Chapter Thirty-One

Amid the vast expanse of space and the ever-shifting currents of time, our bond stood as the most profound exploration. We were in love, obsessed with one another, caught in a pocket of stars and gifted with an ephemeral moment of peace.

Everything and nothing had changed. The beginning and end of it all.

He, my warrior, began to reveal to me the heart of his city's secrets. Over sushi and sake, he told me of his astral explorations. He regaled me with tales of voyages, recounting a thousand planets visited across diverse realms, from the familiar fourth world to the enigmatic sixth. How he, at age sixteen, went rogue and became a bounty hunter. His independence was encapsulated in his starship, a vessel christened "RougeStar", a name that echoed his youthful defiance and his quest for the unknown.

Over long walks through the streets of his city, where he was just one of many armored warriors, he unveiled to me his childhood. A tale of shadows and secrets, his childhood shrouded by his mother's clandestine liaison with the Emperor. His upbringing was nurtured in the hidden alcoves of power, shielded from the wrath of the Emperor's wife.

Around flickering fires on his rooftop terrace, with a panoramic view of the city and xocolātl, which he told me was spiced hot chocolate, he skimmed over his scars with grace. The trials of his youth, the years stolen as a captive laborer to the Empire. How when he attempted to escape he was tortured for two more.

Within the hallowed sanctuaries of his faith, among alien creatures from every corner of the galaxy who had come to his homeland to pray, he told me of his people's religion. "There is only the first," he declared, an incantation that resonated beyond the bounds of time. Empires and epochs may have crumbled, yet the core remained—the Great Mother, a singular force that transcended existence.

In the reverberation of gunshots at a shooting range, his touch on my elbow ignited a spark that mirrored the explosive energy around us. It was my turn to share, to reveal the tapestry of my past. I wove tales of childhood camaraderie with Irina, and the forging of bonds with Amaya, Saija, and Aelia. Parties, laughter, and fleeting moments of happiness adorned the threads of my narrative. Yet, certain scars remained veiled, a delicate dance between revealing and preserving.

Kairos loved him. It was evident when we walked through the streets they revered him. Although it was unclear if his armor gave him anonymous recognition; if they praised him as a prince, or as an honorable Kaimari Warrior. His silver iridium armor stood apart from the Emperor's golden-clad soldiers, a visual representation of his individuality. He remained unswervingly beautiful in his authenticity.

As we walked back to RougeStar from a Kairos suburb where he had taken me to meet his friend's cat (and yes, I mean only his cat) I overheard something peculiar. The joyful clamor of children engrossed in a spirited soccer match reached my ears. Pausing in my tracks, I observed the scene with intrigue. The young players, their energy palpable, chanted a name that reverberated with familiarity—"Kaden! Kaden!"

At first, my assumption inclined towards a connection with the Kaimari Warrior at my side. His armor had garnered admiration and awe from the locals, making it conceivable that his presence might provoke such an outpouring of admiration. A fleeting thought of encouraging him to join in flitted across my mind.

However, a deeper realization soon unfurled. Their exclamations weren't directed at him. Amid the cheers and triumphant celebrations, it became clear that the accolades were bestowed upon one of their own—a young boy who had deftly scored a goal. "Kaden!" they cried a manifestation of esteem and a verbal medal of honor reserved for those who excelled on the soccer field.

Turning my gaze towards the Kaimari Warrior, I sought insight into this unexpected occurrence. His response was tinged with an enigmatic smile, an embodiment of his nonchalant demeanor. "Perhaps, in some distant universe, I was a soccer prodigy at the age of fifteen," he mused, his shrug conveying a whimsical ambiguity.

I only responded with laughter.
—--
He and I were a force of nature, a tempestuous summer storm that swept us away in its torrent of passion. Our desire flourished like the August warmth, an all-consuming fire that raged within us. He led me on a journey of reckless abandon, claiming me on every inch of his home, and his home was rather large.

Our journey began in the kitchen, where boundaries dissolved as readily as the spilled contents of a red wine bottle. Crimson liquid dripped over my bare skin, a sacrificial offering to our shared hunger. He drank from the curve of my breasts, his lips leaving trails of molten heat along my neck as if savoring the elixir of life itself.

In the bedroom, he ignited a blaze that consumed us both, igniting a symphony of screams that echoed through the vastness of his domain. The walls of our haven were witness to our symphony of pleasure, my voice rising in crescendo to affirm the name that had become my whispered mantra.

In the aftermath, as the sun cast a golden glow over our tangled limbs, he suggested a dip in the pool. My body felt like a shipwreck, but his gaze beckoned me to join him. I followed, my steps guided by the pull of his gravity until we stood at the edge of a stone pool, an oasis carved into his world.

As he swam, I observed him from my reclined position, soaking in the spectacle of him against the canvas of a setting sun. Of all our time and conversations together, the issue of his helmet never came up. Not once did I ever request to see him, nor did he offer? It was sacred, it was understanding. There were no words needed to exchange about it. He could die in that helmet, me never having seen anything but the sliver of his amethyst eyes in the night, and I would love him all the same. I would love him in anybody.

Although this particular body, swimming strong and pulsing with muscular life, was my particular favorite.

“Aurora, join me.” His words over the past few weeks had all been commands. I was never much of a feminist, nor exceptionally feminine, yet found myself in a submission devoid of gender. A state of being where vocalized affirmation had become my only language.

My hair was gathered in a claw clip, a casual gesture that exposed my collarbones and shoulders to the gentle embrace of water. The last trace of the three suns lingered on the horizon, casting a final, soft glow over the distant mountains. The sky was a shock of brilliant deep violet.

With subtle grace, I wound my legs around his waist, giving in to the pull that drew me closer to him. His chin found its place above my head, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against my ear. His presence was both grounding and ethereal as if he were a traveler between realms, a figure that transcended the boundaries of time and reality.

I was willing to surrender all reason to the allure he wielded over me. If it meant being ensnared in the depths of his love, I would willingly become his captive. Let the world outside fade away; I would embrace the delusion of our connection, an existence carved solely by his touch.

As his words broke the tranquil spell, a sense of unease washed over me. His voice held a weight that hinted at the gravity of the conversation to come. I looked up at him, my finger tracing the edge of his enigmatic helmet, a boundary I had never dared to cross. The sight of him alone was intoxicating, a testament to the profound effect he had on me.

He spoke with the same directness that often preceded our most intimate moments, a stark contrast to the tenderness we had shared moments before. His words carried a solemn truth. "Our time is coming to an end," he said, and I felt a knot of apprehension tighten in my chest.

"Are you leaving?" I ventured to ask, the question laden with a vulnerability I hadn't anticipated.

His response was measured, his voice unwavering. "I will always fight to keep us together, my love, but the horizon holds the specter of war."

My finger hesitated on the edge of his helmet, a symbol of his mysteries. His profile held a sense of purpose, a resolve that spoke of battles to come. I found myself entranced by the iridium visor, a piece of him that I had failed to question.

He continued, his words unexpected in their gravity. "I want you to return to Astreaus, to claim the kingdom."

A sense of incredulity welled up within me, and I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, a mixture of surprise and disbelief. My hands instinctively retreated from the touch of his skin. "Return to where you rescued me from?"

His response held a calm determination, a conviction I had come to recognize. "I didn't rescue you; I taught you to rescue yourself."

I grappled with his words, a mix of confusion and frustration. "So that's it then? I just retrace the same path?"

He persisted with his argument, his gaze unwavering. "You are a skilled ruler, someone who devoted herself to Irina. If the ruling is your desire, if you yearn for the privileges that come with it, I want those to be yours."

I couldn't help but interject, my voice tinged with skepticism. "But you're a prince."

He corrected me with a tone of self-awareness. "I am a bastard, a rogue warrior," he admitted. "I can't offer you a kingdom. Your past role, the prospect of marriage to Azhrel, those offer you the path to two."

I shook my head. “I don't want to marry Azhrel. I don't want any of this you're proposing."

A rare sense of vulnerability seemed to wash over the warrior. As if his words were an admission of his pain. “I cannot offer you what you deserve.”

"Kaimari," I murmured, drawing him back into my embrace. "You are my paradise. You are my kingdom.”

His gaze turned to mine, and an overwhelming urge to capture his essence in a kiss surged within me.

"Remove your helmet," I demanded, a quiet fervor lacing my voice.

"Close your eyes.”

“Seal them shut.”

Each of his movements held a magnetic pull, drawing me further into his enigmatic allure. "I would know you by touch alone," I confessed as his lips brushed mine. "I would do anything for you."

His grip on my shoulder grew stronger. "Your surrender is all I've ever desired," he whispered.

“Then take it,” I gasped, my voice a mixture of longing and anticipation. “Show me your shadows, reveal to me what you want.”

His hand found its way to my thighs, his touch both gentle and firm as he parted them and slipped a finger inside.

"My desires are too dark for your pure soul," he protested, yet we both understood his objection was only an invitation.

"Your darkness is mine now," I affirmed, determination lacing my voice. "Show me every facet of your being, every action devoid of soul. Let me love you even more for it."

"Very well," he conceded, his touch leaving mine. I discerned his movements, his form emerging from the water and returning in a heartbeat.

“W-what is this?” I inquired as he leaned over the pool's edge and carefully placed something over my eyes.

“A blindfold, to assist you,” he answered, his touch gentle as he assisted me out of the pool.

“Come, sweet girl,” he called from some distance, and I could feel it, something in the air shifting.

With a cautious step forward, my heart racing, I could only make out the faint outline of the stone path ahead through the sheer fabric covering my eyes. His voice, firm and commanding, cut through the tension. "No, Aurora," he reprimanded, his tone unforgiving. "Crawl."