Chapter 50: A New Life for the Test Subjects

Evelyn, sitting a bit farther away with a tablet in her hands, looked up with a calm smile.
“This is temporary, Vykhor. We did the right thing. And you know damn well you’d have said no to anyone else—except those kids.”

He didn’t answer, but his silence said it all. She was right, like she usually was.

Tarn Vesik was coordinating the camp layout, surprisingly more at ease here than in the halls of a lab or the corners of some underground base. With Evelyn’s help, he’d designated three main zones: a shared canteen in the center, a dorm near the cliffs, and a small infirmary set slightly apart, just by the edge of the crystal forest. That’s where he’d be staying—a modest but functional house, living up to the promise he’d made to stay close to the kids.

Energy modules had been set up and connected to the buildings. The security barrier Vykhor had started was already surrounding the area in a discreet electromagnetic field. Power came from amplified solar collectors and a backup generator buried in the rocks.

As for Blue, he’d pretty much declared himself chief inspector of the premises. He leapt from crate to crate, sniffing at the kids with cautious curiosity, watching the installations with those big, glowing eyes of his. Every time he passed by Evelyn, his gaze softened and his tail twitched with contentment. The kids had already started giving him nicknames—some were even brave enough to scratch his head when he got close.

As the sun set its twin disks over the shimmering sea, pink and blue light bathed the newly built camp. The kids, sitting around a controlled fire, were laughing for the first time in a long while. Their faces, still marked by pain, finally showed a hint of innocence again.

Vykhor stood on a natural overlook, watching it all. His eyes landed on Evelyn, sitting cross-legged and chatting quietly with Tarn, Blue curled up at her feet. He’d chosen Iskaara for its peace, its beauty... but what he saw now was more than he’d ever expected.

It was the beginning of something real.

Night had settled over Iskaara, casting a starry veil above the newly set-up camp. The twin moons glowed in the sky, bathing the bioluminescent waves and crystalline vegetation in an opalescent light. The camp was almost sacred in its quiet, broken only by the crackling fire Tarn had built in the middle of a ring of stones.

“No mess hall tonight,” he’d announced with a warm smile. “We’re sharing a real meal. A freedom meal.”

The kids, hesitant at first, had gradually let the moment carry them. The smell of food simmering—a fragrant broth with marinated vegetables, toasted bread, and caramelized plant-based meat—filled the air with something comforting.

Tarn worked the fire like a seasoned sailor, flipping pans and makeshift skewers like a man who’d fed a whole tribe before. Evelyn joined in, holding a small bowl handed to her proudly by a young boy with iridescent skin. She didn’t understand their language yet, but the smiles in their eyes said enough.

Blue had settled like a royal guardian on the edge of the circle, stretched out with his head on his paws. The kids approached shyly to pet him, and he accepted their attention with noble patience. One little girl had even braided a crystal twig into his fur. Evelyn had giggled when she saw it, but Blue didn’t mind.

Vykhor, as usual, kept to the background. Watching. Protecting. The fire danced in his golden eyes as he looked over the kids, Tarn hunched over a pot, and especially Evelyn—sitting between two girls, her laughter ringing out when one of them tripped trying to mimic her.

She was glowing.

And something loosened in Vykhor’s chest. He’d never wanted a home—not after everything he’d lost. But now... he found himself picturing this fire still burning years from now. The kids grown. Stronger. Evelyn still at the heart of it all.

When she caught his gaze, her smile softened. She patted the empty spot next to her. He hesitated, then sat down heavily, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Are you starting to like it here?” she asked softly.

He nodded, then added in his own way,
“It’s... tolerable.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, laughing, when a little voice piped up from the circle.

“Is it true you’re a prince, Mister Vykhor?”

Silence fell instantly. Every kid turned to stare at him. Evelyn bit back a laugh into her sleeve.

Vykhor blinked slowly. Then, deadpan:
“I was.”

“What are you now?” another voice asked, curious.

He glanced at Evelyn, at the cat by his feet, at the fire, at the kids.
“A mercenary. A protector.”
Then, after a pause:
“And maybe... a bit more than that.”

Tarn returned with steaming bowls, passing them into eager hands. He raised his own makeshift cup, carved from a crystalline tree nut.

“To freedom regained. And to those who never stopped believing in it.”

“To freedom!” the children echoed, eyes shining bright.

And under Iskaara’s twin moons, the fire kept burning—a silent guardian of new beginnings.

Night had wrapped Iskaara in peaceful silence, broken only by the distant sound of the bioluminescent waves and the soft whisper of wind brushing through tall, crystal-coated grass. In their tent, set a little apart from the makeshift dorms, Evelyn and Vykhor had finally found a moment of calm after the evening by the fire.

Blue, curled up at the foot of their shared cot, breathed steadily, his fur gently pulsing under the low light of the wall lamps. He’d refused to sleep anywhere else—despite Vykhor’s half-serious attempts to kick him out. In the end, the Kael’tarian had caved, under Evelyn’s gentle (and slightly teasing) stare.

Evelyn lay nestled against him, one leg draped over his, her head resting on his collarbone. Her fingers traced slow, familiar patterns on the cobalt skin of his chest. He didn’t say a word. He just let himself enjoy it.

A quiet moment. A breath held between stars.

Then she shifted a little, and looked up into his eyes.

“Tav’Ren.”

Vykhor blinked slowly. “What?”

A mischievous smile tugged at Evelyn’s lips as she pushed herself up just a bit, still curled into his side.

“That’s your name now. Well… your name to me.”
She hesitated, then added softly, “Tav’Ren means ‘my rock’, or ‘the one who doesn’t waver’ in Kael’tarian. I spent days digging through your language archives, breaking down roots and suffixes, pestering Kryna when you weren’t looking…”

He stared at her, unmoving. His golden gaze searched every flicker of emotion on her face.

“You gave me a name. In Kael’tarian.” His voice was low. Steady. But something else was there, just under the surface—something shaken. Something real.

“Yes.” She placed her hand gently on his cheek.
“Because you’re my anchor. Because I hold on to you when everything else falls apart. Because without you… I wouldn’t be me.”

Silence fell. Heavy. Charged.

Then, in a quiet voice, he asked,
“You figured out what My’Lari means, didn’t you?”

Evelyn nodded, her eyes shimmering with emotion.

“When you shouted it… inside that base…”
She swallowed hard. “I was alone. Scared. And that word was all I had. My’Lari. And the second you screamed it, I felt it in my bones. I knew what it meant. Not just in your language… but in your heart.”

Vykhor studied her for a long moment. Then he slid his hand into her white hair, pulling her gently back against him.

“My’Lari,” he whispered at her ear,
“means ‘my star’, or ‘my guide’. It’s a word we only say once in a lifetime.”

Evelyn closed her eyes, overwhelmed. Her fingers clutched at his skin.

“And I’m… yours?” she breathed.