[Xebec’s PoV]
I could see the nervousness flicker in his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. That tiny tremor told me everything I needed to know.
Oh, how I wished I truly knew what the Ferans were planning, where they were moving their pieces. But even without that knowledge, I had one advantage, I could still get under this man’s skin.
I leaned closer to the camera, letting my scaled features catch the light in just the right way. My voice dropped lower.
"Tell me, Vaelix... do you really think the Ferans can have it all for themselves? You don’t actually believe you can escape our gaze, do you?"
There it was, the smallest twitch at the corner of his eye. He was afraid. He could bury it behind a mask, but not from me. Now I was sure.
Still, he kept his tone neutral as he answered.
"What do you mean, Xebec? Everyone knows it’s you Nagas who take everything. We just scrape up the leftovers you drop."
I tilted my head slightly, giving a slow nod.
"Good answer," I said. "But not the one I’m expecting. You won’t escape my gaze, Vaelix. I heard you found something. They’re sending you for it, aren’t they?"
He scoffed, trying to sound bored, but the edge in his voice gave him away.
"We found nothing. As I said, I’m just going on a trip to get a new wife for myself. Now if you’d kindly get the hell out of my way, I’ll continue on my journey."
I let a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth.
"All right, if you say so. I’ll be sure to visit your home to meet your seventh wife, then. Give her my best wishes."
I gestured with a flick of my hand.
"Let them pass," I ordered my crew. Our ship shifted, moving aside to allow them through.
The rhythmic sound of heels clicked behind me. I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.
"Why are you letting them go?" my assistant Riya asked.
"It was an order," I replied, my eyes never leaving the screen as their ship slipped away into the dark. The feed faded and the room felt suddenly too quiet. My thoughts drifted back to my conversation with Xeron.
The pieces had a name now: the Ferans. They were running a filthy trade out in the remote sector — slaves and stolen information sold to the highest bidder. Xeron hadn’t heard it secondhand. The lead had come straight from Azalea.
Azalea. The name landed in my chest like a punch. She had been brilliant, dangerous, the one I used to chase. We all believed she was gone for good. We were wrong.
She had come back, but she was not herself. A woman with a grandmaster’s posture and the empty look of someone who’d been put through the grinder. Her eyes were colder, her face marked by whatever the Ferans had done.
Hearing it made my jaw go tight. I felt my fingers curl, hard, until my knuckles ached. Everything inside me sharpened into a single thought. This wasn’t about politics anymore. It was personal.
"We would make them pay," I said, low and steady. The words were a promise I intended to keep.
"Connect me to Xeron." I gave the order.
The screen flickered. A grey room filled the feed, empty at first. I waited. The hum of the ship and the soft click of controls filled the silence.
A figure finally crossed the frame. A hunched woman shuffled in, hair hanging like a curtain over her face. She leaned on a cane and moved like someone dragged from a grave. A wet sound came from her throat. When she turned, a line of drool escaped one corner of her mouth.
I almost stepped back. The sight was wrong, cheap and ugly in a way that made my skin crawl. Rage flared hot and sharp.
"What is wrong with you, Xeron? With your stupid disguises? For Christ’s sake, at least use a decent one." My words came out harsher than I meant.
A rough chuckle answered as the woman wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The laugh was Xeron’s—croaky, full of broken teeth.
"Didn’t like this one, huh? You’d have liked it better if I’d been a bimbo with a big ass and bigger boobs. All you men are the same, chasing bodies, never seeing the soul."
"You’re a man too, you idiot. Can you try a normal disguise for once?" I snapped.
"It is normal," he said.
"No, it isn’t. Your skin’s so wrinkled I might puke my intestines out." My face must have shown it. Even through the feed, the disgust was plain.
He laughed again, wet and stupid. I’d had enough. "Cut the video. Audio only." The screen went black.
"I saw Vaelix and his group pass the border. They’re headed for the remote sector, as we thought. Should I follow?" I asked.
"No. No need to waste time." he replied instantly.
"But did they find something there?" I kept my tone controlled.
"Maybe," he said. "Doesn’t matter. We found something more important."
"What did you find?" I asked.
"Azaelea," he said. "The Matriarch says she...can cross the rank."
The words hit like an unexpected blow. I didn’t move at first.
Then I laughed, the sound breaking the tension.
"If that’s true," I said, more to myself than to him, "I’ll storm the frontlines just to celebrate." The image of Azalea alive and powerful burned cold and bright behind my eyes.
"Alright, alright, calm down. I have a task for you," Xeron’s voice said through the speaker.
The black screen flickered and an image filled the feed.
A boy stood in the center of the frame, barefoot and wearing only a pair of pants. His hair was a mess, his chest bare except for a strange tattoo that appeared like gears. Green eyes burned at the camera with a wild, hungry light. An intense aura seemed to leak from him, dangerous and raw.
"Who is he?" I asked.
"Azalea asked that if we ever see or hear anything about that kid, we bring him to her," Xeron replied.
My face must have dropped. The air felt colder. "Why?" I asked.
"She called him the most talented man she’d ever seen," Xeron said. His tone was even, but there was something like a small smile behind it.