Page 78 of Torn from the Alien Commander

Rocks closes her eyes, her breathing heightening, while Krogoth stands, his eyes flicking between Tyrxie and me. “You can use any emotion... even anger and hate,” Tyrxie interjects, her teeth clenched as if she’s channeling sympathetically with them. “You can feel it inside, like a joining, being connected.”

Krogoth nods with a knowing smile—anger, an emotion we Klendathians wield like a weapon. His fists clench, his chest rising and falling with great breaths, charged like a venefex about to pounce. Rocks gasps, her eyes flicking open, now awash in hues of purple. “I can see it!” she exclaims, amazement inher voice yet her gaze appears glassy. “The world of flaming emotions that Machsin could see.”

“Pebbles, I can sense your essence in mine!” Krogoth says with elation. His purple eyes glow and mist with jarring swirls of hazel. He extends an ominous arm, filling me with concern, for his power is immensely dangerous.

“Careful brother,” I urge with a placating hand. “Away from the hull or us.” I let out a nervous chuckle.

Krogoth laughs. “Relax, Xandor, I’ve done this before, like a dream within a dream.” His arm points towards an empty portion of the training hall, and an orb of shimmering nothingness appears, like a black hole sucking in the light and anything unfortunate enough to be close. Tyrxie gasps, holding a hand to her mouth as my heart thunders in my chest.

“You two should be closer,” Krogoth laughs, pointing at Tyrxie and me. Suddenly an immense force pulls at my left side, dragging with irresistible force until my love and I are unceremoniously pressed together in an embrace that’s anything but comfortable or natural.

“Very funny, Krogoth.” I sigh, with a calmness I don’t feel. But I know Tyrxie and I are safe, seeing the future paths. “Like giving a wild borack the ability to fire plasma,” I jest.

The immense pressure falls away as quickly as it came, and my Tyrxie exhales loudly, clutching me in desperate panic, filling me with annoyance at my old friend. Krogoth’s face takes on a look of concerned regret. “Little Tyrxie, I never meant to scare you.”

“Apologize, Krogoth!” Rocks demands, her voice carrying an unnatural element that pierces the senses and reverberates in the mind in an unsettling way.

Krogoth freezes as if stuck by a torrent of icy water. His eyes bulge and his body trembles, hinting at an internal struggle. “My profound apologies, Xandor and Tyrxie,” he mutters through tight lips, and to my amazement, he prostrates himself before us.I look at Rocks in disbelief as she stares at her Mortakin-Kai with growing concern.

“Stop, Krogoth,” Rocks urges in her normal voice, rushing to help the bowing Krogoth from the ground. She might as well be pulling on a mountain as Krogoth continues to bend before us. I exchange a grimace with Tyrxie, the sight of my friend’s dishonor turning my stomach.

A power to reduce the most noble warrior to disgraceful debasement.

A shudder cascades through me.Thank the Gods Rocks is on our side.“Project into him. Or he’ll be like this for a while,” I say, looking toward Rocks. She nods, taking a deep breath to focus her attention on Krogoth. No words are spoken. Something unseen and unique to her Gods-given gift takes place, releasing Krogoth from his mental servitude.

Krogoth jolts upright, his breathing ragged, looking at Rocks with a frown. “That was... unpleasant,” he intones.

Rocks places a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Krogoth,” she says, shaking her downcast head. “I had no idea that would happen.”

Krogoth smiles at her, leaning down to rub his nose against hers—the big romantic. “You two possess the most dangerous gifts. You’ll need to practice, learn to control them, and summon them at a moment’s notice.”

Krogoth nods, his eyes a little distant, while Rocks fondles her Elerium necklace, her mouth scrunched up. “This chieftain who’ll challenge Krogoth, why can’t I just command him to stop or even...” She looks away. “Kill himself?”

“You could, but it won’t end well.” I smile at her, already having seen the future paths where Rocks does those very things. “The others will know you acted against him in a dishonorable way. And any command you give will only last minutes.” I let out a short laugh. “Unless you plan to live together, it’ll only delay the inevitable.”

“Hardly!” Rocks scoffs, “As if I’d live with some asshole who wants to kill my Korgy,” she asserts as Krogoth places an arm around her shoulder. “But thanks,” she nods to me and then Tyrxie. “Thank you both for giving us a chance.”

“Happy to help,” Tyrxie says sweetly, inclining her head.

I grin at Rocks. “More than a chance if you both practice.” I can already see the future paths leading into oblivion fading away, becoming weaker at my intervention. It fills me with relief as the results of losing Krogoth would be catastrophic—not to mention I love him like a blood brother.

And just like brothers—sometimes there’s sibling rivalry. “What do you say, Krogoth?” I nod towards a rack of wooden weapons. “A friendly duel to shake some dust off.” Rocks frowns, Tyrxie gasps.

Krogoth glances at Tyrxie and then at me. My heart pounds in my chest, eager to test myself, eager to prove myself worthy. His expression shifts to pity, unwarranted and twisting my stomach with shame. “After our last bout, and now with your impairment. I would not wish to shame you, brother.” He shakes his head.

He thinks me even less of a contest than last time, but things have changed—I’ve changed.

“Careful, old friend, you may end up eating those words.” I glare at him, my tone an icy promise. Krogoth continues to scrutinize me, as if weighing every ounce of my being, probably imagining how to defeat me in a way that’ll let me save face before my Tyrxie.He is a good friend.“If I give you a poor contest, I’ll never ask again,” I promise, sweetening the deal.

Krogoth sighs, an irksome look of concern in his purple eyes that scuffs my pride. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, stalking over to the weapon rack, selecting a large rectangular shield that covers most of his left side and a wooden ax. “And I have a long memory,” he chuckles, betraying a hint of menace.

“I better win, then,” I reply, turning towards the other weapon rack. “Eight hundred years is a long time to go without my regular beatings,” I jest, knowing If I have the strength to follow the paths, he won’t land a single blow—if.

I frown at the array of wooden weapons, lacking a large enough sword to mimic my new laser weapon. Instead, I opt for a long staff, grasping the firm wood in my hand, admiring the many dents and spits along its length—each one a tale of its own. “Xandor,” Tyrxie whispers, taking me by surprise, clutching my wrist.

“Oh, hail my love,” I retort with a smile, gesturing with my staff. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy,” Tyrxie mutters, glancing over her shoulder at the towering Krogoth. “He’s voiding massive... and not to mention scary.” Her voice is almost inaudible.

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