Chapter 58: Dr. Alan Griffin

Evelyn closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then she leaned over to the bedside table and pulled out a small, flat object, half-hidden under a pile of notes. An envelope.

Wrinkled. Weathered by time. But precious.

She handed it over without a word. Vykhor took it carefully, almost reverently. He unfolded the paper and read the words silently.

My dear Evelyn,
It’s time for me to go. I’ve done everything I could to give you a chance at a normal life, far from the horrors of the lab. But I can’t stay here. I have one last mission to complete: destroy that cursed place and all the research that caused you so much pain.
It’s the only way to ensure your safety, to make sure no one ever finds you again or drags you back there. I know you’re strong. You’ll find your way. You’re meant for great things, Evelyn. You have a generous heart and a brilliant mind. I believe in you.
I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, but know this: I am proud of the person you’ve become.
Take care of yourself.
With all my love,
Alan

Vykhor slowly lowered the letter, his jaw clenched.

Evelyn broke the silence, her voice barely audible. “He found me when I was raw. When I didn’t understand the world—or people. When I thought… I wasn’t functional outside the lab.”

She finally looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy, but steady.

“He taught me how to dress myself. How to hold a fork. How to talk to someone without staring at the floor. How to build a space of my own. He… he taught me what it meant to live.”

Vykhor placed the letter gently on the bed and straightened slightly, still eye-level with her.

“And then he left you.”

Not an accusation. Just a statement. Cold. Blunt. Typically him.

Evelyn nodded slowly.

“Yes. But I never blamed him. He protected me. That’s all he ever wanted. And I think he really did… love me. In his own way.”

A silence settled between them. Then she whispered:

“I always hoped he was alive. That someday, I’d see him again. That he’d tell me… he missed me.”

Vykhor sat beside her, pulling her gently against him. She didn’t resist. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“He saved you. But you’re the one who built yourself. Who you are today, Evelyn… that’s something only you shaped.”

She didn’t answer. But she leaned into him, a little tighter.

And for once, Vykhor didn’t try to chase the sadness away. He let it exist. He knew she needed that.

After a while, Evelyn spoke again, more composed:

“Do you think it’s really him, Vykhor?”

The Kael’tarien didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Or someone who wants you to think it is. And either way, we have to go.”

She nodded, then gave a faint smile.

“You know… he used to say I was too curious for my own good.”

“He was right.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Tav’Ren.”

A low growl—not annoyed. Not really.

“I’m your Tav’Ren. And I’m taking you to face your past. But if something feels off, if I sense a trap... I swear to you, Evelyn, we don’t play the heroes. We get out.”

She placed her hand over his.

“I trust you.”

The Narak’Tharr drifted silently in low orbit above Mendark-9, hidden from ground sensors by the Kael’tarien’s advanced stealth systems. The planet below seemed calm. Too calm, perhaps.

In the armory, Vykhor methodically checked his equipment, his face a mask of focus. He adjusted his combat armor, double-checked his weapons—each piece clicking into place with military precision. Beside him, Evelyn tightened the biometric band around her left wrist. The other one—the one he had given her, the one that had already saved her from a grabby drunk on Drakkar IV—was secured on her right.

Vykhor stepped over, gently took her wrist. He turned her hand over, checked the sensors, made sure both bands were responding properly.

“Your heart rate’s good. Nutrient levels are stable. Defensive protocols are active.” His eyes lifted to hers. “You’re ready.”

Evelyn, clad in her black exploration gear, tightened her belt and gave him a slightly tense smile. “Still weird hearing you talk about me like a fighter.”

“You’re not a fighter,” Vykhor said bluntly. “You’re more than that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment?”

“It’s a fact.” He tilted his head. “But you’ll have to prove you’ve been listening to my lessons.”

He stepped back, taking a training stance. Evelyn groaned quietly and rolled her eyes… but mirrored him, her own stance steady. Not perfect, but solid. He’d seen far worse. Far sloppier.

“Alright, My’Lari,” he said, voice calm. “Show me how you block a close-body attack.”

“With you in front of me? What if I break my arm?”

“You have two arms.”

He didn’t smile. But his eyes—those eyes—gleamed with amusement.

She moved. Fast and fluid—for her. But Vykhor caught her wrist, pivoted, and had her pinned in under a second before letting go.

Evelyn stumbled, scowled, then straightened up. “You could at least pretend I have a chance.”

“You do have a chance.” He stepped closer, one hand gently adjusting her hip. “But your strength isn’t brute force. It’s your mind. Your instinct. Your ability to analyze faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. I just want your body to catch up with your brain.”

She took a deep breath, then nodded. “Alright. Again.”

So she did. Again. And again. Vykhor corrected, blocked, redirected. Sometimes made her fall—never roughly, always controlled. Until her reflexes sharpened. Until she moved quicker. Reacted better.

When he finally let her breathe, he stepped back, arms crossed.

“Not bad.” He pointed at her. “If you’re in danger, you run. Don’t fight. Aim for weak spots. Call me. Protect yourself.”

Evelyn nodded, her gaze steady now. “Understood.”

“That lab isn’t a ruin,” he added, walking toward the console. “It’s not an abandoned wreck. It’s a site built by Griffin. And that man is anything but ordinary.”

“That’s exactly why I need to go, Vykhor.”

She approached, locking eyes with him.

“He’s tied to my past. Maybe to my future. I need answers.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then, wordless, he pressed the panel and initiated descent protocol.

The mission had begun.

The Narak’Tharr pierced through the cloud cover of Mendark-9 in chilling silence, cloaked beneath stealth fields. The dense atmosphere filtered a ghostly, pale light tinged with sickly green hues, casting an eerie glow over everything it touched.

In the cockpit, Vykhor flew manually, jaw tight. The surface loomed closer—a rocky expanse marked by angular structures eroded by time. At its center, nestled between two bleak mountain ranges, stood the old research facility.

“So this is where Griffin’s secrets were born,” Evelyn whispered, standing beside him.

She hadn’t looked away from the screen since they’d entered orbit. Not one word beyond that. Griffin’s message echoed in her mind, like a fragment of an old dream… or a nightmare.

Blue, perched behind her on the backrest of a passenger chair, stared at the landscape with unsettling focus. He hadn’t quite been the same since Iskaara and Vykhor’s test. His posture, his eyes, his silence—he was listening. Sensing. Understanding.

And waiting.

Vykhor set the Narak’Tharr down in a rocky crevice, hidden from ground surveillance.

He stood, checked his weapons one last time, then turned to Evelyn. “You stay behind me until the landing zone is cleared.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“And you,” he added, glancing at Blue, “stay subtle. No flipping out. No food theft.”

Blue blinked slowly, utterly unrepentant for the dumpling theft on Anatu Prime. But this time, his body tensed. He understood this mission was different. And he was ready.

The ramp lowered. A dry, dust-laden wind swept through the cargo bay. The air smelled of rusted metal and forgotten secrets.