Aurania sat in one of the central chairs, her hands folded loosely in her lap, one knee resting atop the other. Across from her sat Pulse, docked with them once more so they could all touch base and debrief about what had happened. He had just transferred their share of the bounty—easily enough credits to buy supplies that would last them over a year.
Not that Nox had that long.
The holo-display showed the sum in neat, sterile digits. A small fortune.
But it felt tainted.
Pulse broke the silence first. “Our deal stands. I’ll help you reach Solaceum and get your schematics. I’m a man of my word.”
Aurania studied him for a moment. His words carried no boast, nor any attempt to soothe—just a blunt promise. That was worth something, at least. But her mind was elsewhere, chewing on the image of burned silhouettes and molten decks. She let the silence linger another breath, then asked with a tone sharper than intended: “Any idea what actually took out that pirate base?”
The question just hung there. Pulse’s shoulders shifted slightly, but the thin blue visor that hid his eyes didn’t leave hers. He didn’t answer right away.
It was Echo who spoke instead, her voice bubbling up from the mask, warm and incongruously bright in the heavy air. “I’m not sure why they seemed to think Soren was the cause, but… there is some technology that technically exists that could be the answer.”
Several heads lifted at once. Tamiyo’s antennae flicked as the CIPHER leaned forward, her voice edged with curiosity. “What technology would that be, Echo?”
Echo’s tone shifted, growing uncharacteristically grave. “The Conservatory has developed single-use Aether Dust injections. It’s a one-way shot that gives someone superhuman abilities. But the trade-off is fatal. Within a day, maybe sooner, their body burns out and they die.”
A low murmur rippled through the room.
Tamiyo spoke up again, looking more at the team than at Pulse and Echo. “We found basic plans for something like that back in The Cradle.”
Pulse’s masked head tilted. “What’s The Cradle?”
The air in the ops center shifted, and Aurania felt every eye flick toward Tamiyo. She kept her own expression neutral for a second before letting out a small, awkward chuckle and saying, “Uhh… nothing?”
The silence stretched, taut as a drawn bowstring, but neither Pulse nor Echo pressed further.
Finally, Veolo broke it, her tone sharp and skeptical. “Even if the Conservatory has that kind of tech, why the hell would they waste it on a bunch of slavers? What’s the point in torching some pirate base in the middle of nowhere?”
Inelius shifted, his lower arms folded. “Maybe it wasn’t about the pirates. Could’ve been a test site. A convenient target for a demonstration. Or a false flag op—wipe them out, then point the blame where they want it to go.” His snout twitched faintly. “Wouldn’t be the first time a government staged its own nightmare to spin a story.”
Echo’s voice chimed in before the weight of his words could fully settle. “Someone also could have stolen some of the injection. It wouldn’t be easy, but it’s not impossible. A desperate operative, a rogue faction, someone inside the Conservatory with their own agenda. Maybe one of the pirates grew a conscience and turned on their allies in a suicidal run of moral redemption—who knows.”
Pulse’s head shifted slightly, the mirrored visor tilting toward Soren, who stood leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. “Why did those zealots think he was the one who cleansed that base?”
The room seemed to grow heavier. Soren didn’t answer—his jaw was tight, and Aurania could feel how tense he was coiled even without their mental link.
Tamiyo answered, her voice steady but cautious. “Because he could have.”
Pulse looked toward her. “Meaning?”
Aurania exhaled through her nose, her tone clipped. “Meaning Soren has abilities. Unstable ones. If he doesn’t keep them under control, they can be… destructive.”
That hung in the air like a loaded gun on the table. Pulse let out a low sound, more an exhale than a laugh. “Destructive,” he echoed quietly. His body language betrayed skepticism, but he didn’t push further. The visor turned back to Aurania.
She met his gaze without flinching. “Speculating about what happened back there isn’t going to get us closer to answers. What matters is Solaceum. That’s where our focus has to be now.”
Pulse gave a short nod. “Agreed. Before we hit Solaceum, I’ll need to refuel and pick up a few things. Nothing major, but if I’m going to help you breach the most secure planet in the galaxy, I’d rather not do it running on fumes.”
Brolgar’s deep voice rumbled in from where he was perched far back in a corner. “Couldn’t hurt fer us t’stock up too. We’re out behind enemy lines here—no tellin’ when the next chance will be.”
Aurania glanced at him, then back to Pulse. “Fair point.”
Tamiyo’s antennae twitched as she spoke up, her voice calm and measured. “I’ll go with him.”
There was a bout of overlapping voices, all in heavy protest.
“Enough,” Tamiyo spoke up, surprisingly firm. “The more time we spend hanging out around whatever station Pulse plans to stop at, the higher our risk of being discovered. More hands means less work. I can blend in easily enough if I pose as his personal CIPHER. The rest of you would blend in like Soren on Lacravi.”
The room exchanged glances, but no one challenged her logic.
“I’ll go too,” Raine added quickly, crossing her arms as if daring anyone to object.
Veolo scowled, her ears flicking back. “I don’t like it. Pulse seems nice enough, but we just met the guy. What’s to stop him from betraying us? Or tipping someone off for a better payday?”
Amalia, lounging sideways in her chair, flicked a look at Veolo. “Don’t forget, Riza vouched for him. That counts for something, I don’t see a reason to doubt him.”
Inelius leaned forward, tone deceptively casual but his eyes hard. “With both Tamiyo and Raine gone, who exactly is supposed to fly the ship?”
Raine rolled her eyes, smirking at him. “You will, silly. You’ve learned enough to know how—you just have to believe in yourself.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Inelius bristled defensively. “I don’t like the idea of putting you at risk.”
Her smirk softened into something more earnest. “We have to be able to rely on each other. I’ll be fine. And if Pulse does turn out to be a piece of shit”—she turned her head toward Soren—“just send the big guy in after us.”
Pulse let out a short, skeptical huff, his mirrored visor turning toward Soren. “Do you really have some crazy, special abilities, or is this all just some smoke show?”
The ops center stilled so quiet that Aurania’s ears started ringing.
Soren didn’t answer right away. He just stared at Pulse, his jaw set as those green and silver eyes drilled into the man. The silence stretched until the air felt ready to explode.
Finally, Soren’s voice broke the quiet like a low thunder. “I think I trust you, Pulse.”
The Aether Dust ignited.
His hair and eyes burned white in an instant, light spilling out in stark, searing brilliance. The glow carved sharp shadows across the ops center, and the weight of his presence pressed down on the room like an invisible hand. His great frame seemed to vibrate with restrained power, the kind that could level planets if let loose.
“But do not give me a reason to think otherwise,” Soren continued, his voice shaking their bones. “If anything happens to these two under your care, I will tear you and that entire goddamn station apart with my own two hands.”
Pulse had already jumped out of his chair, instinctively putting a few steps of space between himself and Soren. His palms flew up defensively. “Woah, woah, woah—nothing is going to happen to them, I swear! Holy shit!”
Soren let the glow fade, the light in his hair and eyes guttering back to normal like a flame being snuffed.
Pulse exhaled sharply, still holding his hands up for a moment before lowering them. His visor flicked toward Raine as if to confirm this was normal behavior.
Raine only smiled, leaning back in her chair. “It’s good to have a protective big brother.”
Echo’s warm, chirping voice cut in without missing a beat: “Keyword: big.”
Several hours later, the crew had gathered in the common room, the usual din of clattering dishes and soft conversation muted but present. Brolgar had filled the space with the earthy scent of roasted vegetables and thick stew, a meal hearty enough to ground even the most restless stomach. The wide viewport gave an ambient view of their ship hurtling through the stars, casting the room in soft, ambient light.
The Cradle of Gravity was adrift in the quiet lanes of deep space, Aether Core running steady. They were on their way toward Outpost Meridian, a refueling stop and supply depot deep in Conservatory controlled space—the cloaking system their ship was equipped with would soon prove very handy. Pulse flew ahead, The Ghost Step gliding like a shadow, his pathfinder beacon locked in with their ship’s nav.
Aurania sat back on the long couch, her massive frame relaxed into the cushions. Soren was on the floor in front of her, his head reclined comfortably against her chest. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his ethereal hair, the simple, grounding rhythm keeping her tethered as much as him.
The others had found their own comfortable perches—all huddled close together. Veolo was sprawled sideways across an armchair, Amalia was curled up against Violet, and Raine leaned against Inelius with her tablet balanced on one knee. Tamiyo was up in the cockpit—Brana had joined her to binge watch some serial show.
The quiet moments like these made Aurania love their little family even more.
After the bowls were scraped clean and the warmth of food settled into their bones, the conversation thinned into comfortable silence.
Aurania let it linger, eventually turning her head toward Violet. “How are you feeling after that mission?”
The gunslinger seemed less tense—her shoulders more relaxed, maybe. Violet had been quiet through dinner, her hat pulled low. At the question, she tipped the brim back and met Aurania’s gaze. “I’m good, boss,” she said, her tone surprisingly warm in its ease. “Real good. I appreciate you asking.”
For the first time in days, her smile didn’t look like it was carved from ice. It was small, but it was real. She reached over and slowly ran her fingers through Amalia’s hair.
The warmth in the room lingered for a few quiet breaths.
Then Violet looked around and said. “Do you think we can convince Pulse to sleep with us?”
Amalia giggled immediately. “I hope so, but I doubt it. I get the feeling there’s something we don’t know about him and Echo.”
Violet groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “You weren’t kidding about not being able to find fresh dick on this trip.”
The comment drew a ripple of laughter, but then the quiet settled again, like the weight of the stars pressing against the glass.
Until Raine shot one hand straight into the air. “Who wants to ride the lazarco!”
Inelius shook his head and sat bolt upright. “Wait—what.”
Raine grinned at him, eyes glinting. “One-v-one-v-one. Wrestling match. Cargo hold. No punching—yes, that means you, Veolo. Last one standing gets to ride my boyfriend’s magic cock.”
There was a heartbeat of stunned silence.
Then an immediate, mad scramble—Violet, Veolo, and Amalia all launching up and rushing for the corridor like predators chasing prey.
Raine hopped up after them, tugging Inelius by one arm as he muttered something about not signing off on this.
“Who do you think is going to win?” she asked him with a smirk.
Inelius sighed, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Well, Amalia’s fighting for what she hasn’t tried yet. But Violet…” He shook his head. “She seems like she wants it more.”
The doors slid shut behind them with a hiss, cutting off the muffled sound of shouting and laughter already starting to echo below deck.
Soren and Aurania stayed where they were, watching with grins as the others thundered off. The common room felt suddenly larger, quieter—just the hum of the Aether Core and the faint squeak of Brolgar wiping a surface down.
A minute later, he ambled toward the door, muttered “g’night,” and left them alone.
Soren tilted his head back against her chest, looking up with a crooked grin. “Not tempted to go win the prize yourself?”
Aurania huffed out a laugh, low and rich. “I would, but it would be a conflict of interest.” She looked down into his eyes. “Inelius is second in command.”
“Ah, damn. Shame that.” He looked back down, grinning.
She smirked. “You could go win. Against all three. You and Inelius have a cute bromance.”
Soren barked a laugh, the sound sharp and genuine. “Tempting, Inelius is a handsome man. But I’m a fan of big boobs, and you have him beat in that category by a slim margin.”
Aurania shook her head, laughing quietly.
After a beat of silence, Soren asked, "Hey... how are you holding up? After what we saw back there."
The question caught Aurania off-guard, and she felt the old temptation to throw up a defense on instinct. But she stopped herself, she knew she didn’t need to with him.
“To see a lacravida like that,” Aurania finally said. “It was different from Amaryn, who’d never grown up around sisters. This one… she looked like she had purposely rejected her culture. What could drive a warrior to abandon everything for a myth that demands so much blood?"
Soren was quiet for a moment before he answered. “Do you want me to help you find answers? Or do you just need me to help make it feel less scary?”
It was like her heart had been slapped in the face in the kindest way possible.
“Hey,” she pulled his head back to look him in the eyes, tone filled with mock aggression. “You can’t be that sweet when I can’t fuck you. It’s not fair.”
He smiled up at her, but she saw the sadness in his eyes.
“What about you?” She asked. “How are you feeling after seeing all that?”
She felt the humor drain from him as he looked forward again. He let out a slow breath. “It’s scary, seeing all that destruction… it felt like looking at a darker path I could’ve gone down. If Tamiyo hadn’t found me—if I wasn’t with all of you.” His jaw worked for a moment. “The worst part is not knowing who—or what—actually did it.”
Aurania’s hand kept its steady rhythm in his hair, fingers threading gently through the pale strands. She clenched a gentle fist, and pulled his face back to look him in the eyes. “The destruction back there? You couldn’t have done that. It’s not who you are.”
She saw the gentle shimmer of tears well in his eyes, but he said nothing.
She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Everything will be okay.”
He was quiet for a long moment before murmuring in a small voice, “Promise?”
Her arms wrapped more firmly around him, pulling his head into the swell of her chest. She closed her eyes and took in a slow breath of his hair, grounding herself in the closeness. “Promise.”
Singer Lain: Starbloom
A saint groomed for sacrifice awakens a sleeping serpent and summons and a ruinous, slow-burn love. Divine music, forbidden Heat, and a world where faith has fangs.
- dark romantasy ? slow burn
- a saint who won’t stay silent
- dragon gods, blood-magic, chosen-one fallout
- hearts vs. holy orders
- daily updates!
“A lush, sensual fantasy about power, purity, and the magic that blooms when a girl dares to sing her own song.”
Exiled to fetch the mythic Starbloom, Lain meets Mallow, a roguish herbalist with gentler hands than the clergy’s, and Morgan Balthir, a veinwright whose vows taste like chains. The Underserpent is waking. So is she.