Page 90 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“Ready.” Princesa tucks another pouch of ash into her robes, then lifts her arms expectantly, as if beseeching me to rain death upon her enemies.
I waste no time, scooping her into the crook of my arm, I take off. Her squeal of delighted shock a pleasure even in this, the darkest of days.
Princesa wriggles, shifting until she finds her most comfortable spot—her rightful place in her second home: my arms. Her sweet, feminine scent lingers, her delicate softness almost enough to cleanse the lingering visions of torment and pain the machine inflicted.
My armored boots pound against the black marble floors in a relentless rhythm. We race through the labyrinthine bowels of my new ship, corridors and stairwells blurring past in a desperate surge of motion.
“Drexios?” I project the thought, sliding my warvisor over my face. My senses sharpen, awareness flooding through me.
“War Chief, the Scythians forgot to pay their Elerium bill,” Drexios retorts, his thoughts laced with amusement. “They’re all voiding deactivated.”
Yes!
The Goddess has weakened the Voidbringer. Weakened the Scythians.
Now’s my chance. The enemy’s throat lies exposed, plump and helpless within my claws. I need only tighten my grip for their lifeblood to spill.
A wicked grin reveals my fangs. “Alert all forces. Shields up. Open fire—maximum force. Exterminate their drones, annihilate their Voidbanes, destroy their networks, bombard their planets. Leave no trace.”
Drexios does not respond immediately. “Have you been raiding the cultist’s scoomer collection?” His thoughts ring with disbelief.
“Do as I command!” I bellow through the warvisor. “Question me again, and I’ll feast on your other eye!”
“You don’t want eyes for where we’re headed,” he replies, amused, yet resigned. “Charging weapons.”
“Quickly.” Impatience crackles through me like a barely contained storm.
The Goddess’s parting warning echoes in my mind, a hazy dream—“The Voidbringer will soon escape. It will seek retribution.”
More reason to defang it now—before it lashes out. This is but one system spanning a vast galactic empire. Yet, a bloodied, broken nose will be enough to give the beast pause. Enough to make it fear what comes next.
“And one for you, little chug bug.” Princesa coos, smearing a streak of ash onto Todd’s overstuffed, segmented head, daringto occupy a space on her supple shoulder. “Scourge the jelly-sticks, embrace the chunk. Let the poops be reborn away from my divine presence.” She nods solemnly, despite Todd shaking his head and clacking his mandibles in protest.
A deep vibration rattles through the ship, reverberating through the dark corridors. The first shots fired. A fight for freedom. Honor demanding retribution, no matter the cost.
Will history condemn or condone my actions? Will any live to tell the tale, or will my vengeance be swallowed by the void, lost to time?
Princesa gasps, her gaze darting around as I charge forward. “Um... what the hell was that?” She strokes Todd’s rubbery body for comfort, unease threading through her voice. “I hope you just ordered an attack with that big, scary mask of yours and we’re not about to be turned into goo—because wee Toddy Woddy just got blessed by his grandmother Aenarael.” She nuzzles the cyloillar, her pitch rising again. “And we wouldn’t want to disappoint her, now, would we?”
“Grandmother Aenarael?” I echo in disbelief, my voice rising above the rhythmic thudding zaps reverberating through the ship. “The Goddess?”
“Yep,” Princesa replies with unnerving nonchalance. “See for yourself.” She plucks the bloated creature from her shoulder with a grunt, its singular black eye reflecting the harsh angles of my warvisor. Then, a faint glow catches my attention—a silver rune etched into Todd’s rubbery flesh. A single word:Mirror.
A warning? A prophecy?That the Gods act so openly would be beyond belief had I not witnessed it with my own eyes.
“It was Aenarael... she’s the one who sealed the Voidbringer,” I mutter, my frown hidden behind my warvisor. With a smooth motion, I detach the mask and clip it to my belt of bones.
Like all the Gods except Arawnoth, I know little of her. Favored by the Virennix Clan, those of the frozen tundras ofAroth. Yet she wielded something akin to mercury, not frost. Unbelievably beautiful, ever-shifting, a thing of raw power and uncanny grace. She succeeded where Arawnoth failed.
“Way to go, Aenarael!” Princesa cheers, pride bursting through our bond. “I mean, I don’t want to brag or anything, but... I might’ve basically saved the entire universe.” She stretches lazily, limbs unfolding like a venefex at play. “She’s my actual Goddess... my divine mother.” Her voice trails off, her gaze drifting as we continue to race through the endless corridors of my colossal ship.
“Don’t get me wrong—she was a real bitch at the start,” she continues, shaking herself from the reverie. “Ah, Babes, it was sorandom. She turned me into a bloody moth and then had me eaten by a massive red dragon... I think it might have beenyou... or something close enough. Insane, right? But I guess she was testing me, because after we beat her in a dragon battle, she decided to help us. Aenarael foretold of Arawnoth’s defeat... of hisdeath... I couldn’t let that happen.”
My mind reels at her revelations, a blurt of confusing words, each more unbelievable than the last. But one thing is clear—Ignixis could have lived.
Anger burns through my veins, hot and seething.
“Foretold—and yet she did nothing?! Ignixis died for nothing. A sacrifice wasted. A fate that could have been stopped!” I snarl, the loss cutting deeper, the claw twisting sharper. Evenhewas misled, a mere plaything of entities beyond comprehension. A cruel truth, too bitter to swallow.
