Dr. H. M. Zaraki:

September 13, 2025

03:12 DST

Fleet Base East

Sydney Australia

----------------------------------------

Gazing up at the stars from the battle-scarred skydeck of the Autumn, their voices echoed in my mind, just as they had for countless years. A constant murmur—a curse and a blessing—foretelling events yet to unfold. Tonight, they whispered once more, repeating words I had heard over two decades ago, words I had desperately tried to forget.

The night I met my late wife, the stars spoke of a prophecy—a prophecy I foolishly believed had nothing to do with me. I asked her if she could hear them. Of course, being human, she could not. But I showed her how to listen, and that was my mistake. Through her, the prophecy came to life:

“Two souls of one heart are destined to collide. A great time of hardship and turmoil will arise. Chaos will reign. Darkness will fall. Soon the time comes, the souls will call. Together they stand, together they lead. Peace and prosperity soon to be. But first, empires must fall, and war must rage. What was undone long ago must be sanctified for the world to know. The hands of time are in motion and this path is set in stone. Leave not to chance, for what is to come we will not leave alone.”

Hearing those words spill from her lips chilled me to my core. I have faced countless horrors in my millennia of existence, but nothing compared to the dread of that moment. Little did I know, the prophecy wasn’t meant for me. It was meant for our unborn daughter and her mate. The stars, in their infinite wisdom, had set a plan in motion through me—one I never saw coming.

For over two and a half millennia, I have walked this earth, witnessing the endless cycle of life and death. I have seen empires rise and fall, and I have seen far too many perish. But I will be damned if I allow the stars to take my only daughter from me because of some cosmic plan. For over two and a half millennia, I have been the master of death, chosen by the stars to wield their power. And now, with war looming on the horizon, I will ensure that my daughter and her mate survive—no matter the cost. What awaits is not just darkness and war, but also the full force of my wrath.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out an orb faintly glowing with an amethyst hue. I held it close, gazing at the essence of my wife’s soul within. Before her death, she had asked me to safeguard her soul, not wanting to return to the circle of life without me. I promised her I would. Life is a cycle, recycling everything—even souls. They can either return to the endless pool of life or be used as energy. But the consumption of soul energy is dangerous, for it can tip the scales between good and evil. My task on this floating rock has always been to collect souls and ensure they return to the pool or are consumed in a way that benefits all races on Earth.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I’ve always found the various human depictions of me amusing—the Reaper, the skeletal figure with a scythe. Some have come close to capturing the essence of my role, but none have truly understood. And while I may no longer wear the cloak, I certainly never needed a scythe.

Closing my eyes, I carefully returned the orb to my coat pocket, feeling its faint warmth against my chest. I looked back up to the stars, their whispers still echoing the prophecy, relentless in their determination to drive it home.

“Whatever your plans may be, you chose me to be the architect of those plans,” I murmured, my voice low and edged with defiance. “You’ve given me little choice in the matter, but know this: you granted me the power to control the fate of life. I can easily use that power to turn the tables. If you take my flesh and blood from me, I will see to it that life ends on this planet you so preciously care for.”

The incessant whispering abruptly ceased, leaving an eerie silence in the night sky. For a moment, I stood there, alone with my thoughts, before slowly turning to make my way back to my quarters within the ship.

“Your flesh and blood is ours to command, as you vowed upon your creation when the world needed you,” a deep, resonant voice thundered in my mind, catching me off guard. I rocked back on my heels, unprepared for their response.

“My vow was for myself, for my own flesh and blood—me, as a being of my own free will,” I retorted, the edge in my voice sharpening. “Not the flesh and blood of my daughter.”

“Your daughter is of your flesh and blood. She is bound to your fate—a fate you chose, a fate you vowed to uphold. You are our instrument, ensuring this world’s survival. She shares that fate. Her star bond links to the boy. Together, they are bound by the same vow. Do not test us, draconian, for we see all and know all. The fate written in the stars is clear. The chaos has begun, and the era of the draconian must take its place on Earth, father of the star-bound. The fate of the world rests in your hands, draconian. Ensure that it survives, and your flesh and blood will endure…”

The voice faded, leaving me standing there, paralyzed by the enormity of what had just been revealed. My daughter and Cayro were more than just fated mates—they were star-bound mates. We… I… We are of royal blood. The stars have willed it. The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me rooted to the spot, my mind trapped in an endless loop of the stars’ words. What does one do when the weight of the world rests not only on your shoulders but also on those of your child? No one ever prepares you for that.

The door to the skydeck burst open, and Andrew rushed out, his face etched with panic and worry as he ran up to me.

“Doc! SkyTeam has been attacked!” he barked, his voice laced with urgency.

My world came to a grinding halt as the words struck me with the force of a hammer…