Page 53 of Akur

“One human.” Akur’s growl resonated through the chamber as he swung his blades, re-sheathing them criss-cross on his back with practiced precision. “I knew I needed to find you for a reason. This was it.” His golden eyes blazed with understanding. “Why those foolish Hedgeruds destroyed an entire base and only left with three humans seemed like a failed mission to me. But they left anyway. Hurriedly.”

Nausea rose in her throat as she glanced between them. “Will one of you tell me what he meant by that? Only one human? Why?”

“The orb,” Akur said.

The Tasqal’s posture changed subtly. That slight smile on its lips again. The sight made her blood run cold. Either it was enjoying them piecing the puzzle together or it was delighted they were falling into its trap.

“Speak, Tasqal, or forget about this deal you’re trying to forge here.” She had no real leverage, nothing to bargain with, but she poured every ounce of authority she possessed into her voice.

“The orb requires…direction,” it said, each word precise and measured. “A pilot. A navigator. A being whose lifeblood remembers the way home.”

“A human,” she whispered, understanding crashing over her like ice water. That weight in her throat grew until she could barely breathe. “But you said you already have one of us.”

The Tasqal didn’t blink, but its lips pulled back in that slimy almost-smile. “She is broken. Our pilot cannot harness…it will not work.”

Her eyes narrowed as pieces clicked into place. “I thought you said you needed ahumanto pilot this thing.”

The smile slowly died on the Tasqal’s face.

“We have a being who can operate the device,” it finally admitted. “But he is…blind. He needs a map. A human consciousness to show him the path.” Those terrible eyes fixed on her with burning intensity. “One unbroken human whose mind can be harnessed.”

The Tasqal’s mouth snapped shut, and something flickered in those intelligent eyes. Some secret. A truth still hidden.

“Go to the Citadel of Dawn. Take the ship there,” it said abruptly. “Leave this place.”

“Not without the other humans.” She hardened her voice, refusing to let fear make her weak. Not now, when the stakes were so impossibly high.

“I’m afraid that is not possible.” The Tasqal’s words dropped like stones. “One has already been taken to the citadel. The other is lost on the outskirts in the barren lands.”

The Tasqal placed something on the table—some kind of device—before adjusting its robes with those methodical movements that seemed too human. Without another word, it turned toward the door.

“Wait—” The word burst from her before she could stop it. “What is your name?”

The Tasqal paused, those liquid eyes finding hers one more time. “I cannot tell you. There are certain things you must not know.”

Akur snatched up the device, his gaze shifting between it and the Tasqal. “If we head to this place, this citadel,” he said, voice tight, “what will you do? How do I know this isn’t some elaborate ruse?”

The Tasqal’s lips curved in that unsettling way. “You do not.” Its black eyes met Akur’s with crushing honesty. “Kill me if you must, warrior. But know that without my help, you will never leave this world alive. They will retrieve your human, and humankin, like so many others, will fall.” They stared each other down, years of hatred crackling between them. “The luck of the Gods be with you Shum’ai. May destiny prevail.”

As the Tasqal slipped through the door, she watched it close. The weight of what they had learned pressed down hard. Earth. Humans. Everything was at stake.

She looked at Akur, saw the way his muscles trembled with suppressed rage, the red fin at his nape still blazing. The revelation of his genetic connection to some of these monsters must be tearing him apart. Yet here he was, still fighting, still refusing to give up.

Her gaze dropped to the device, her eyes widening slightly as

Akur activated it and a map appeared in midair, showing a path that would lead them either to salvation or destruction.

“We have to try,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “Even if it’s a trap, even if we’re walking straight into death—we have to try.”

Because the alternative—letting the Tasqals reach Earth, letting them harvest humanity like cattle—was unthinkable.

Akur’s golden eyes met hers, and in them she saw the same determination that burned in her chest. The map between them seemed to pulse with possibility and danger. One path. One chance. The fate of her species hanging in the balance.

And somewhere out there, an orb that held the power to either save or doom them all.

15

Akur

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