Page 71 of Stars in Nova

His sculpted jawline blurred and shifted, and his luminous green eyes burned brighter, piercing the translucent facets of the spinel.

The glow of his mask pulsed in time with his heartbeat, casting eerie patterns of light and shadow across the walls. His already imposing presence transformed into something otherworldly and dangerous.

His vocalization carried a metallic resonance layered with echoes of past ominousness when he spoke. ‘Get to the rally point, Samira. I’ll be right behind you.’

She hesitated, her fingers still resting on his arm.

His muscles, sinewed from years of combat, were coiled with tension, vibrating with restrained kinetic energy.

She sensed the raw power emanating from him and the air charged with his volatile might.

‘Kisan?’ she murmured, husky with awe and concern.

His head rotated toward her, and the mask’s shifting light created a distorted image of his face. ‘I said, I’m fine.’

His tone was biting and hard, the menace in his inflection undeniable.

The mask amplified everything about him—the substance of his authority, the quiet danger in his presence, the simmering rage that threatened to consume him.

Samira nodded, her jaw tightening as she twisted to Sharin. ‘Let’s head out. Now.’

The engineer glanced at Kisan, who was uneasy, but she obeyed without question and hastily packed her tools and equipment.

Both women’s boots echoed through the cavern in seconds as they disappeared into the darkness.

Charged Undercurrents

Kisan raced ahead, his movements fluid yet charged with power.

The mask’s energy seemed to ripple through him, enhancing every motion, each breath.

His black tactical suit, sleek and imposing, appeared to be an extension of the mask, its matte surface reflecting green highlights from the glowing spinel.

As he followed Samira and Sharin toward the exit, the stone fortifications trembled under the advancing footsteps of the Corilian forces.

The rhythmic clang of metal feet reverberated through the tunnels, growing louder with progressive seconds.

Kisan’s hand flexed at his side, and a shockwave rippled outward from his fingers, the pressure enough to dislodge small rocks from the walls.

Samira glanced back at him. ‘Damn, you’re one scary mofo,’ she breathed as she took in the transformation.

He felt it, too.

He was teetering on the edge of his darkness, on the precipice of reverting to Ankis.

He shivered as his essence shifted in entirety.

Gone was the quiet, brooding man with a defeated soul; in his place was a force of nature, a weapon forged into flesh.

Yet even in his terrifying presence, Samira’s gaze at him was achingly warm, with an undercurrent of compassion that made his chest tighten.

‘That you are willing to step back into your nemesis for us moves me greatly,’ she whispered.

She understood the cost.

Fokk, she was incredible.

‘Kisan,’ she said again, her voice firmer this time, ‘this way.’

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