The transport tube doors hissed open with a dreadful finality.
Mali was shoved forward, stumbling into a room that stole his breath. He was on the Command Deck of the Sovereign.
The room was a vast, hemispherical dome. One entire "wall" was not a wall at all, but a single, perfect viewport looking out onto the breathtaking, terrible beauty of the Aethel Imperium fleet, hanging against the star-dusted blackness of space. The floor was a polished, midnight-black stone that reflected the starlight like a still lake. Scores of officers in immaculate white and gold uniforms worked at holographic consoles, their movements silent, economical, and focused. The only sound was a deep, subsonic thrum—the heartbeat of the flagship.
In the center of this terrifying, silent stage stood two groups.
To his right, General Kaelen, his face now a mask of pure, unreadable military duty. Behind him, four of the golden Scion Guards, their rifles held at ease, their very presence a statement of lethal power.
To his left, another delegation. They wore uniforms of deep indigo and silver, their tailoring sharp and precise. Their guards were just as imposing as Kaelen's, but where the Scion Guard looked like golden gods of war, these soldiers looked like elegant shadows, their armor a dark, non-reflective composite, their faces hidden behind mirrored silver visors.
And in front of them, her.
Princess Anya of the Cygnus Ascendancy.
She was exactly as he'd feared: perfect. Her indigo and silver uniform was tailored to her form, regal and severe. Her dark hair was pulled back in an intricate, practical braid. She stood with a posture so straight it could have been drawn with a ruler. But it was her eyes that held him. They were a sharp, intelligent green, and they were not looking at him with awe, or pity, or disdain.
They were analyzing him.
Mali felt like an insect. A piece of dirt that had been tracked onto a pristine white floor. His new Novitiate Tunic felt like a beggar's rag. His hands, though scrubbed, felt permanently stained with the grime of the market. He wanted to run, to hide, to dissolve into the atoms Kaelen's weapon had turned his old clothes into.
His System, his cruel new companion, flashed in his vision.
[DEBUFF: Imposter Syndrome - STACKS (x3)]
[WARNING: Social-based action (CTL) at -75 penalty. Probability of successful diplomatic engagement: 2.1%]
He was going to be sick again.
The silence in the room stretched for an eternity. The two factions stared, the unblinking future of their intergalactic alliance hinging on this single, trembling boy.
General Kaelen broke the silence, his voice a parade-ground bark. "Princess Anya of the Cygnus Ascendancy. May I present His Royal Highness, Mali Alkahest, Heir to the Aethel Imperium."
Mali flinched at the name. It felt like a costume he was being forced to wear. He knew he was supposed to bow, or speak, or something, but his throat was locked. His LEVEL 1 brain was trying to process a LEVEL 100 problem.
Anya's delegation looked... appalled. A stern, older woman at Anya's side, her silver hair in a tight bun, let her gaze trail from Mali's cheap boots up to his terrified, unprincely face. Her lip curled in a micro-expression of pure contempt.
This was it. This was the moment his life ended, again. He was a fraud, and they all knew it.
Princess Anya held up a hand. Her own guards, who had been stiffening, relaxed. She took a single, deliberate step forward, breaking formation.
The older woman hissed, "Your Highness, don't."
Anya ignored her. She walked across the polished floor, closing the gap until she was only a few feet from Mali. The entire command deck held its breath.
She was studying him, her green-eyed gaze missing nothing: his white-knuckled fists, the way he was shaking, the raw terror in his eyes.
Mali braced for the judgment. For the cold dismissal. For the order that would have him thrown in a brig as an imposter.
Instead, Anya's analyzing expression softened, just slightly, into one of profound... curiosity.
"General Kaelen," she said, her voice clear and warm, not loud, but carrying in the perfect acoustics of the room. It was the first kind sound he'd heard since the portal opened.
Kaelen grunted in response. "Princess."
"Your 'contaminant scrubbers' are impressive," Anya continued, her eyes still on Mali. "But they missed a spot."
Mali blinked. What?
Anya raised a graceful, gloved hand. She didn't point at his face, or his clothes. She pointed at his left hand, which he was clenching at his side.
"There," she said.
Mali numbly uncurled his fist. He looked at his palm. There, embedded in the calloused skin near his thumb, was the splinter he'd gotten from the luma-fruit crate. A tiny, insignificant piece of wood from a life that already felt a galaxy away.
He stared at it, dumbfounded.
"You are Mali Alkahest," she said, and it wasn't a question. "But you were also the boy in the market. You carry your past with you."
She looked up and met his eyes. And she smiled.
It wasn't a political smile, cold and practiced. It was small, genuine, and impossibly disarming. It was a smile that said, I see you. All of it. And it's okay.
Mali's world, which had been spinning out of control, suddenly found a single, stable point to orbit. Her.
The System window flashed.
[NEW BUFF RECEIVED]
> (BUFF) Anya's Favor: You have piqued the interest of Princess Anya. +10 to (PER) and (CTL) when in her proximity.
[Imposter Syndrome] penalties are temporarily reduced.
Mali let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. It came out as a shaky, half-sobbing gasp.
"Your Highness!" The older woman from Anya's delegation snapped, striding forward. "This is unseemly! We were promised an alliance with the most powerful house in the cosmos, and they present us with... with a stray!"
The new buff in Mali's head flickered, the debuff threatening to return.
Kaelen's hand went to the hilt of his sidearm. "Watch your tongue, Ambassador. You are addressing the Heir of Alkahest."
"Am I?" the Ambassador shot back, her eyes like ice chips. "He looks like a cowering refugee. This alliance is based on strength. We see none."
The room was about to explode. The Scion Guards and the Cygnus soldiers were now openly glaring, their hands moving to their own weapons.
"Enough."
Anya's voice was quiet, but it cut through the tension like a blade. She turned to her Ambassador. "You are right, Ambassador Vael. The alliance is based on strength."
She turned back to Mali, her smile gone, replaced by a look of sharp, appraising intelligence. "General Kaelen, Ambassador Vael... neither of you understands what you're looking at."
She took one more step, invading Mali's personal space. She was so close he could smell a faint, clean scent, like ozone and frost. She leaned in, speaking low, for his ears only.
"They see a stray," she whispered, her eyes intense. "I see a star-eater in a cage. I have read the histories of your House. I can feel the void in you. It's terrified. And it's beautiful."
She leaned back, her voice rising to a clear, public proclamation.
"He is exactly what was promised, Ambassador. He is an Alkahest, in his purest, most untempered form." She held out her gloved hand to Mali. Not for him to kiss, but for him to shake. A greeting of equals.
"My name is Anya, of House Cygnus. It is a true honor to finally meet you, Mali Alkahest. We have a great, great deal to discuss."
Mali stared at her outstretched hand. It was the first choice he'd been given since the portal opened. It was an anchor. It was a lifeline.
His STATUS window flashed one more time.
[QUEST UPDATED]
> Solidify the Cygnus Pact
> Objective (1/2): Speak with Princess Anya privately.
[COMPLETED]
> Objective (2/2): Accept her as your ally.
> [ACCEPT (Y/N)]
His hand, splinter and all, was shaking so hard he could barely control it. But he forced it to move. He forced it to rise.
He took her hand.