No more trees.
She could not stop the laughter from bursting from her tongue. A raw, awful sound that bounced against the walls, choked out as if she had been strangled. No more shitty roots. No more sap or bark, or the tiniest fucking forest she'd ever seen in her life.
All Rue had was the sea, the sky, and the stupid lighthouse.
She was immediately brutally awake, live-wire alert. She was hyperaware of the situation, of how she was completely and utterly at the mercy of her jailers. It was quite clear to her now that they were determined to see despair on her face. That they hated her success and even the slightest bit of hope, of domesticity on a shitty island, had to be crushed.
They didn't even want to give her the fucking trees.
She was fucked.
Her eyes drifted to what she had left. The pile of twigs, the eight crisp, tart roots. They had to be rationed now. She could survive on them, one disgusting root a day. But what the fuck was she going to do about water?
Water. Her throat constricted, squeezed tight as if the word itself drained her tongue. The oily, bitter sap had been awful, but it had sustained her somehow. It had tasted foul, but at least it quenched her thirst. And now her mouth was dry, salt flavouring the back of her tongue.
No source of fucking water.
No source of food.
And a Council who wanted her half-dead.
This was madness. Fucking madness. Her panic was now clogging her throat. Bright and frantic. It rippled through her. She almost felt half insane. She counted her roots once more. Eight. Her useless twigs. Fifty.
For fuck's sake, she was an honour student, had most of her education paid for in scholarships and government funding. She was supposed to be smart. Physics. Chemistry. Geography. Biology. Science. Why didn't she know how to make water appear?
Her mind searched, hunched over on the ground, her thoughts began to sweep through the methods. A bowl and a rock. Evaporation. Condensation. Boiling saltwater. Steam. She groaned, but all she had were her clothes, and the fabric was salt-stiff and clinging to her skin.
Think.
Her eyes swept to the windows. The fog of heat on the glass. The crust of salt on the rim. The wet breath of the air, heavy with mist, as thick as soup, warm and muggy on her skin. Her body moved before her mind did.
She wiped a sleeve across the tiny windowpane; it came away wet, shimmery. Water. Desperate, she pressed her tongue to it, sucked at the fabric. The moisture tasted like rust and salt, but it was wet.
The air was heavy with the water that she needed. And if there was water in the air, that meant she could siphon it somehow. Her mind worked. She could spread out fabric overnight, let the moisture collect when the sun wasn't out. And in the morning, she could try to squeeze it all out into some kind of container.
Okay.
The plans were calming her down.
For now, she could hang some cloth against the gap in the door and hope that water would condense on the fabric. She tore at the hem of her frock, ripped the fabric apart into a nice, even strip. Then she shoved the strip in the crack at the door where the winds whispered through the gaps.
She would try to wring it out later.
Hope grew within her.
*
There was no point waiting around for water, so by late morning, she was scavenging in the belly of the lighthouse, looking for things to use. Her mind darted immediately to thoughts of creating some kind of cup from anything she could find.
The sea now lapped at the lip of the door, and as much as she'd love to try to swim out for the trees. Intuition reminded her quite viciously that Cetus was out there waiting to hurt her again. Her left ankle still throbbed, the skin blistering where Cetus had reached for her.
And so, she inched back, closing the door firmly.
She went searching for old planks of wood, slick with algae and soft from age. A good hollow piece was found quite quickly, and she kicked it with her good leg until the plank was split clean down the middle, a couple of rusted nails jutting out from the corner like teeth.
She worked the nails free with her hands, metal shrieking and sawing against the grain, but it came loose eventually. And when she finally shaped the planks into a crude box-like vessel, her hands were bleeding a little, but she didn't care.
Rue had a cup.
A shitty cup with four panels and a base, made from old wood and rusting nails. It couldn't hold much water, but it was a cup. She lined the inside with another strip from her sleeve, the cloth clinging to the wood. The fabric she'd left all day had only been slightly damp, and when she squeezed, she only got a few salty droplets that dripped onto her tongue.
But she began to work on her frock, tearing half of it into long, narrow strips which she pinned to the floor outside with the nails. She left enough cloth on her for warmth and protection from the sun.
That night, she dreamt of rain, cold, refreshing and wet on her cheeks.
Valentino did not return to her dreams.
*
By the second day, she had created a system.
The fabric was damp before dawn, and she clambered outside before the heat rose to squeeze it all into her makeshift cup. The first mouthful was warm, a little briny, thin and faintly metallic, but it was water. Her body took it greedily, devoured it desperately. Her throat stopped burning. Her tongue stopped sticking to her teeth.
It wasn't enough.
But she smiled.
In the day, she worked like someone possessed, the goals to achieve distracting her mind from the situation. It was now too hot and sunny outside. And so, she nailed those strips of cloth on the inner walls of the lighthouse.
They hung like roots from the ceiling, and the air inside was wet enough to seem to make them shimmer. But every few minutes, a bead of water crawled down the fabric and fell into her little cup. Droplets of water and roots.
Good enough.
Thank fuck it was working.
She made more cups, uprooted planks and nails from the base of the lighthouse. The pads of her fingers were bleeding, but she still smiled, trembling, dehydrated and a little delirious.
Her plans had worked, and that calmed her down.
*
On the third day, she ate her third root.
She was starting to get used to the tart, raw taste of the tubers, ashy and squeaking between her teeth. And she savoured it slowly, trying to make it all last. The sea had yet to subside, still roaring against her new home.
She didn't think about fire; it would be a waste, and there was nowhere to start it without the risk of setting the lighthouse in flames. But perhaps she could try to fish, make some kind of rod with the planks, and use fabric for the line.
She eyed her ankle then. It looked awful; the swelling was worse now. It was purple, the skin stretched so tight that it gleamed a little like a balloon of glass. She'd bound it with a strip of fabric for some kind of pressure, but pain pulsed through with the beat of her heart.
It needed rest, elevation. But she had to keep moving, working. She needed more tools and more planks. Her fingers dug into the floorboards again, lifting another piece of wood from its base of earth, fungus and stone. Her nails scraped, catching at the hem.
And then the plank snapped with a sharp grunt, fell back with a hollow thud. She froze, as it clattered, an echo sung from deep within, and with it a gust of cold air.
Air?
What the fuck?
Slowly, she lifted it again. Her heart was pounding. Beneath the board was a hollow of shadows, nestled into the crevice of stones. A dip into the ground made from slabs of granite and quartz.
A hole, big enough for her to go into. And in the darkness, cold air whistled through, indicating some kind of passageway that led to somewhere else that wasn't just the sea. Her laugh came out strangled. Her breath hitched.
Go under the island.
Her mind raced. Fuck you, Valentino. Fuck you. She cursed, couldn't help herself from muttering desperate profanities under her breath. He could have mentioned the huge fucking hole under the lighthouse. She wouldn't have discovered it if she hadn't made cup making her sole purpose in life. But it didn't matter now.
Her hands trembled as she lowered herself down.
*
Rue was blind in the descent.
The air was damp and chilly, cold enough to bite into her skin. But her body was burning from the exhilaration, warm with adrenaline and anticipation. The rocks were slimy with algae and lichen that clung to her fingers. And her hands slid over the stone, wet, cool and slick. Already, she was fucking excited, heart hammering, giddy and fast.
At this point, her joys in life included the simple requirement of greater access to water. And with the icy wetness on her fingertips and the smell of cold water just dripping from the air, she had already received her prize.
Water and food. That was enough to make her happy. And when the thin drops rolled down her knuckles as she moved, she almost sobbed. Rue was a simple creature now.
"Water," she cried like a mad idiot. "God, you beautiful bitch. I missed you." She was going a little crazy. She pressed her palm over the stones, allowed it to drip into her hands, and then she licked it away like some kind of animal. It tasted earthy, a little bitter, but at least it wasn't salty. "Fuck yes," she groaned. She'd need her cups to collect more.
She followed the sound of dripping, squinting into the dark. There was a faint gleam of light bending across the wet walls, shimmering on the stone. And she could see stalactites, long, milky white and sharp, hanging like teeth. The cavern was small when she finally rounded the corner, opening up before her like a gaping throat.
It was a cave of sorts with a black tide that came in. But she didn't care for that. It was the thin stream at the corner that cut through the rocks that caught her attention. A pouring waterfall that bubbled, an underground spring from an aquifer. She knelt and plunged her hands into it; it was icy. But the taste was pure. No salt. Just sweet, sweet, icy cold water.
She drank more, felt as if she couldn't stop. Rue had never been quite as thirsty, not even in the summer after long, hard work. And it was as if the water was the most delicious thing she'd ever drunk, as if it were life itself, as if it were all that she could ever want.
Her tongue begged for more, and she swallowed big, huge gulps of it, drank until her tummy bulged. It took a lot of willpower to stop before she could get sick. For once, her thirst was all gone, and the water seemed to reduce the ache in her temple and the heat in her head.
When she was done, she stood to look around, feeling liquids slosh within her.
There were little pools in the rocks before the stream met the tide. And she could see the fish flickering in and out, small shells glinting amongst tufts of dark seaweed. Her happiness grew, the pain in her ankle ebbing away.
She could live here.
This space that her mates had created for her.
But it was the moss on the walls that caught her attention.
It covered a crevice in the wall, spread wide like the wings of a butterfly. Black, moist, soft and glistening in the light. And when she moved, it seemed to shiver as if alive. She reached out then, curiosity running up her veins. Fingertips brushing the surface, and it darted towards her, curled into her touch as if it recognised her.
It fucking moved.
Her heart thudded as she flinched back; it was as soft as fur, felt almost warm. She reached again. The moss flexed against her palm, and she swore she could feel the faint flutter of a pulse under its surface. She pressed her hand flat, then her arm. The smell was oddly sweet, like rain upon skin, petrichor and musk. She sank closer, trembling.
It felt…Nice.
What was it?
Some kind of bed? An animal to help her? She knew she was being stupid. But she couldn't help it in this space, a space where she was just giddy with joy and knowledge that it had all been created to save her.
"Valentino?" she whispered. "Is that you?" Her voice echoed back to her, warped as it travelled through the cave. She spread her hands over the moss. There was a dip in the centre, where the crevice began. Perhaps…Her brows furrowed. It was hiding something? She stepped closer then.
The hollow that the moss called home seemed to fit her perfectly. And so, she sank into it, fuzz yielding under her weight. She reached forward, trying to see if there was an end to the crack in the walls, fingertips brushing into the moss. The thing cradled her close, until she was deep within the darkness. Then something slid around her ankles, gentle at first, then tight.
Too fucking tight.
She jerked back, but it held fast, taut against her legs. Her muscles went rigid. The pain came, sharp, bright and vibrant. White and blinding. Her breath snapped short. The sound that tore from her was a half scream, half laugh, the taste of iron filling her tongue.
And then beneath her, in the wall of moss, something gasped and began to breathe.
*
Halcyon
The Intergalactic Court reeked of rot.
They tried to keep it clean, with its holy light and self-proclaimed justice. But Halcyon could always smell it beneath layers of antiseptic and empty oxygen. It was the stench of bloating, ancient decay, waiting to burst. Power, he supposed, stank when it remained in the hands of the old.
Rue had taught him that once. He had not cared to give it much thought until now.
In the hall of the elite, the ministers and councils sat beneath them in crescent rings, their robes draped over the ground. The emperors were always above them, on their gilded thrones. Dante sat at the centre, like a carved statue at the very top. And today, Seraphim and Halcyon were by his side.
For balance, there would always be at least three emperors in attendance. But Halcyon had not seen the rest of his mates in days. The Council had declared that it would do them well to stay separated just in case the messed-up bonds were triggered in a larger group.
Halcyon had scoffed at that.
It was clear that they had ulterior motives, that they were afraid that in a crowd, he and his mates would do something drastic. He supposed they weren't wrong about that.
Before them, retired regents, relicts, personnel, councillors and advisors whispered, voices melting with the smoke. In such a setting, Halcyon had always assumed that the power of the world was his to hold. And for a while it had seemed to be that way. But he should have known that no matter how hard they tried to cut off their strings, puppets would always be puppets, and sons would always bow down to their fathers' whip.
Dante was proving to be a fucking coward.
And there was nothing Halcyon could do about it. The people here weren't all his. And some of them answered to no one as retired emperors and advisors. There was a level of respect they demanded as old tutors and revered councillors. They were untouchable in a sense. Of course, if they went too far, the laws could be held over their heads. But before that, they had to be listened to.
It wasn't like on Four or his galaxies, where Halcyon could just tear his teeth into the necks of an awful minister and demand submission. He had to listen, had to consider their stance, had to make them all fucking happy. He was a dumb little mutt in their eyes, and they always made that known clearly to him. He glowered then.
Maybe they should consider a dictatorship. What was the fucking point of being an Emperor if it meant having to listen to some idiots?
This was all Dante's fault.
"The Northern Galaxies close to Four are at risk of being breached," Halcyon's own Chief Minister began, tapping fingers on the table. A screen revealed itself, displaying the destruction. "The hives are spreading, and we must send our soldiers to cleanse those areas before the vermin reaches the capital planets."
A murmur of agreement swept across the Court.
An old fucker only chuckled, stroked his beard. Halcyon bristled. He was from Three, had a stick up his ass. Seraphim only had power over him because of his prophecies; without it, the minister was always difficult. And with Seraphim's powers now declared 'influenced' by the Entity. The ministers had scrabbled at the chance to announce that his waters were now 'untrustworthy' and potentially a 'fluke'.
The minister from Three spoke then. "And what of the cost? The treasury bleeds with each extermination. Too much gold. Just let the commoners suffer first. It will make them more obedient to your rule, Your Majesties."
Outrageous.
Halcyon's jaw tightened, a growl already building in his throat; he could feel the headache already building behind his eyes. His temples were pulsing. His Minister stood then, attuned to his wishes.
"A hive only SS-ranked and higher plants itself now on the planets of 23406 and 23502. To let it run rampant would be a costly mistake. It is too close to the capital—"
"But it would cost us billions. And we can't have our own Emperors going down every time, can we?" The ageing asshole announced, and chuckles rippled from before them. "A patrol should suffice to keep things contained." Fucking fool.
Halcyon cursed. He could not take it any longer, and he stood then to speak; his fist slammed against his throne. "And you're meaning to say, you would sacrifice our people for the money? You're a corrupted little shit, aren't you?"
The laughter died instantly, and he could feel Seraphim's eyes on him, burning. That was not the right thing to say now, and he understood that. The hives were obviously difficult to exterminate. Fuck, he really did. But right now, there was just so much anger within him, so much fucking rage.
There was a time when he could do whatever the fuck he wanted, and that was true within his reign. But in Intergalactic waters, Dante was their pack Alpha. And his pack Alpha was being a fucking pussy.
An SS-rank hive could spread like wildfire.
And by then, how the fuck were they going to contain the Lonely?
The man bowed now, face perfectly blank. "Your Majesty, it is not a sacrifice. The strength of the Empire lies in the Emperors and the capital planets. The death of those peasants will be regrettable, but the numbers will be limited. There is no need to waste our resources when they could be better used elsewhere." His eyes flickered then, and Halcyon felt as if he could fucking kill him. "Your lives are the most important to us all."
Halcyon's fingers tightened; he wanted to end the discussions, wanted to just wave his hand and call it his judgment. But the ritual was ironclad. All situations related to the Elder Gods and the Intergalactic Court had to be debated this way. And currently, Lonely activity was Intergalactic matters.
The council would voice their concerns. The Emperors would judge. But it all seemed like some kind of ploy; every word that the retirees spoke of had already been decided before it even reached them. It was as if they intended to make them look stupid.
He looked at Dante then, Dante who remained calm and unreadable, expression as blank as ever. His voice was sharp when he declared his ruling. And at least, it was one that Halcyon agreed with.
"Emperor Kieran will oversee the cleaning of those planets. Emperor Levi will assist him." His tone was cold. Final.
But the chamber had the guts to protest. "Your Majesty," they chimed in unison as if preplanned, as if they knew that he would answer this way. "Please reconsider." Their heads were bent low, prostrating before their feet. But Halcyon could almost feel the smiles on their cheeks. "Consider the health of your bonds—"
Halcyon stood then with a snarl. "Kieran and Levi are not affected at all. The decision is final."
The council seemed to pause. A weighted moment of judgement, he could almost taste it in the air. The way they mocked him despite their 'respect'. Their voices echoed then. "As His Majesty decrees."
Halcyon fell back into his chair, fingers cracking the arm of the throne. Even that sound was swallowed by the weight of the Council. The meetings were always so exhausting, and Halcyon was so fucking sick of it.
But when the next matter was raised, the air seemed to shift.
"The entity," a councillor announced. "04301."
And Halcyon straightened in his chair, spine growing rigid. Rue.
"Our scientists report great progress," the man continued. "They have managed to keep the subject contained and compliant on an unknown, clearance level 10 planet. Emperor Valentino's connection remains stable and disconnected. The drugs have proven… effective with minimal effect on our Emperors. We can assume a full recovery."
Effective.
Halcyon's teeth ground together. He could barely feel Valentino through the bond anymore, only static, a strange silence that Dante reflected as well. It was like his mates were underwater and barely fucking breathing. Even now, he couldn't feel Dante's emotions as if it were all locked up inside.
The alien adjusted his spectacles, reading off the panel. "Her claim weakens by the day. With her isolation, the Emperors' bond should once again reach equilibrium. Her powers wane. But we assume that the Titans will not approach unless she starves."
"Starves?" Seraphim's voice was a cut of steel, voice shaking. He finally spoke now, sitting up in his chair. He'd been quiet all afternoon, and Halcyon had almost forgotten that he was there, too. "You're starving her?"
That was news to Halcyon, too. They were not privy to that information, not with how difficult the Council was being. Any sign of what they deemed unnecessary concern would have them all just as drugged and emotionally controlled as Dante and Valentino.
And Halcyon hated to say it. But with his entire council begging him to listen, he could not simply deny his people. Not with his own pack Alpha listening to the Court's every word. And a mate now deeply bonded with the so-called monster Rue. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
How the fuck had it gotten so fucking bad?
"She is not a person, Your Majesty," the councillor replied smoothly. "She is not only an Omega, a breeding tool. But, also a weapon. A creature born of Elder God blood. We must use her as much as we can while those Titans are still interested in her existence."
"It has been days," Halcyon snapped. He couldn't stand it. "Fucking days. Where are your results? You said we could trust you. That you'd all have it handled appropriately. All this talk about your success, perhaps it would be better to bring it under our control. You allowed us to design the island under your terms. But we've fought those monsters and we know them well, maybe even better than you all do behind your fucking desks—"
The alien cleared his throat, bowed deeply, then stood tall and so fucking proud. Insult disguised as reverence. "Your Highness, your compassion is noted. Admirable, even. But the emotions you feel are not yours. They are side effects of the bond. The creature's influence is potent even when severed. Understand that it is only temporary."
He continued chirping his bullshit.
"And your Highness, this is a matter of governance, not warfare. The Council acts under the will of the Emperors. We act with your well-being in mind. We must protect you when you are incapable of protecting yourselves."
Protect.
They used that word a lot.
But Halcyon could not correct him, tell him that Rue had always been his moon. Not if it meant a fuck ton of scientists pinning him down, aliens and ravaging his mind with emotional blockers. Not if it meant being put to sleep as Valentino had been forced into.
His mate was in a fucking coma under the watchful eye of a hundred Eros and ten retired Aphrodites. And they were doing all this just so they could attempt the slow and painful process of clamping down and silencing the fucking mating bond. The Intergalactic Court had powers that dwarfed theirs. And at that moment, Halcyon had never felt weaker and more powerless in his entire fucking life.
Fuck.
"We have studied the old records from Planet One. We have made the appropriate assumptions based purely on evidence," the man continued. "The Titans will come; they need her desperately for any chance of success. It is her powers that can bring the strongest of empires to their knees. And it is dangerously convenient that all seven of our Emperors are her targets. This, they know." His eyes darted towards them, almost pitiful. "We cannot afford to make mistakes. We are all only doing this for your own good as much as we understand that it pains you."
Halcyon sank into his seat, fury roiling under his skin. But Seraphim spoke then, a delicate hand raised. "You promised us that she would be well and alive. But what are you doing now to hold her?" His brows furrowed. "My waters weaken when I try to view her status. And as you all understand, it would benefit us if I could see the Titans before they arrive."
There was a long beat of silence as the alien cleared his throat. "We have deployed Cetus," the councillor announced. And this had Halcyon sitting up sharply, a horrified gasp in his throat which Seraphim echoed.
The name sliced into the room, gasps rippling from the crowd. And Halcyon sat up sharply, breath caught in his throat. Even Dante let out a shaky exhale. Seraphim was the first to snap.
"You did what?"
"Cetus will not kill her," the alien said smoothly, unfazed by their horror. "We have an entire force of scientists on One working on this very topic. Her human half is the weakest complex being in the galaxy, with not a hint of power. This and her Omega nature keeps her alive. Conveniently, her Titan side will struggle to keep up the bond as it loses its ability. It will weaken considerably until her grip upon the Emperors is completely lost. But she will live. We have been careful to keep her vitals in check."
Cetus.
Halcyon's mind spun. A weapon created in collaboration between the planets One, Two and Three. An amalgamation of the strongest of aliens. It was a bio weapon made to fight their enemies, to rule supreme over the other planets. But it had been too damn difficult to control; they'd lost planets over Cetus. For it was a hungry monster known to have a strong taste for blood.
He paled at the thought.
Wors still was the poison that it had. The being was known to contain a toxin that would eat into powers, burning away the abilities of all in its path. The easiest way to kill it had always been to blow up the entire fucking planet with a goddamn nuke. And the weaker Espers poisoned by Cetus' toxins were known to age years within a minute, fading into dust.
Hell, Halcyon didn't even know if he could survive Cetus' poison. He had always assumed that those monsters were all dead after a peace treaty was signed years ago. It had been too dangerous to keep alive. That had been the collective agreement. His eyes darted to Dante, rage frothing forth. But his Alpha did not even flinch, too fucking brain dead to even feel a hint of guilt.
He was like a goddamn zombie.
Seraphim stood then, and this time his rage spiked. "Why was I not told of this? A sea monster is under Planet Three's jurisdiction!"
The asshole bowed lower. "Emperor Dante gave his consent. Cetus was always prepared if a doomsday event occurred and planets had to be sacrificed." His bow only deepened. "A trial was done on the specimens we've collected from the Titans. Cetus is capable of killing and capturing the Elder Gods, who are not that much different in genetic makeup from our own."
Fuck. Fucking hell. Halcyon cursed. Panic exploded within him. With the monster on the planet, how the fuck could they sneak in to save her now? An extraction would now require a full force of high-ranked Espers. They'd essentially created a goddamn kill zone, locking them out of the fucking planet.
Rage now rose from within him, his eyes pinned to the fucker. They were doing this on purpose, keeping them away from her, trying to fucking kill her. And creating a goddamn situation where Halcyon could do nothing to stop them. He bellowed.
"You all have no control over that sea beast! How do you plan to kill the Titans when they arrive? They'll know the moment they're on land and feel their lifeforce wasting away. Those fuckers will run—"
"The lighthouse on the planet keeps Cetus focused. It has been trained to recognise the patterns and rhythms of light and to keep itself hidden within black waters. When they capture and take away the Omega, it will act."
Halcyon barked out a laugh. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"She will survive in its radius, I assure you of that. We have measured the levels and have collectively come to the appropriate conclusion that this will not hurt the Omega—"
"Not if she has no fucking food!" Halcyon roared, desperation rising from within him. "You'll kill her. You'll kill her and every Emperor tied to her. Is this why you've drugged my mates?" His voice cracked, and then he was spilling too much, breaking too hard. "At the very least, bring back the fucking trees. I know we built it in secret, but it tastes like shit. She's not even going to eat that much, it's just to keep her alive—"
The chamber erupted into chaos. The voices were spiking. They were all on their knees now."She needs to be weaker for the Titans to come. Please reconsider, Your Highness."
"Stop fucking telling me to reconsider."
"But Your Highness—"
"Enough!" Halcyon snapped. "You're not even sure if they will come—"
Dante's interrupted him then, low, hollowed, stripped of all warmth. His hand was raised, and he stood. "Continue the monitoring," he said, eyes empty. "The meeting is adjourned."
The gavel fell.
The Council bowed, and Halcyon's heart fell to his knees. The throne, the polished marble, the silk robes, the gilded gold. It now all gleamed like a disgusting cage.
A/N - I'll be updating once every 2 weeks from now on (aka no more part 1 and part 2)
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