Chapter 49: My'Lari and Tav'Ren

The ship landed smoothly on Platform 7 of Kojak 11, inside the secured perimeter of an abandoned transit station, hidden from authorities and curious eyes. Cracked walls and dim lighting gave the place a kind of reverent, almost sacred air. Evelyn, still a bit weak, descended the ramp beside Vykhor. He didn’t say a word, but his arm brushed against hers now and then—an invisible, grounding presence.

Tarn Vesik waited for them in one of the old officer quarters. Slouched in a chair, long limbs folded awkwardly, he sat hunched over with a projected screen in front of him. When he looked up, Evelyn noticed he looked older, more worn than when they first met. But there was a new fire in his eyes. A soft kind of resolve.

“You came,” he said simply, greeting them with a nod.

Vykhor stayed back, arms crossed. Evelyn stepped forward.

“We have the data. And the kids are safe, onboard the Narak'Tharr.”

Vesik nodded, visibly moved. He took a deep breath, like he was about to give a speech he’d practiced a thousand times in silence.

“These children…” He faltered, his voice catching. “They’ve only ever known cells, tests, pain, and fear. I started this mission because I want to give them something else. I want to be what no one’s ever been for them: someone reliable. A… father figure.”

Evelyn blinked, surprised—and touched. He continued.

“I want to find a peaceful planet. Uninhabited, or sparsely populated. Build a home there. A real life. I want to see them run, breathe, grow. And when they’re ready… they can choose their own path.”

Vykhor tilted his head slightly. “And the data?”

“To understand what was done to them. To anticipate any genetic or psychological issues that could show up later. To protect them… if something ever goes wrong.” Vesik swallowed hard. “And to give them answers. If they want them.”

Silence settled, heavy but not uncomfortable. Evelyn glanced at Vykhor.

She murmured, straight to the point: “Iskaara.”

Vykhor didn’t respond right away. Then he gave a simple grunt of approval. They knew the place. Isolated. Wild. Beautiful. Far from any major systems. Safe. And if no one gave away its location—undiscoverable.

“Iskaara could work,” Evelyn said. “It’s a natural sanctuary. And… I know every corner of the region we camped in.”

Vesik hesitated. “You’d… let me go there?”

“Not alone,” Vykhor replied without missing a beat. “We’ll escort you. Help you get settled. Then we leave.”

Evelyn gave a soft smile. “The kids are already getting attached to Blue... I think it’d be good if we didn’t just disappear like every other adult in their lives.”

Vesik gave a shaky, sincere smile. “Thank you. Really.”

Vykhor turned on his heel. “Get ready. We leave at dawn.”

And as they left the room, Evelyn glanced at the screen where biometric readings and soft voice recordings of the children played. Shy laughter. Whispered questions. A flicker of hope.

Yes. Iskaara would be their sanctuary.

And Evelyn, thinking of it, felt something loosen in her chest.

A weight gone.
A mission that mattered.
And maybe… the start of a future a little less dark.

The Narak’Tharr drifted silently through the stars, its engines humming like a quiet breath held in. The kids were asleep, Kryna was monitoring everything, and Blue snored softly in the corner of the medbay. Evelyn had slipped away into one of the observation alcoves—those small glass havens offering a breathtaking view of galactic space.

Sitting cross-legged, her notebook in her lap, she stared at the constellations, lost in memory fragments her hypermnestic mind kept replaying with painful precision.

The cry.
The breath in his voice.
“MY’LARI!”

She had felt every syllable hit her like a lightning strike. Her mind had understood the meaning long before the words reached her. It wasn’t just a nickname. Not some made-up term.

It was a promise. A truth.
A silent oath.
A Kael’tarien I love you.

She’d searched for that word for days.

But only by living it had she truly understood what it meant.

And now, she wanted to return the favor.

She flipped through her notes—linguistic snippets, roots, suffixes. Nuances only a mind like hers could untangle. The noblest, oldest terms. Not just a flat translation. She needed something with weight. Breath. Meaning. Something real. Something worthy of him.

Then she stopped on one word.

Tav’Ren.

In the archives, it had several meanings: “watchful strength,” “pillar.”
But in one old Kael’tarien poem, she had found a definition that resonated deeply:

“Tav’Ren—he through whom the world stops trembling.”

She smiled softly, heart pounding. That’s what he was to her.

The one who anchored her.
Her rock in the storm.
Her Tav’Ren.

She closed her notebook, pressing her palm to it gently, and whispered into the quiet vastness of space:

“You called me My’Lari, Vykhor… Now let me call you Tav’Ren.”

The Narak’Tharr broke through Iskaara’s atmosphere with barely a whisper, gliding through iridescent clouds until it reached the familiar shores of a secluded beach—where bioluminescent waves lapped gently at the black sand, glittering under the light of two moons.

Evelyn had stayed by the viewport the entire descent. She watched Iskaara’s shimmering surface with a soft smile. This was the place where everything had shifted. Where she had begun to understand Vykhor—and herself. This was where it had all changed. And now, it would be where new lives could finally begin.

Behind her, the former test subjects—still scarred, inside and out—gathered quietly near the exit ramp. Some of the children held Tarn Vesik’s hand. Others huddled together, wary, scared, but strangely calmed by Iskaara’s natural peace. And by Blue, who marched beside them like a tiny soldier.

Vykhor, ever vigilant, kept watch over the disembarkment with a sharp eye. He didn’t like taking his gaze off Evelyn, especially around strangers. But here... he felt almost calm. Almost.

Tarn Vesik was the first to step out, his boots sinking into the dark sand. He looked up at the crystal cliffs along the beach and took a deep breath.

“This place is… perfect.”

Evelyn stepped down after him and nodded. “No signal. No beacons. No civilization for miles. Just sea, forests, and crystals…”

“And peace,” Vesik whispered. He glanced back at the kids, some of them wide-eyed at the moonlit reflections dancing across the water.

Vykhor walked over, hands clasped behind his back. “Iskaara is under the Narak’Tharr’s protection. No one’s going to disturb them here.”

Vesik gave him a grateful nod. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Vykhor stared him down, serious as ever. “Then do what you said. Be their guide. Their protector.”

The ex-scientist nodded, visibly emotional.

Evelyn watched the kids run slowly toward the sea, Blue jumping into the waves like a playful pup. She smiled, then turned to Vykhor. Her eyes sparkled—not with sadness, but with hope. With beginnings.

“We’re giving them a future.”

Vykhor looked at her for a moment… then slid his hand into hers.

“And we keep walking toward ours.”

The supernatural calm of Iskaara was soon stirred by the focused bustle of a well-coordinated setup. Supplies hauled from Kojak 11 now covered the shimmering black sands. The kids, still a bit dazed from their escape, watched with quiet curiosity as crates were opened, shelters deployed, and the mercenaries moved efficiently under Vykhor’s strict orders.

Vykhor stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression dark as he took it all in like a captain watching his ship being turned into a humanitarian caravan.

“My ship is not a storage unit,” he muttered under his breath—like saying it might somehow make it true.