Page 26 of Vylit: Glowing for Her
"Pirate activity is irrelevant. Unauthorized mating constitutes a breach of contract," the jelly mass gurgled, its words pulsing directly into my brainstem. "Your claim is invalid. The Registry must verify the bond before validation. Otherwise, the mating may be reversed. Sample extraction will commence?—"
A low buzz erupted from the rightmost throne. The elder there leaned forward.
"Let us see the Glow Oath," he rasped.
Everything stopped. Even the Agency execs fell silent.
Vylit’s body tensed. Then he straightened, and for the first time, I saw him truly terrified.
He stepped forward. The healing moss-liner unspooled itself, leaving his upper torso bare to the cold air. The patch of skin over his chest glimmered with bioluminescent circuitry, but instead of the usual pulsing gradient, lines of blue fire started to etch themselves into his flesh… words, patterns, ancient code that burned brighter with every heartbeat.
He raised his arms, exposing his chest to the entire chamber, and began to speak in the old language I recognized from the hammock mating chamber thing.
The translation patch vibrated, trying to keep up, then failed completely as the words came too fast, too raw, too full of meaning that couldn’t be mapped to English. All I caught were fragments:
"…chosen…mine by choice…against the world and all Agency…light of my heart…bonded…"
The blue fire danced, words burning so hot and bright I could see them even with my eyes closed. When I opened them, the entire room was lit in the glare of his declaration.
The Agency execs recoiled, the jelly mass spasmed and lost structural integrity, and even the judges on their coral thrones seemed shaken.
Only then did the translation patch catch up, blurting, "Marital rope declared," in a garbled monotone.
A shock of laughter rippled through the chamber, quick and cruel.
But the laughter didn’t matter.
Because Vylit stood there, chest bared, his Oath written in living light across his body for everyone to see. There was no shame, no hesitation. Just him, and his choice, and the world’s oldest tradition.
I saw him look at me, saw the raw hope in his face.
And realized that everything he’d said to me on the ship—every promise, every oath—had probably been butchered by a shitty translation patch. How much else had I missed? What if he’d never meant to let me go?
I was going to have to check that tech myself.
The ancient judge hissed again, but this time, the sound was almost reverent.
"The Oath is valid. The bond is valid. The mate is valid." One elder called.
Several other judges nodded, and the gold and blue glow in the chamber flared brighter in agreement. I noticed one frowned though.
The Agency execs conferred rapidly, their voices buzzing with panic.
"Invalid registry," one tried again, but the words sounded weak, lost.
Vylit stepped back, lowering his arms, his chest still ablaze with the words.
A projection blinked to life over the pit… Silvyr, but not the smirking, prank-happy Silvyr from the ship. This Silvyr was grim, his silver skin scrolling with lines of code. He projected the stolen data across the air for all to see.
"Tribunal members. Agency. Mavtros." His voice was not human or machine, but something perfectly in-between. "We have traced the source of every pirate attack, every mate abduction, every breach. The Agency network is not only compromised. It is controlled. Asset P routes all traffic, all mate pairing, all genetic matchmaking… through itself."
The display swirled, converging on a single point of light.
"Initiating transparency protocol," Silvyr intoned, the lines of code stacking until a single word blazed across the air, burning so bright it cast shadows.
ASSET P.
A silence so deep it seemed to swallow all noise followed. Even the judges were frozen.
