Chapter 51: The First Fight

Vykhor leaned in and brushed her forehead with a kiss, the kind of reverent touch one would give to a sacred relic.

“You're the one I chose to bring me back to the light, Evelyn Ashcroft. My My’Lari. And no one will ever take that from me.”

And in that little sanctuary of warmth and fabric, far from the galaxy and its conspiracies, a fallen prince and a woman born of shadows sealed a silent promise—under the watchful eye of a sleeping blue feline.

The morning fire crackled softly in its pit of dark stones, warming the still-crisp air of Iskaara. A thin mist hovered above the ground, brushing over black rocks and translucent grass swaying along the edges of the camp. The twin moons were fading, replaced by the first pale rays of dawn.

Vykhor moved quietly, preparing breakfast with his usual precise gestures. He grilled a few plant-based ration cakes, added some smoked protein, and poured two cups of Kael’tarian-style coffee—dark, thick, bitter. Just how he liked it.

Evelyn showed up a little later, wrapped in a soft jacket, hair tousled, cheeks flushed from the cold. Blue padded lazily behind her and flopped down at her feet, half-curled against her boots. She scratched his head absently, a soft smile on her lips.

“You’re already up?” she asked Vykhor, grabbing one of the grilled cakes.

“I never really slept,” he replied, his voice even rougher in the early morning.

“You should try it sometime. It’s nice, you know.”

She shot him a playful look as she sat down beside him. He raised a brow but didn’t answer. He just handed her a cup of coffee, a quiet gesture that had become a ritual between them.

The silence was comfortable. Easy. Blue let out a light purr, rolling closer to Evelyn, who absentmindedly traced little circles on his glowing fur.

Vykhor, seated beside her, watched the horizon. He took a long sip of coffee and let his gaze drift into the shifting tones of Iskaara’s sky, where the mist thinned beneath the nacreous light of dawn.

Evelyn had no idea what was coming.

He finished his coffee in silence. Evelyn, still beside him, continued petting Blue, completely unaware.

“We’re leaving in an hour,” Vykhor said suddenly, like he was talking about the weather.

Evelyn blinked. “Already? But… weren’t we supposed to help Tarn finish setting up the infirmary?”

“He doesn’t need us anymore. We’ve got a mission to prepare.”

Her brows furrowed. Something was off. Too rushed. Too cold.

But Vykhor shut down the conversation with a firm tone. And while Evelyn was distracted by Tarn showing her a local medicinal plant, Vykhor reached down and rested a hand on Blue’s collar, gaze hard.

“Show me what you’re made of, little one.”

Then, without another word, he ordered Kryna to prep for takeoff—timing it so Evelyn would be busy saying her goodbyes to the children... without noticing Blue wasn’t with her.

The ship vibrated gently as its engines began the launch sequence. Evelyn, leaning against the wall in the cargo bay, calmly strapped down a crate of medical supplies they'd salvaged from Iskaara.

Then, like always, instinct kicked in.

“Blue?” she called, lighthearted, expecting the little blue puffball to appear at her feet, tail up, purring.

No answer.

She frowned. Scanned the bay. Nothing. No meow. No soft nudge against her leg.

“Blue?” she said again—louder now.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She bolted for the common room, threw open compartments, peeked into every corner.

Nothing.

Slowly, she turned toward the cockpit.

Vykhor sat at the pilot’s seat, eyes locked on the dashboard. Calm. Focused. Like everything was perfectly normal.

“Vykhor… where’s Blue?”

He didn’t answer right away.

She stormed up to him, fists clenched.

“You knew he wasn’t onboard.”

A heavy silence filled the cockpit.

Finally, Vykhor spoke. Calm. Controlled.

“I wanted to test him.”

Evelyn blinked like the words took a moment to register.

“Test him?!” Her voice cracked with panic. “You’re talking about an animal, Vykhor! A baby, even! You left Blue behind without telling me—without giving him a chance!”

He stood, imposing.

“He’s not just an animal, Evelyn. He’s a powerful creature. A future predator. He has to choose. If he wants to stay by your side, he’ll come.”

His words were logical. Strategic. Kael’tarian.

But Evelyn’s eyes were a storm.

“And what if he doesn’t want to prove anything? What if you lost him back there?”

The ship had already left the atmosphere.

Too late to turn around.

She turned away sharply, eyes glistening, shoulders stiff.

And for the first time in a long while… Vykhor felt doubt.

Not about the plan.

But about how he’d carried it out.

The Narak’Tharr had been out of Iskaara’s orbit for several hours now. The usual hum of the ship was quieter somehow. Evelyn, curled up in one of the lounge chairs, held a light blanket around her. She hadn’t said much. Barely anything. Not even to Vykhor.

Since takeoff, she’d offered a nod here, a tired smile there. But he noticed the change. No more humming while she wandered the corridors. No soft laughter when she tapped on her data pads. And worst of all… she hadn’t touched her journal since they’d left.

And him? He sat in silence, chewing on his own thoughts. On the test. The trial.

Then, a quiet alarm chirped from the cockpit.

“Traffic detected in the atmospheric exit zone,” Kryna announced calmly. “Small Kael’tarian craft. Model: Autonomous Tactical Pod.”

Vykhor straightened, golden pupils narrowing.

He left the lounge without a word.

In the lift, his heart beat faster—though not a single muscle in his face gave him away.

He stood in front of the secondary airlock, arms crossed. He waited. Fifteen long seconds. Then—click.

The hatch opened.

And with a puff of vapor, two clawed paws touched down.

A sharp little growl. Then a graceful leap.

Blue.

His blue fur was a mess, tufted and sticking out in weird places, but those bright eyes left no room for doubt.

He’d found his way back.

Home.

Vykhor crouched slowly, hand extended.

Blue didn’t growl. In fact, he stepped forward… and rubbed his head against the Kael’tarian’s fingers.

“Tss... stubborn,” Vykhor muttered under his breath. “But loyal. And maybe worthy.”

Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

When Evelyn heard the familiar sound of the door, she didn’t look up right away. Not at first.

But then… a sound.

A soft meow. Almost shy.

Her hands trembled.

She turned sharply—and dropped her tablet.

“Blue?!”

The little feline strode toward her, tail high despite dusty paws. Evelyn dropped to her knees, arms wide, eyes full of tears.

“You came back… you really came back!”

Blue jumped into her arms, purring loudly against her chest. Evelyn clutched him tight, unable to stop the flood of emotion.

From the shadows of the doorway, Vykhor watched in silence.

He didn’t smile. Not really.

But in his eyes—and in the faint easing of his shoulders—it was clear.

He had his answer.

Blue belonged to them. For good.

And there’d be no more tests.

Narak’Tharr, side corridor. Shortly after Blue’s return.

Evelyn walked fast, Blue in her arms, her boots clacking a little too hard against the metal floor. She needed air. Not oxygen—just distance. Clarity.

She felt betrayed.

Vykhor had planned this. Tested Blue. Tested her. And she didn’t know if she was more angry or hurt. Probably both.

But before she could reach the maintenance deck, a familiar silhouette stepped into her path.

“Evelyn.”

His voice was deep. Calm.

She stopped.

“You want me to listen, or yell at you?” she asked, not even looking at him.

Silence.

“You can do both.”