus. Those silos—’ Samira’s voice cracked, but she pushed on. ‘They now stand like sentinels around the city, towering over the wasteland they created. Anytime we tried to attack and gain control of the tanks, we were met with overwhelming force every time we tried to get near. They guard those silos like treasure.’

Kisan’s fists clenched, sucking his teeth. ‘What did they do with it?’

Samira’s shoulders slumped. ‘Strange ships would come, sleek and silent, appearing out of nowhere. They’d dock with the silos, and the water would be transferred—an entire silo emptied in hours. Then the ships would leave, vanishing into the stars.’

Her eyes met his, brimming with helpless fury. ‘We don’t know where they’re taking it. We only know what they’ve left behind—a planet drying up, turning to dust. We live here because, on the surface, my people are so desperate for a single drink. Children cried because their throats were too dry to swallow.’

The Rider’s throat tightened at her words.

The despair in her voice mirrored the devastation of her people. He imagined the shimmering lakes reduced to cracked basins, the rivers choked into silence, and the vibrant ecosystem of Orilia XIV left gasping for life.

Samira’s voice dropped to a near whisper, trembling with anger. ‘Do you know what it’s like to hear the pumps start at night? To wake to the sound of our planet’s veins being draineddry? The silence after is worse because it reminds you there’s nothing left.’

Kisan’s gaze softened, though his growl remained hard. ‘Why the mask?’

‘Like I said, I discovered it while studying holo-footage of your time as Ankis,’ Samira said, her tone growing more intense. ‘To be honest, Sharin, my engineer, first brought it to my attention. We were fascinated by how it amplified your kinetic pulses, disrupting machines. My people’s fluid kinetics only work through water. We can’t manipulate the air or disrupt electronics the way you did. So your artifact is the key to bridging that gap.’

She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. ‘With it, we can fight the cyborgs on equal footing. We’ve already driven them back in some areas, but we’re running out of time. And there’s something darker controlling them—something not of Crat origin. It’s consolidating its power in the Fringe, and Orilia is just the beginning.’

Kisan studied her, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim light. ‘So you recognized who I was,’ he said. ‘Ankis, the marauder, the destroyer, and still, you seduced me.’

Samira didn’t flinch. ‘It was for the cause. However, I also discerned the purity of your soul, Rider,’ she said. ‘Frankly, I’ve seen many good men turned into cyborgs and forced to kill their families. Being a good person isn’t about what you’ve done in the past—it’s about the choices you make in the present. I got wind of your work as a guard on Eden II and saw how well you treated vulnerable women and children. I sensed I could trust you. That you’re a good man, working hard for penance. That’s sufficient enough for me.’

Her words struck deeper than Kisan expected, silencing him for a moment.

He leaned back, his expression unreadable and his chest’s tightness unexpected.

‘I see,’ he rasped, seeking to avoid a further minefield of emotions. ‘Back to your cyborg army. You’ve quite the conundrum to deal with.’

Samira nodded, her posture relaxing as she took an inhale. ‘So support this cause. Please help us. The mask is the key to saving our people.’

Kisan’s gaze flicked to her face, then to the rebels bustling around the grotto. Despite himself, he detected stirrings of empathy—an emotion he thought he’d lost long ago.

He met her eyes, his growl firm. ‘Your argument is compelling, and I’ll think about it. But first, I want to see it.’

Samira’s lips quirked into a smile. ‘Fair enough. Come with me.’

‘Have at it,’ Samira said, gesturing toward the contested artifact.

She stood at the edge of the workbench in Sharin’s engineering lab, watching Kisan’s every move.

His tall frame seemed to fill the room, his intense aqua eyes fixed on the mask before him.

The intricate object glinted under the overhead lights, its black spinel and embedded circuits a haunting reminder of his past.

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