Talia watched from her rocky perch upon the moon, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, as the blazing crimson maw in space flickered and frayed at its edges, and its denizens drifted back into its embrace before it disappeared entirely. Malan had escaped. A setback, to be sure, but that which was worthwhile was rarely simple to achieve. Talia had known Malan escaping was a possibility, however unlikely. He had no idea how potently Voidborn he was, but Talia had been able to see it all the way back on the Jauda, though he had never seen her.
It was why she had been so careful to weave so many threads around his neck. He believed himself to have escaped, and for now, he had. But he still hadn't noticed some of her more subtle threads sill held, and all she had to do was pull them tight at just the right moment and he would be theirs. Gods, taking him after he'd had the chance to come into his strength might even benefit her Master's designs in the long run.
She leaned back, casually resting against the angled stone behind her, crossing one leg over other. There was a bubbling gurgle of discontent from beside her, and her smile grew. The creature beside her hissed at her lack of immediate response, baring half a dozen rows of stubby teeth that reached back all the way down its throat.
It had drooping, greyish green skin that seemed to hang loose from its bones, and a small, round body supporting by a mess of twitching and squirming tentacle-like limbs. Talia supposed, if she had to find a close comparison for the form He had taken this time, it would be an octopus with a deformed human body for a head.
The creature gurgled again, and this time Talia reached out a comforting hand and placed it almost reverently on his head—only half managing to suppress the euphoric shiver that ran up her arm as she did.
“Patience,” she cooed softly, beginning to slowly move her palm. “This was a planned for occurrence. We knew Malan to be competent enough to wield the Starbound, and whilst I’d never thought it would be Beric to make the sacrificial play, we had known it might come from one of them.”
A series of burbles and wet, throaty noises followed, and she giggled. “Yes, he was rather magnificent, wasn’t he? With the right planning, we might still take him. But if not, there is an alternative.”
A curious grunt replied, and Talia smirked.
“I said it to Malan—a mistake on my part, but I think he will be far too busy with his new powers to think on it. We don’t need him specifically. There is another. I was careful, after all, to ensure it was not just Malan to survive the Jauda. His twin does not come by the power naturally, but on the Jauda I saw she possesses its embers--I suspect from sharing a womb with Malan. She will serve our purposes, even without the power of a full Voidborn. You will have the power of the Nexus, and the seals will be broken, and your brothers and sisters will be woken from their long slumber.”
Talia paused, her breathing heavy as she imagined the sheer rapture of it. The creature beside her gibbered happily, quivering in agreement. She smiled, warmth filling her at the sight of her Master’s joy and reached out a hand.
“Shall we?”
Tentacles reached out, curling around her fingers before shifting, their form becoming a viscous liquid. It slithered up her arm, its touch cool and damp, before a short, sharp pain had her gasping, followed immediately by the ecstasy of joining. She stood, taking a few leisurely steps before a small rift opened at the wave of her hand, and she stepped inside.
A defeat, today, but one that had set the foundations for her Master's eventual triumph nevertheless. Malan. Isolde. One was better than the other, but either one would get them what they needed in the end.
And then her master would finally be free.
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“So, I take it there’s no medical supplies here?” Malan asked, sat propped up against one of the control pillars, clutching the still bleeding wounds in his side.
“I’m afraid not, Pilot. The nature of my stasis prohibited perishable supplies being kept on board.”
“I figured,” Malan said, trying to ignore the additional questions raised by Tanwen talking about his stasis—or the fact the ship was talking to him at all.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“I have an alternate suggestion, however, Pilot.”
Malan shifted, sending fresh waves of pain through him. “I’m all ears. Would be a shame to survive all that and end up dying from blood loss.”
“During the fight, you acquired enough celestial energy to level up twice. I was interred with only limited knowledge of my—our—capabilities, but the levelling process was emphasised. When you level, the influx celestial energy to our systems should heal the damage to both of our forms.”
Malan blinked, trying to work out how any of that could be possible, but quickly concluded it was pointless. Tanwen was talking about something completely outside of the realms of his knowledge, and even if it weren’t, what he assumed was the loss of blood was making his head spin too much to think entirely straight. It was time to just roll with it.
“What do I do to…level?”
“Bring up your status screen as you did before. As you are not in direct control, they will simply appear on the ship’s monitors. The menu options should guide you through the rest.”
Malan closed his eyes, trying to muster the memory of what he’d done before to bring up the status windows, but the ship responded to his thoughts intuitively, and he heard the subtle sound of the menus appearing on the monitors.
Status
Name: Malan Tierin
Race: Voidborn [1]
Alignment: N/A
Profession: Pilot Lv. 1
Class: N/A
Stats
Energetics: 50
Synergetics: 50
Cognizance: 50
Notifications Available [View Notifications?]
Levels Earned, Free Stat Points Available [Initiate Levelling Process?]
There were so many questions he had about the things on this screen. His name was obvious enough—but his race being Voidborn? Talia had called him that, Tanwen, too. But what that meant he had no idea. Profession, too, was obvious. Pilot. But why would that need to be stated? Surely all the people who gained access to this are pilots too?
Levelling had to take priority over his curiosity, at least for now. He focused in on the option to initiate the process, and the displays flickered, transitioning from one screen to another.
A rush of white energy exploded outwards from his chest and spread across his skin like wildfire. He hissed, and frantically tried rubbing at it, before realising it was causing no pain, only a soothing tingle that lasted for a moment, before moving on to the next part of him. In its wake, the wounds and abrasions that littered his skin from the battle dissolved away, leaving no trace—even the larger gashes he’d sustained during his escape. He glanced at the screen.
Level 3 Achieved. All Damage repaired and shields restored.
The gathered Celestial energy has converged to form:
+2 Stat Point(s), +2 Skill Point(s)
Allocate Stat Point(s) now?
Malan took a steadying breath. He felt fantastic. Not exactly fully refreshed, but close enough to it that it still seemed miraculous. All the pain had been washed away, alongside the weariness in his muscles and mind. All that remained was a lingering tiredness, like the kind you get after a sleepless night and still have to go about your day. Considering his clothes were still torn and soaked with blood from injuries he’d had seconds prior, Malan thought that quite the win.
“How is this possible?” he murmured.
“Celestial energy,” Tanwen replied simply. “It is the energy of creation, and when channelled properly, it can be turned to most ends. Now we are bonded, the celestial energy we gather is stored and used as we direct, more or less.”
Malan frowned. “Stored where—on the ship? I can feel the whole thing, and I can’t find any place that might be able to do that.”
“Ah,” said Tanwen, and for the first time, the voice seemed a little unsure of itself. “So you haven’t noticed. There has been a lot going on, and from what I was told before my sleep, the process was designed to be painless.”
“What he hell are you talking about?” Malan said, black dread beginning to build inside him.
“I apologise. I understand this can be…unsettling to discover. Our bonding was not some metaphysical or spiritual concept. We are, literally, one. Your chest, Pilot…”
Malan blinked slowly as the pit in his stomach swelled. Literally one. Instantly he knew what Tanwen was referring to. It was something he’d been ignoring since this entire time, pushing to the back of his mind so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it. He’d had to. If he hadn’t, the shock of it may have stopped him from acting to escape at all.
He lifted a trembling hand, and reached hesitantly for the centre of his chest, where the healing feeling from earlier had come from. He already knew what he’d find there, but his hand still jerked back as though burned when it felt something hard beneath the tattered remains of his shirt.
“Oh God,” he hissed and scrambled to his feet, backing up as though he could put some distance between himself and his own body.
Breathing was suddenly hard, as though there wasn’t quite enough oxygen in the room. Swallowing, he gingerly lifted his shirt over his head, and forced himself to examine his own chest.
In the very centre, just above the solar plexus was a diamond shaped, amaranthine jewel, embedded in his own skin. Careful examination with his fingers revealed the joining to be smooth, as though the jewel had always been there—as though it was meant to be there. It wasn’t uncomfortable in any way, which surprised Malan.
Even more surprising, was that the deeper he looked into its depths, the more he could make out dancing trails of pearlescent colour within. Celestial energy. It flowed from the jewel through him, and then into the wider ship around him.
“Well,” Malan started, searching for the right words to describe how he was feeling about everything that had happened to him, everything he’d learned in the last twenty-four hours. In the end, he chose the simplest way to sum it all up as possible.
“Fuck.”