Chapter 82: Who’s the Prey?

**The Master — Within a Forgotten Sanctuary**

Hundreds of suspended crystals pulsed in unison. A black-gloved hand paused mid-motion. Data cascaded across semi-organic, semi-technological screens.

A jump.

The Narak’Tharr.

And aboard it: Evelyn Ashcroft.

The Master tilted his head. In the reflection of the glass wall, his eyes gleamed.

"Just as expected... Every step brings them closer to me."

Then, in a voice low and almost affectionate:

"You still think you choose your path, Evelyn… but even your detours bring you back to me."

**Aboard the Narak’Tharr**

The interstellar jump had barely ended when Kryna’s alert pinged the main interface — red, brief, precise.

“Stealth signature detected. Source: external casing of the secured container, biometrically locked.”

Evelyn raised her head. Zeynn blinked in confusion.

But Vykhor…

He froze. His golden eyes ignited with an almost incandescent fire.

“A beacon?” His voice was low, each word cutting like a blade.

Kryna confirmed clinically:
“Passive device. Activated at the moment of the jump. Signal likely transmitted upon entering distortion space.”

The silence that followed was loaded. Too loaded.

Evelyn opened her mouth. “Vykhor, wait, we don’t know if—”

“It’s Marn Sevil.” His tone left no room for argument. “An ex-Kryon agent, protected by traitors… still a traitor himself.”

Zeynn stepped forward, cautiously. “Maybe he didn’t know? Maybe he—”

“He knew.” Vykhor turned on his heel and stormed out of the command deck. Evelyn followed, but it was already too late.

His boots thundered through the corridors of the Narak’Tharr like an omen. He reached the scientist’s cabin in less than thirty seconds.

The door slid open abruptly. A Kael’tarien didn’t knock.

Marn Sevil, seated in a dim-lit corner, looked up slowly. His arms were crossed, expression unreadable.

“You have something to say, Voldarian?” Vykhor growled.

No answer. That same eerie calm that only enraged predators more.

Vykhor stepped closer. “A beacon. Hidden in your mission cargo.”

The energy veins on his prosthetic glowed, throbbing. His fury was no longer restrained.

Evelyn arrived just behind him, out of breath.

“Vykhor—”

He lifted a hand. Sharp. Final.

“Not now.”

He leaned in, eyes burning.

“You know what that means? Hunters. Assassins. Enemies. And she’s aboard.”

At “she,” his gaze flicked to Evelyn, then back to Sevil.

“You’re still a pawn. Kryon’s, the Master’s — doesn’t matter. But I’ll pull the truth from you, and trust me… it’ll leave scars.”

Still no reply.

But this time… something flickered in Sevil’s eyes. Pain. Regret? Fear?

But not guilt.

—

Meanwhile, in the rest bay, Kryna detected a high-priority coded transmission. Authorization: Evelyn Ashcroft. Priority level: Eclipse.

The message downloaded directly into Evelyn’s private interface. Her belt vibrated — a familiar, long-lost signal.

Griffin.

Without hesitation, she left, her pulse racing. Blue followed silently, sensing her tension. He stood guard as she activated the message in an isolated storage room.

A black screen. White text. Direct. Griffin’s style.

Priority Message – Griffin-7 – To: Evelyn Ashcroft
Evelyn,
If you’re reading this, I’ve breached another wall and found a secure window to reach you unnoticed by the Master.

Marn Sevil has been marked. Literally. A device inside him — silent, fatal — keeps him from speaking. Not won’t. Can’t. If he tries… he dies. That’s not a metaphor. It’s biological fact.

He worked, briefly, under the man behind Project Ashcroft. He never saw his face. Doesn’t know his name. But he knows his intent.

He didn’t betray anyone. He survived. And now he watches you with the same fear I once had — the fear of your mind falling into the wrong hands.

You are their miracle. Their masterpiece. But not their property.

Don’t count on his words.
Count on his actions.
He’s more like you than you think.

— A.

Evelyn’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded.

Griffin knew. And as always… he’d anticipated everything.

—

She found Zeynn near the secondary hatch.

“I need you. Now. And Blue.”

He raised an eyebrow. “To pull Vykhor away? You want me to distract him how, exactly? Offer him a Krëptenkh match?”

“Be creative,” she whispered. “I need to talk to him. Alone.”

Zeynn sighed. But Blue gave a nod — almost human. Plan approved.

—

Moments later, in a quiet corridor near the command bay, Evelyn caught Vykhor’s arm. He didn’t turn — he recognized her warmth. Her scent.

“You didn’t listen,” she said calmly.

“I protected you,” he replied, unapologetic.

She lifted the unit. “Griffin sent a message. He saw this coming.”

His pupils narrowed. Then he turned to face her.

She activated the hologram.

Griffin’s voice filled the air.

And Vykhor listened.

Long silence.

Then, a slow exhale. A storm, calmed… not extinguished.

“So… he’s a prisoner in his own body,” Vykhor murmured.

“Yes. And he knows everything. But can’t say it.”

He stood motionless. Fists clenched. Then looked at her.

“Then you’ll have to get him to speak… without dying.”

She nodded. “I’ll try.”

“No, My’Lari,” he said, his palm resting gently at the nape of her neck. “You’ll succeed. Because I won’t let him die with answers you never hear.”

—

**Command Deck — Minutes Later**

The alarm erupted. Red. Piercing. Every wall vibrated.

“Kryna?” barked Vykhor, eyes snapping to alert.

“Two enemy signatures. Starboard and port. Heavy interceptors, plasma weapons. Tactical formation: pincer. Engagement likely in seventeen seconds.”

“They’re boxing us in,” Evelyn muttered, scanning the holoscreens.

“Not if I blast their cores first.”

Zeynn’s voice crackled through comms. Already at his turret, strapped in, eyes gleaming.

Blue, at Evelyn’s feet, rose. A low growl rumbling.

“Zeynn,” Vykhor ordered. “I’ll cover your flank. Aim for their engines. Kryna, recalibrate his trajectory. Evelyn, secondary console.”

“On it!” Zeynn called. “Time to find out what these bastards are made of.”