Page 169 of Scorching the Alien Empire
The memory stokes my fury, my control tightening with a single thought. The barriers constrict, his red eye bulging as I squeeze.
I will never be anyone’s victim again.
“Berserkers, restrain her!” Dracoth, the rude prick commands from my throne, sounding strained by whatever meathead thing he’s doing, even though I’ve already protected the ship. Saved us all.
Typical, even he turns against me.I shouldn’t be surprised. This always happens to me—abandonment and betrayal. He’s obviously just jealous. Just like all my old so-called friends. Jealous of my power, my control, he’s fading from the Gods’ graces while their love formegrows stronger.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t need him anymore.
Oh, I’ll keep him around, of course. The bond demands it, and he can be useful when it suits me. But let’s be honest:I am the one in charge now.
My eyes flick to the bone-through-the-noses lining the walls like tacky statues. I smirk seeing them hesitate, their ash-smeared faces laced with doubt, flicking between each other, the hamster wheels turning in their thick skulls.
My poor, simple Dracoth. They belong to me now.
“You soldiers should relax.” My voice drips with honeyed certainty, a promise woven in molten steel. “Arawnoth commands it.”
As I speak, my fingers trace the flaring runic blessing seared into my chest and neck. The symbols pulse with divine fire.
“That would be the biggest help,” I purr.
The effect is immediate.
Armor clinks in unison as they snap into rigid formation, backs straight, eyes forward. Loyal to me, loyal to Arawnoth’s molten strength.
How wonderful! My heart soars like never before.
Aenarael, are you watching? Are you proud of me, Mother?
I close my eyes for a moment, arms outstretched, drinking it in. Savoring the feeling like a sip of the finest Dom Pérignon.
Then he speaks.
“Like... I said... she’s a... voiding liability,” Drexios croaks followed by choking laughter, the sound strained like it’s coming through a whoopee cushion.
“Shut the hell up!” I snarl, eyes snapping open, fury crackling through my veins.
How is he even speaking? I have him squeezed like an orange in a juicer.
“You’re the liability! A useless smelly dog that bites the hand that feeds it!”
With a flick of my wrist, the barriers crush backward.
The impact slams him into the wall with a sickening thud, armor grinding against stone. A grunt escapes his lips, sharp with pain. Still, the rude prick smirks.
Ugh! He’s so fucking annoying!
“Oh...” He gasps, voice ragged, but there’s something mocking in the way he forces the sound. “...never knew... you cared so much.”
A wet, rasping chuckle.
“That’s it,Pinkie... good and hard...”
Oh, for Gods’ sake. Maybe I should summon a shield just for his mouth.
Instead, I tighten the barriers—a vice of divinity about to pop him like an overgrown zit. His armor groans under the pressure. The tendons in his neck strain like grotesque red worms, his fangs biting into his lip until green blood wells up.
“That’s it... kill me in cold blood... show us who you really are.” He rasps, followed by more grotesque laughter, the sound echoing like a mocking ghost of Christmas regret in the thick silence.
