Page 39 of Fourth

“Affirmative.”

He stepped toward her then, not fast, not rough, but direct. His hand closed around her wrist, fingers firm but not painful. His grip steadied her like a silent order, grounding her where everything else seemed like it might fall apart.

“You are safe,” he repeated. His voice dropped low, just for her. “You will remain by my side. No matter what happens.”

A new chime echoed softly through the panel, followed by a final transmission: “Docking in progress.”

Riv’En released her wrist and turned smoothly toward the bridge exit. “Come. We will greet them.”

He led her down the central corridor, steps measured and unhurried despite what was coming. The ship’s ambient lighting adjusted automatically, softening into a pale blue tone Maya hadn’t seen before. She walked close behind him, her robe still faintly orange against his steady green.

At the primary docking bay, the exterior hatch shimmered, disengaging with a low, mechanical hiss. Through the widening seam, Maya saw the edge of another vessel’s entrance platform extending toward them—sleek, shifting in color like the ship outside.

A woman stepped through first: tall and commanding, draped in deeper shades of violet and gold that shifted like living color across her robes. Her features were sharp and striking, her skin holding a faint iridescent sheen similar to Riv’En’s, though more pronounced. Two more figures followed behind her in slightly more muted robes. The lead woman paused just inside, her head tilting in quiet assessment, gaze flicking across Riv’En and then settling briefly onMaya.

Riv’En inclined his head once in formal acknowledgment. “You have entered under parlay code. Conference deck is prepared.”

The Emissary’s voice was calm and resonant, similar to the broadcast tone. “We will speak there.”

The corridor beyond the docking bay opened into a larger chamber—aformal conference room, but nothing like what Maya would have expected from human designs. The walls curved inward slightly, creating a space almost organic, shaped rather than built. Light filtered from translucent panels embedded in the walls, shifting subtly in color: dark blue togreen to silver, never holding steady for long. In honor of the Elaroins?

A central table dominated the room, smooth and pale, as if carved from living crystal. No chairs. Only standing positions marked by subtle floor patterns. Maya experienced a flicker of unease at the absence of chairs, as if there was no intention for visitors to rest or linger too long. Alien, but not hostile—just different.

Maya’s pulse slowed as she took it in. The otherworldly beauty of the room, the quiet importance of protocol, calmed something in her chest. Or maybe it was the Emissary herself. Or the steady, silent presence of Riv’En at her side, close enough that his quiet presence protected her in the strangeness of theroom.

When the woman stepped fully into the room, her presence was even sharper up close. Tall. Composed. And utterly unapologetic in how she moved. There was no grand announcement, no drawn-out formality. Just a sharp tilt of her head and a voice that cut straight to the point.

“I am Vaeyra, Second of Elaros Council, Matriarch Ascendant. Designation: Elaroin Blooded, High Protocol.” Her voice lowered slightly, almost dismissive of her own introduction as she flicked her gaze to Riv’En.

Riv’En inclined his head, his voice steady and absolute. “I am Riv’En, Fourth of Alpha Legion. Assassin-class Intergalactic Warrior. Elaroin blooded by my mother, Vettian by my father.” His words carried the clout of both tradition and power, filling the room with quiet authority.

Vaeyra’s gaze settled finally on Maya, her eyes sharpening. Her attention fell more demanding now. “And what is your designation, little one? Speak it yourself.” Her tone was notunkind, but there was an undeniable pressure beneath the words, as if Maya’s answer mattered in ways she didn’t yet understand.

Maya opened her mouth, pulse stumbling again. The Emissary’s eyes were pale silver, without pupils. Not empty, but full of authority and something almost too intimate, too aware. Like she was being dissected without a scalpel.

She steadied her breath, her voice low but clear. “Maya Anderson. Human. Twin born.” Her own words were louder than she expected in the quiet space, and as they settled, she caught the faintest flicker of something in Riv’En’s stance beside her—not correction, but approval.

Unfortunately, the last part of her designation landed in the room like a dropped weapon.

A quiet ripple moved through Vaeyra’s attendants. Even the ambient lighting shifted, pale blue flickering toward violet for a moment. Astatic charge filled the air, raising the hairs on her skin as if the room itself reacted to Vaeyra’s words.

“A twin,” Vaeyra said, the words slow. Not quite disbelief. Not quite condemnation. But close.

Maya swallowed, her skin tightening all over again. Her robe shifted slightly in color—pale orange darkening to a deeper rust, the visible signal of nerves she could not entirely suppress. The awareness of it made her stomach hollow, as if every eye in the room could see every reaction. There was no hiding behind practiced words or steady posture here. The robe broadcasted her emotions in real time, stripping her bare in a way that left her stomach hollow.

Vaeyra’s head tilted just a little. “That changes things.”

Riv’En shifted beside her, not a full movement, just the faintest adjustment of stance. Her pulse kicked a little harder, not from fear this time, but from that steady, silent awareness of him. Even here, surrounded by strangers, surrounded by rules she didn’t know, he was still hers. And she washis.

His presence gave her the confidence to speak. “Why does my being a twin change things?”

Vaeyra glanced toward her attendants, then back to Maya. “The twin element complicates matters. We do not bond to split souls.”

Maya inhaled slowly. She didn’t entirely understand what that meant, but her voice came out steady. “I’m not split.”

Vaeyra tilted her head again, studying her as though measuring truth in the air. “We shall see.” Her voice softened, just slightly. “Among our people, bonds are singular. Whole. Atwin complicates that purity. One soul, one reflection. When there are two, it becomes difficult to know which part of you answers the bond.” Her gaze held Maya’s steady. “But that does not mean it is impossible.”

For a moment, silence filled the space again. It stretched endlessly, and her pulse settled into the rhythm of it. Then Vaeyra’s voice came again, lighter but no less steady. “You must understand, it is not prejudice. It is preservation. Elaroin balance depends on clarity.” Her pale gaze flicked once more between Maya and Riv’En, weighing them together. “Now. Your purpose.”

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