The Aetherwing soared through the sky with a gentle grace, its broad wings gliding with the wind rather than cutting against it. The soft vibration of the aircraft only heightened the sense of stillness around them.

Marcus sat in the cockpit beside Alyx and Teroy, staring out at the vast expanse of Citria. His hands were clenched tight in his lap, nerves twisting inside him. Before coming here, he hadn’t wanted to help anyone. He’d preferred isolation, a life away from people and their expectations. His abilities scared him, made him want to hide from the world, not be a part of it. But now, after seeing life beyond Finisterra’s oppressive grip, he felt something stir inside him—a desire to help, to free those who were trapped, like he had been.

Even so, his powers terrified him. He understood their usefulness, but the sheer destructive potential of what he could do weighed on him like a curse. Theoretically, he knew he could slow time, move unseen, and… kill. Without resistance. Without anyone even knowing. The thought alone sickened him. The idea of using his abilities in that way went against everything he believed in, but he couldn’t deny the possibility existed. And that was what frightened him the most.

And then there was the other thing. The presence. It had grown more ominous lately, like a shadow creeping closer, lurking just beyond the edge of his vision. He hadn’t mentioned it to Alyx. How could he? She’d been through enough already. Yet the void lingered, whispering just outside of reality. He could sense it now, watching, waiting. Sometimes, he thought he could hear it too, like a low, distant hum—phantom sounds his mind conjured to fill the void left by his deafness.

He gripped the armrest of his seat, his heart pounding faster. Sleep had long since eluded him. He’d discovered after his encounter with the void that sleep was no longer necessary for him, but the idea of it—of drifting off into the unknown—terrified him now. Since passing through the wormhole, it was as though time itself had frozen within him. He hadn’t aged, hadn’t changed. It was something he tried to push away, to ignore, but the implications haunted him.

And yet… What if it was all a delusion? What if none of it was real?

The sharp, gleaming structure of the Celestar’s residence came into view on the display, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was a monumental pyramid, its white surface cutting through the sky with an almost blinding brightness, the golden peak shimmering in the sunlight. It looked like something out of ancient Earth history—like the pyramids he’d once read about in forgotten archives, shown to him by his mother. The resemblance to those ancient structures only heightened the sense of mystery and power that radiated from the building.

Marcus stared at it, feeling both awe and dread. He had no idea what awaited him inside.

As they approached, the Aetherwing descended smoothly onto the long runway, the engines vibrating softly. Once the craft touched down, a sense of finality washed over him. The future awaited just beyond the cockpit doors.

They stepped out of the craft through the curved side entrance, the air carrying a freshness that invigorated Marcus. He took in the surroundings—the lush greenery, the vibrant colours of nature—and marvelled at how different this world was from the sterile confines of Finisterra.

Guards in armoured black and purple uniforms met them at the foot of the pyramid. Their imposing presence reminded Marcus of the necessary vigilance in a world where the threat of Finisterra loomed large. He pondered the irony of it all; even in a place that felt so alive, a military presence was essential for maintaining peace.

The armoured guards led them through the pyramid’s expansive interior. To Marcus’s surprise, it was a maze of passages and chambers, a city in itself, bustling with life. The air was filled with the sounds of conversation, laughter, and the rustle of movement—elements of a society thriving outside the oppressive grip of Finisterra.

Finally, they arrived at the grand sandstone doors that marked the entrance to the Celestar’s audience chamber. The structure towered above them, its weathered stones whispering stories of ages past.

“State your name and purpose,” one guard in a tight red uniform demanded, his voice steady and authoritative.

Teroy stepped forward, his demeanour calm and collected. “Teroy Valen, Alyx Solara, and Marcus Fletcher. Purpose: private audience with Celestar Nyra Voss.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Marcus momentarily forgot that he had shared his last name with Teroy; it felt odd to be named in such formal proceedings.

The guard stepped aside, pulling a heavy lever that seemed to groan under the strain. Marcus was grateful he couldn’t hear the sound.

As the enormous doors swung open, a tremor rippled through the ground, reverberating through Marcus’s body. The chamber revealed itself in all its imposing grandeur—far larger than he had anticipated. The floors were made of a shining metallic-like polymer, its greyish hue reflecting the soft ambient light that filled the space. The walls, meeting in a point at the top of the room, composed of ancient yellow sandstone, created a stark contrast against the lush world outside, as if the room were a desert in the heart of a bustling oasis.

Across the room stood a stage, furnished with a sleek desk and an assortment of consoles and screens that hummed with activity. This wasn’t an audience chamber; it felt more like an office– a command centre, where decisions of great weight were made.

“Come in!” Celestar Nyra Voss called from behind her desk, her voice echoing through the chamber. The informality of the invitation surprised Marcus, who had expected a more grandiose reception.

As the doors closed behind them, Marcus exchanged glances with Alyx. Her expression mirrored his own mix of awe and trepidation. Teroy remained poised and formal, the picture of calm authority in the face of what was to come. The air crackled with anticipation, and Marcus couldn’t shake the feeling that they were standing on the precipice of something monumental.

They made their way over to the low stage where Nyra Voss sat behind her desk. As they approached, Nyra hopped up and made her way down the steps, quickly crossing the distance to stand just two steps away from Marcus. Her fluid motion caught the attention of the others, halting them in their tracks. Nyra was just shorter than Marcus, her brown combat outfit strikingly practical, contrasting with the regal impression he had expected.

“So you’re the time-freezing mystic?” she probed, her gaze sharp and inquisitive.

“Yes, Celestar,” Marcus replied, adhering to Teroy’s advice.

“Odd. No one told me you are deaf,” she remarked, inspecting the visor he wore. “Teroy did mention your stories about walking out of a Finisterra prison and dodging a bullet.” As Marcus opened his mouth to respond, he saw her arm reach for something at her side.

Almost instinctively, time around him slowed to a halt. Nyra stood motionless, her expression shifting from intent to surprise, and Alyx and Teroy were frozen in a moment of realisation. Marcus composed himself and halted his now unnecessary tapping. This felt like a test; after all, what use would he have to someone of Nyra’s importance if he couldn’t even deflect such an attack?

He sensed no sinister intent in her actions—only a genuine curiosity. With a flick of his wrist, he removed the knife from her hand and, in a moment of humour, placed it into her other hand before returning to a natural pace.

Nyra’s hand came to a stop, inches from where Marcus’s neck would have been. He had been right; it was purely a test.

Nyra stood bewildered, noticing the knife in her other hand. She turned back to Marcus. “Remarkable.”

“Thank you, Celestar,” he replied, glancing at Teroy and Alyx. They looked surprised, Teroy more so than Alyx. They remained silent, aware that Nyra’s focus was entirely on Marcus.

“How did you gain such an ability?” Nyra asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I don’t know,” Marcus responded, a lie slipping from his lips. He refused to let anyone else become what he had. Plus, he feared what might happen if someone allowed that unseen presence to reach them.

“A shame. I would love to replicate such an ability,” Nyra mused, though Marcus knew she would likely keep probing him about the origin of his powers in the future. For now, it felt irrelevant.

“You could prove very useful in our Finisterra infiltration efforts. A spy with your abilities would be unstoppable,” Nyra continued. “Tell me, Teroy, why have you brought this man to me?”

“It was me who requested the audience, Celestar,” Alyx interjected, her voice steady despite the circumstances. “I believe Marcus could prove invaluable in an offensive against Finisterra.”

“Offensive? That’s a dangerous train of thought. Finisterra holds ten planets to each of ours.”

“Yes, but with Marcus’s abilities, imagine the advantage. Plus, the military power of the Collective is formidable compared to that of Finisterra. One of our gunners is equal to three of theirs,” Alyx argued.

Marcus considered her words, reflecting on the strength and skill he had observed among the Collective’s forces. Finisterra had indeed grown complacent, forgetting the ideal of quality over quantity. The small military displays he had seen since arriving here proved that. The accuracy and speed of the personnel were impressive.

“You may have a point. I will need more demonstrations of your power, Marcus. Then I will consider calling a meeting of the Celestars here on Citria.”

Alyx’s face lit up with relief at Nyra’s words. Marcus felt a wave of gratitude that Nyra’s initial thoughts about his abilities were non-violent. The thought of using his power for offence made him want to retreat into isolation. Still, he was willing to give this a chance, sensing the hope it brought to Alyx.