by Regine Abel
“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Vahl asked. The baby continued to gape at him with a mix of wonder and confusion. “We will teach you peace. When you’re too angry, you can attack me. Nobody else but me. If you hurt anyone, I will punish you.”
But even as their little family embraced their new member, something had irrevocably changed, and I could only pray the Goddess it wasn’t for the worse.
CHAPTER 2
Xevius
“Xevius Thanis, you are once more being called upon to serve the Empire,” Omniate Daleus said with that obnoxiously pompous tone he loved to take to give himself airs of grandeur. “What we had feared, since you first allowed the Veredian named Sevina to live, has come to pass.”
I clenched my teeth but schooled my features not to reveal the extent of my annoyance. Nearly twenty-nine years had gone by since I’d chosen not to assassinate Eryon’s true mate despite the Quorum’s request. And yet, the son of Sharaz still wouldn’t stop reproaching me for following my conscience when I’d been faced with a choice that could potentially result in dire consequences for the entire galaxy.
“Sevina’s daughter has not only given birth to the Titans’ leader; she’s now birthed a Shadow. From all accounts, the viciousness and malevolence of her youngest are such that he must be kept isolated from the other Veredian abominations,” Daleus continued. “He must be eliminated before his evil spreads. Aside from that one display of weakness, you have served the Korlethean Empire with distinction. Can we hope that you will see your duty through this time, or will you once more falter out of compassion for your old friend?”
His last barb fired, Daleus glanced at the eleven other Omniates presiding within the Quorum—Korlethea’s governing body.
They sat before me on an elevated, semi-circular dais. Most had their hands clasped on the long, dark, stone table before them, while many of the others leaned against the tall backrest of their chairs. Behind them, the Fates—six of our most powerful male seers—sat on two rows on the left half of the Omniates’ table, and the Oracles—six of our most talented female seers—also sat on two rows but on the right half of the dais.
I stood in the middle of the off-white, stone floor constituted of three concentric rings, with the two other rings becoming a darker shade of golden brown. Behind me, hundreds of empty, light brown, stone benches rose in an amphitheater for the occasions where the media and our citizens were welcomed to attend the Quorum’s debates, present their sources of discontent, and challenge or debate new laws.
I flicked my waist-length, golden hair over my shoulder, breathing in slowly to keep my temper in check. Daleus was attempting to goad me into a reckless response, unbefitting to a royal assassin; I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“With all due respect, Omniate Daleus, I did not falter. Sparing Sevina Fein was a deliberate choice made after thorough deliberation. I stand by the decision I made then and would do the same again even if given the possibility to turn back time,” I said stoically.
Daleus’s bluish-grey eyes flared with malicious glee. “So, you confirm that you intentionally disobeyed a direct order from the Quorum? That you betrayed your oath of allegiance and service to the Empire?”
I smiled at his pathetic attempt at baiting me. “I confirm that I made a choice in accordance to the sacred laws that govern our people. Surely, I do not need to remind an Omniate that, when presented with the possible paths of Fate, one is free to make whatever decision they deem appropriate, even if it directly conflicts with the will of the Quorum? Fate overrides all.”
Daleus pinched his lips, while my friend, Omniate Sagan, and the ailing Omniate Theanna, barely managed to hide their smiles. They were only two of the four officials of the Quorum not currently under Daleus’s thumb.
“No, you don’t,” Daleus said in an icy tone. “But seeing the worst prophecies coming true about Amalia’s offspring, how can you still stand by your ill-advised decision not to kill her mother to prevent her birth?”
“What worst prophecies?” I challenged, lifting my chin and clasping my hands behind my back. “She gave birth to four Titans. The Oracles’ paths claimed the eldest would either become a monster that would destroy the galaxy as we know it, or become the greatest general of all time, bringing a long-lasting peace in both Quadrants of the known universe. Not a single unfortunate incident involving him, or any of the other Titans born of the Veredian-Xelixian couples, have been recorded.”
“She birthed a Shadow!” Daleus shouted, slamming his fist on the desk.
I made no effort to hide my smirk that his veneer of control so easily cracked. Despite that, Tharek, Amalia’s youngest, was indeed a major source of concern. Shadows were masters of deception and misdirection. From all accounts, the Praghans had believed Amalia carried twin girls only to discover she’d only been carrying a single male. That he’d fooled even a powerful Veredian healer, who could detect the age, gender, and general health of a fetus with a mere touch, spoke volumes about just how tremendously strong he already was and how much more he would become. Shadows were intrinsically vicious. I wouldn’t call them evil as instinct, and not malice, drove them to attempt to eliminate any form of rivalry or threat, whether real or perceived.
“She did,” I conceded. “Although worrisome, the boy has recently celebrated his second birthday, and again, no incidents have been reported involving the Shadow. In fact, recent recordings in the Xelixian lifestyle media showed Tharek playing with his older siblings, including Vahleryon. They should have slaughtered each other within seconds of his birth, but they live in harmony instead.”
“It is disturbing how defensive you are on behalf of those abominations,” Daleus said, looking at the other Omniates for support.
A few of them nodded with a troubled expression on their faces. I had to tread carefully: Titans were an extremely sensitive subject with Korletheans.
“Stating facts isn’t defending,” I casually countered. “I am not a killer-for-hire. I am the Hands of Fate and of the Korlethean people. My role is to eliminate the threats to the Empire. As such, and especially because my decision, three decades ago, allowed these children to be born, I have kept a close eye on their actions and their evolution. I have found no evidence of any threat.”
“The Oracles beg to differ,” Daleus snarled back.
My heart sank. If the Oracles had a vision about the boys the Omniate wanted me to kill, it would once more put the burden on me to make the decision whether to spare them or not. With the Fates, it was easy: male seers only foresaw unavoidable events. They had no control over those prophecies that came to them on a whim. But female seers could seek visions about a specific person or moment in time. Unlike the Fates, they saw multiple potential outcomes to an event. The decisions we made along the way determined which of those outcomes would come true.
Oracle Jaya rose to her feet.
“If Vahleryon and Tharek Praghan are allowed to live, three paths I see,” Jaya said in a solemn tone. “On the left path, the Omniates of the Quorum are on their knees, their screams of madness drowning the malevolent laughter of the Shadow. On the middle path, the Korletheans of our most powerful houses are on their knees, controlled by the mind trap of the Shadow while young Vahleryon selectively kills many among them. And on the right path, the Quorum is on its knees, controlled by Vahleryon. His two younger siblings, Zharina and Rhadames, stand by his side while you lay dead in a pool of your own blood.”
“Where’s the positive path?” I asked when she stopped speaking, my mind reeling from such dire visions. “However unlikely, there is always one.”
“I have searched for one, brother, but only these manifest themselves,” Jaya said with a commiserating tone. “Whatever positive outcome there may be, it is hidden within the three paths I have laid before you.”
“So, as you can see, Assassin,” Daleus said smugly, “nothing good for our people can come from allowing these abominations to live.”
I hated that title,
almost as much as I hated the thought of killing children. “And what if they die?” I asked. “What paths have you seen, then?” The troubled expression on all of the Oracles’ faces made me instantly suspicious. “It’s not better, is it? Killing them doesn’t guarantee a better fate.”
“Killing them at least presents a path where things remain as they currently are,” Daleus said with a shrug.
“But the outcome of the other paths would be worse than sparing them,” countered Omniate Theanna, a frown marring her beautiful face, prematurely aged by the Sunescient disease that would kill her before her forty-third birthday. “Whatever dire faith this Quorum may face at the hands of the Titans, the vision of the boy becoming the greatest general this world has ever seen still remains.”
“You would be willing to let this Quorum be massacred?” Omniate Piatus asked.
“If it brings long-lasting peace to our galaxy and allows Korlethea to return to its former glory, then yes, without hesitation,” Omniate Theanna said.
Respect and sadness filled my heart, looking at her. She’d had such a stellar ascension through the ranks of the Quorum. Her selfless devotion to our people, progressive ideas, and openness to change had made her a shining beacon for the political future of Korlethea. Even the most conservative had rallied behind Omniate Theanna until the incurable disease had struck her a little over a year ago. Sensing the shift in power, most had abandoned her to stand behind Daleus. Omniate Sagan was one of the few who had no qualms siding with Theanna when their positions aligned—which occurred often. By rights, she should have stepped down and spent the remaining months of her life, enjoying what little she still could. But she knew what disaster would befall Korlethea without her and the few who stayed loyal to her—to our people—to keep Daleus in check. Theanna would fight until her last breath and keep the unlikely hope that another would rise to carry the torch once she fell.
“I have heard the will of the Quorum and the warnings of the Oracles,” I said. “I will go to Xelix Prime and seek out these young Titans. But as with their great-mother Sevina, my decision whether to execute them will be based solely on my assessment of their threat level and on what course of action I believe might lead to the least damaging outcome.”
“Least damaging for whom?” Daleus said in a cold voice.
“For Korlethea,” I replied, repressing a snarl.
“Then maybe we should appoint another, less reluctant assassin,” he replied, although he clearly implied ‘treasonous.’
“Your will, Omniate,” I said with a shrug. “Whether me or another agent, when Fate is involved, the choice is ours, not yours.”
“Proceed then, Agent Thanis,” Piatus said. “We will impatiently await your report.”
Finally.
Placing my palm over my heart, I bowed my head in the traditional Korlethean salute, then turned around and headed straight for the door. The waves of hatred from Daleus receded at last as the distance grew between us. While being an Empath had major benefits, especially for an agent dealing with people that could turn on you in the blink of an eye, it could be exhausting to be constantly bombarded by negative emotions; especially to keep them from making us lose control.
The stares of my fellow agents hanging out in the hall weighed on me as I headed towards the elevator, intent on getting to the shuttle bay in the lower levels of the Assembly. They, too, would be given assignments shortly, probably far less disturbing than mine.
I nodded at Febus, former military with the special ops who had joined the Royal Agents after his liberation from years of slavery at the hands of the Guldans. Febus had been enslaved along with Eryon Valis, Omniate Sagan, Seer Killian, and too many others to list. For more than two decades, they’d been forced to mate with Veredian captives in the hopes of impregnating them with more young Veredian girls with unique powers that would entice buyers.
Nearly thirty years ago, as part of a life-changing mission, I had deliberately allowed myself to be captured by the Guldans to serve as a stallion in their breeding compounds. My purpose: assassinate Sevina Fein, the innocent young woman who turned out to be Eryon’s soulmate. That mission broke the ruthless, fiercely loyal agent that I had been back then. At twenty-two, I had climbed the ranks of the agency at dizzying speed. I’d never botched an assignment or questioned the orders or motives of the Quorum. I was the Sword of Korlethea, its wrath, and vengeful hand. Woe onto any who dared to threaten our people and our sovereignty.
And then I stared into the eyes of the beautiful wisp of a girl who’d been eagerly awaiting to be reunited with her Eryon for the three weeks of ‘forced’ coupling during her mating season. I hadn’t just struggled with the thought of killing one of my closest friend’s soulmate, but for the first time, I had questioned the rightness of the Korletheans’ constant need to control Fate. How did it make sense to murder an innocent female merely to prevent the birth of the grandchildren her own child would give her?
But it was the year it took for me to set up and enact my escape that truly shifted my views on the Quorum, the Korlethean beliefs, and my own role in the greater scheme of things. The Quorum had been all but indoctrinating the population with a systemic resentment of the Veredians, portraying them as the bringer of doom for all life. My time on the breeding compounds had shown most of them to be scared young women, making the most of the difficult life they’d been shackled into, and being as supportive as they could with each other.
We had caused the tragedy that brought them to the verge of extinction and that had given rise to the Titans. Now that the Veredians had freed themselves and were thriving, growing both in power and wealth, we wanted to punish them again… out of fear.
From the moment that first doubt sparked in my mind, the damage was irreversibly done. And I wasn’t the only agent in this situation. Many among us had begun questioning the legitimacy of some of the Quorum’s orders. That uneasiness further fueled by the complaints of so many Korlethean slaves freed by the Veredians and their allies when they brought down Gruuk’s breeding empire. They had sired many Veredian daughters whom the Quorum had not only forbidden them from seeking out, but also wanted to see killed. Unrest was brewing within Korlethea. Lines were being drawn, sides chosen, and loyalties divided.
It would all come to a head much too soon.
I stepped into the elevator and descended to the shuttle bay. A few dock workers nodded at me as I made my way to my personal shuttle, mentally listing all the things I would need for the trip, which I hoped wouldn’t last long. My sixth sense tingled as the silver outline of my bullet-shaped ship came into view. A familiar, non-threatening presence awaited me. I couldn’t see the person yet, but they knew I was approaching. Marching up to the small vessel, it took every ounce of my self-control to keep my expression neutral and not cuss up a storm.
“Don’t you think I’ve had enough of Oracles today?” I asked the older female.
Tall, lithe, pointy chin and ears, long, straight black hair down to her waist, my Aunt Venya Solius, one of the most powerful Oracles on Korlethea, rarely sought me out unless she had some unpleasant news to foretell. She possessed the same forest-green eyes as my late mother, her older sister, and a golden-brown skin a couple of shades darker than my own.
“Hello to you, too, Nephew,” Aunt Venya said with her legendary attitude.
“If you’re here to warn me of my impending death, another has beaten you to the punch,” I said sarcastically.
A troubled look crossed her features, still young-looking despite her seventy-four years of age. With the Korlethean’s average lifespan of 150 years, she wouldn’t truly show signs of aging before her mid-nineties. I felt like a shit for being so snarky. After my mother died hunting Titans during my early childhood, Aunt Venya had taken me under her wings. I loved the insufferable woman.
“I see many paths where you live beyond that point in time,” she said with a gentle tone I had not heard from her in more years than I could count.
; “But at what cost to the People?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Do not trouble yourself with that vision,” Aunt Venya said, waving her hand dismissively. “Whatever choice you make will always be in the best interest of the People.”
She took a couple of steps towards me and brushed my long hair over my shoulder before cupping my face with both hands. I blinked, taken aback by this unusual display of affection.
“You will play a pivotal role in the future that awaits us all. You were always beloved by Fate.”
I snorted, giving my aunt a disbelieving look. Fate liked to fuck with me and not in the fun way.
“Despite Daleus’ hatred for you not bowing to him, he has no choice but to send you on that mission because any other agent will fail,” Aunt Venya said, her hands dropping from my face to rest on my shoulders. “The boy will kill them, and this will start a diplomatic war between the Alliance and us for attempting to assassinate a protected species.”
“But he won’t kill me?” I asked, dubiously. As self-confident—if not cocky—as I felt about my abilities, I’d observed Vahl Praghan enough in the past to know he could defeat me if he set his mind to it.
“No, he won’t. A difficult path lies ahead of you, Xevius, with many painful choices to make. Just like with the Veredian Sevina, follow your convictions and your conscience.”
“So, you’re telling me to spare the boys?” I asked, taken aback that an Oracle would try to sway me on my choices.
“I am saying weigh the pros and cons as you did with her, and then let your heart decide. No duty, no fear, and no one’s expectations should influence what you believe is the right decision.”
“That doesn’t help much,” I said with a derisive smile.
She snorted. “What won’t help much is finding your soulmate among the Veredians on Xelix Prime.”
My jaw dropped, years of practicing self-control instantly gone. She burst out laughing. Letting go of my shoulders, she took a couple of steps back to look at me mockingly.