Derek stood staring at Ithara’s lab door for several seconds after Isabelle had left.

  He hadn’t meant to raise his voice like that. Maybe this cursed planet, with all its absurdities, was starting to crack his mind.

  For an instant, he could have sworn she’d been crying. Ridiculous. Isabelle Blackwood didn’t cry. She’d been furious, sure, but winding people up had always been one of his natural talents, nothing new there.

  His fingers curled into fists at his sides. What was he supposed to do, applaud her for it?

  The paladin of Orbisar, Warden of Narkhara, had just declared she was willing to lay down not only her life but Alyra’s too all to protect the Cashnar.

  And that meant him.

  A bitter laugh scraped from his throat as he shook his head. Isabelle was still the same zealous believer he’d first met in the jungle. Against all logic, some part of him had expected her to change.

  His jaw tightened as he turned toward NOVA—only to find a pair of gray-blue eyes locked on him, brows drawn tight.

  Ithara’s stare caught him off guard. She’d never looked at him that way before.

  “Something wrong, Ithara?”

  Her answer didn’t come right away. A faint flush colored her cheeks. “You’re a true genius. You built this incredible armor, you created Vanda, you’ve taken down enemies stronger than you with nothing but brains and strategy. I admire that.”

  Derek gave her a crooked smile. “Well, thanks. I’ve also been lucky. More than a few close calls and—”

  “Then how can you also be such an idiot?” she snapped.

  He froze, the smile slipping. Definitely not a compliment. “You mean with the armor? Did you spot a design flaw?” He waved toward NOVA.

  “You just let Isabelle walk out of here?”

  He dragged a hand down his face and rolled his eyes. “Female solidarity, huh? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Isabelle crossed a line, and she knows it. Honestly, I didn’t think she had it in her. And that’s saying something, because I pretty much expect anything from anyone.”

  Ithara studied him like he was some gadget sparking in the wrong place. “Are you seriously joking right now? I know you sometimes say the opposite of what you really think.”

  “It’s called sarcasm, and no, this is one of the rare times I’m not using it.” His eyes narrowed. “You want to tell me what this is about?”

  She jabbed a finger toward the door. “She cares about you. She risked everything for you. She told me she left her post in the jungle because she dreamed she’d meet you.” The edge in her voice lingered a moment too long, sharper than concern alone.

  Derek’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “See? That’s not caring about me.” He tapped the side of his head in a slow circle. “She’s convinced I’m the Messiah of Steel, so she tries to protect me at all costs. Literally. That lunatic would burn Rothmere to the ground if it meant keeping me alive.”

  Ithara’s jaw tightened. “You think that’s all she sees in you? Just the Messiah?”

  He dragged his nails through his beard. “No. She also sees me as a reckless idiot, a cynic, an irresponsible guy with zero faith. For the full list, just ask her, she’d be thrilled to recite it.”

  Ithara’s eyes widened, her lips parting. “You honestly believe the woman who just walked out that door thinks of you that way?”

  Derek cleared his throat. “Let me guess, you’re about to tell me I’m wrong.”

  She shook her head, disbelief tightening her features. “I think she genuinely values you for who you are. She’d feel the same even if you weren’t the Cashnar.”

  He let out a dry chuckle. “And that’s where you’re wrong, Ithara Myreth. I remember exactly how she treated me at the start, before she bought into the whole Messiah thing. Nothing friendly about it, believe me.”

  “And how long before she changed her mind?”

  Derek lifted a shoulder. “Couple of days, maybe.”

  “Seems normal to me. Relationships don’t form overnight. She barely knew you.” There was a sharpness under her words, something that didn’t sound entirely neutral.

  He exhaled hard and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do, but you’re way off. Isabelle’s… determined. Got more balls than a cannon factory, and after seeing her in action I almost believed she wasn’t just made of dogma and duty.” His mouth twisted, the smile bitter. “I trusted her.”

  Ithara folded her arms across her chest, chin lifting. “And?”

  He wagged a finger once. “Can’t tell you what happened. Just know she broke that trust.”

  Ithara nodded slowly. “I see. She betrayed your trust.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “And you think that’s nothing?”

  “Not at all.” Her voice stayed calm, but her arms tightened across her chest. “I was just wondering how many times you’ve done the same to her.”

  Derek’s mouth opened, ready to fire back, but no words came. His usually sharp tongue stalled, replaced by flashes of every time he’d ignored Isabelle’s advice. Uriela. The entire council. Sierelith… and probably more if he cared to count.

  Stolen story; please report.

  He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “What she did was different.”

  “How?”

  Different because she’d nearly gotten Alyra killed just to save him. But saying that out loud meant admitting the truth about the death sphere and Ebonshade and that wasn’t happening.

  Telling anyone, even Ithara, would put Alyra in danger.

  He turned his back on her and strode toward NOVA, fingers brushing the scarred armor. “Let’s drop it. The suit’s still in bad shape, and I don’t know when I’ll need it again.”

  Ithara hesitated a moment before snatching a tool from the bench. She stepped up beside NOVA and bent over the open plates. “Do as you like,” she muttered. “But you’re making a huge mistake with her.”

  Derek let out a low grunt and didn’t bother arguing. She could think what she wanted. Either way, it wasn’t her business.

  The two of them worked in silence after that, their words limited to the occasional instruction about bolts and circuits.

  Derek staggered out of the lab, legs heavy and shoulders sagging. The sun was already dipping toward the horizon, its light staining the sky in fading orange. Every muscle ached, exhaustion weighing him down like lead.

  He took the long corridor leading toward the Citadel’s archives and library. Tall windows spilled bands of amber light across the stone floor, painting the walls in shifting patterns of gold and shadow. Dust motes drifted lazily through the glow, stirred by the faint echo of his footsteps.

  Only a few figures moved through the hall in silence. Robes ranged from plain to lavish, some of them carrying tomes or instruments whose purpose he couldn’t even guess. At the sight of him, heads dipped and footsteps quickened.

  Apparently, he hadn’t managed to make himself very popular here either.

  All the better. He didn’t want distractions. Too much to do, starting with finding a way to repair his power armor.

  Fixing NOVA without the Repair Bots was starting to feel hopeless.

  He used to brag he could strip and rebuild the suit blindfolded. Now the damn thing felt like an impossible puzzle. For every system he understood, two more cropped up that he’d never seen before, and that didn’t even count the so-called “magical” crystal components woven through its guts.

  Every time his auric level ranked up—whatever the hell that meant—the circuitry shifted. Wires rerouted, boards replaced themselves with new ones he couldn’t even name.

  The last jump—three full levels gained after taking down that creature in Ebonshade—had rewritten half the armor. Entire new subsystems had appeared. Power conduits had doubled, actuators reinforced the stress points. He could’ve sworn the suit even stood taller than before. Probably just his imagination. But then again, what about this world made sense anymore?

  The only reference he had were the schematics the Repair Bots had uploaded to Vanda before disappearing to who-knew-where. They’d never abandoned him before. Not when it mattered. And now they were simply gone.

  He’d done his best to follow their instructions, careful not to screw up… but half the time his hands moved over components he didn’t even recognize.

  Given a few months and the comfort of his old lab, he might’ve unraveled the whole mess piece by piece. But out here? Time was a luxury he didn’t have. Tinkering would have to wait.

  He had other investigations to deal with.

  He stopped in front of what he guessed was Erasmus’s study and knocked.

  “Come in!” came the sharp reply.

  Yeah. Definitely not a people person.

  Derek shrugged and pushed the door open.

  The smell of aged parchment and incense rolled over him, thick and heady. Light filtered through stained-glass mosaics, painting the room in fractured reds and golds.

  Erasmus didn’t even glance up, his nose buried in a massive tome sprawled across a desk drowning in manuscripts and maps. Some of them looked suspiciously like star charts.

  Derek stepped in further, eyes sweeping the study. Years of lifting relics from ancient ruins had trained him well. He usually could spot the most interesting pieces in a room within seconds.

  The walls were crammed with shelves of leather-bound tomes, their spines sealed in crimson wax. Probably the infamous restricted collection. He smirked. For once, picking out the most valuable loot wasn’t hard.

  In one corner, a brass celestial globe and an antique astrolabe threw golden reflections across the walls, flanked by tapestries depicting scenes of divine revelation.

  If Erasmus really studied the skies, maybe he could help pinpoint the planet’s location. Derek had never bothered with that. Without a starship, there hadn’t been much point. Vanda hadn’t been able to determine their position just from sky readings, but maybe those charts could.

  Finally, Erasmus looked up from his tome and stiffened. He shot to his feet, nearly toppling his chair. “Cashnar! I wasn’t expecting you. I told you I would come once I had discovered something.”

  Derek raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. Had a little time to kill, thought I’d check in. And really, enough with the ‘Cashnar.’ Call me Derek. We’re partners now.” He added a wink that landed somewhere between teasing and provocation.

  Erasmus’s lips pressed into a thin line, as though the casual tone scraped against every fiber of his discipline.

  Truth was, given the choice, Derek wouldn’t have trusted the man with his trash. But for this job, there wasn’t anyone else he could ask, so he might as well make the guy feel important.

  Erasmus blinked twice and, right on cue, dipped into an obsequious bow. “You do me great honor, Cash—er, Derek.”

  “That’s better. So, have you found anything yet?”

  The bow straightened into a brittle smile that quickly melted into a frown. “To uncover what you seek, we must go far back into Elyndra’s history. The origins of the Cashnar prophecies date back nearly two thousand years.”

  Derek’s brow shot up. “Elyndra? What’s that? And how the hell is your history that old? Interstellar travel’s only been around for a few hundred years at most.”

  Erasmus froze, confusion flickering across his face. “Is this… meant to be a jest? And what, exactly, are… ‘interstellar travels’?”

  “Joke? No, not a joke.” Derek rubbed his temple. What the hell was this guy babbling about?

  The Archivist cleared his throat, straightening his robes. “Elyndra is the name of the world, of course. Where did you think you were?”

  “What? No, of course, obviously this is Elyndra, sorry. Just tired.” He forced a weak grin. Truth was, he’d never even asked what the planet was called. Any name the locals—cut off from technology for centuries—used would never have shown up in a proper database anyway.

  Which brought him back to the more ridiculous part. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Just now… maybe you meant ‘two hundred’ years. Thought I heard you say the history was two thousand years old.”

  “I said two thousand because it is two thousand years old,” Erasmus replied, voice clipped. “The books have been recopied over time to preserve them, but the writings are clear. And some go back even further.”

  Derek’s throat tightened. “How much further?”

  “The earliest historical records date back five thousand years. Primitive inscriptions—undecipherable—but certainly of human origin.”

  The floor seemed to tilt under him. He braced a hand against the wall to steady himself. Five thousand years? Back then humanity had barely started scratching symbols into clay tablets. How the hell had they gotten here?

  Erasmus stepped toward him, concern flickering. “Are you… feeling all right?”

  Derek rubbed at his temple, the weight of it pressing in. Everything he thought he knew about this place was wrong. Five thousand years ago, humans hadn’t even fully colonized Earth, let alone reached a planet this far out.

  That left only one possibility: someone had brought them here. Someone who’d had interstellar tech millennia ahead of schedule.

  Only one name fit. “The Wardilai…”

  Erasmus blinked. “What?”

  “Thinking out loud about the origins of human settlement here. Does the name ‘Wardilai’ show up in any of your texts?”

  Erasmus shook his head. “If it’s a name you’ve learned recently, five thousand years ago it was probably something else. We’d have to look for a similar root. For example, the name Vardunai is close.”

  “Vardunai. Possible. What does it mean?”

  Erasmus arched an eyebrow. “Naturally, they were the gods said to inhabit this world before men. It’s something we teach children.”

  Derek’s pulse jumped. Maybe the Wardilai really had lived on Elyndra. If they’d colonized half the galaxy, why not here? And if that were true, there might even be a Kolaar Node hidden somewhere.

  But the thought carried a darker weight. Thousands of years ago, they’d brought enough humans here to build a colony. Why? For what purpose?

  Erasmus shifted in his chair, fingers brushing the edge of his tome. “It seems your interest may be drifting toward a different line of research. Shall I continue with the origins of the Cashnar legend, or focus on the Vardunai and their connection to the first men?”

  Derek glanced at his hand. The tips of his fingers trembled, just barely. His whole conception of the world had been flipped on its head. He needed time to process the implications, but not now. He curled his hand into a fist and drew in a long breath. Calm down. Focus on immediate priorities.

  “No. Keep going with your research on the Cashnar, Erasmus. I need to know everything about it… about me.”

  He dipped into a deep bow before settling back into his chair. “As you wish.”

  Derek turned and pulled the door open. Before stepping out, he looked back at the Archivist. “Erasmus?”

  The old man lifted his head from the book, brows arched. “Yes?”

  “Mind if I take some of your star charts? Sky maps, or whatever you call them around here.”

  The Archivist blinked, lowering his gaze to the spread of parchment across his desk. “Oh, you mean these? Of course, take them. Not many here in the Citadel concern themselves with astronomy. Anything not tied directly to the power of the spheres tends to be overlooked. I find it fascinating.”

  Derek’s mouth twisted into a wry smirk. “Yeah, been there. Trust me, stars are much more fascinating if you stick to watching them from a distance.”

  Erasmus studied him for a long moment, as if weighing whether it was sarcasm. At last he gave a slow nod. “I’ll take your word for it on that matter.”

  Derek smiled faintly. “Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”

  The Archivist dipped his head in a short bow. “I merely fulfill my humble duty as Archivist.”

  Derek returned the nod and shut the door behind him.

  Alone again, he looked down the corridor.

  The silence pressed in, broken only by the distant toll of a bell.

  He walked a few steps, then halted.

  Beyond the tall window, the jungle stretched to the horizon, dark, endless, mysterious. Who knew how many other wonders this world still kept hidden? For the first time, the thought of being trapped here didn’t bother him entirely.

  There were still countless mysteries waiting to be uncovered.

  Every move he made on this planet seemed to drag him further from the truth. The more he dug, the heavier and more tangled the mystery grew.

  But at least now, he had a name for the place.

  He was on Elyndra.