Defense platforms fired. They were erased in seconds. Floating cities fell, spires snapping like brittle glass. Streets erupted in chaos. Civilians screamed and fled… only to be cut down without mercy.
The Khar'Vael did not conquer for land. They conquered for order.
Those who resisted were executed. Those who survived were chained.
Lucas and Rin ran. Through smoke-choked streets. Past burning spires. Over bodies once neighbors, friends, strangers whose names would never be known. They helped those who stumbled or were injured by enemy fire, dragging them aside, shielding them where they could. Lucas moved calmly, scanning for paths and danger, while Rin ran with precise fury, shoving back anyone who threatened them or those they saved.
The streets narrowed. Smoke thickened. The boys stayed together, as they always did. "Stay close!" Rin hissed, eyes darting, heart hammering with fear but burning with determination. "I'm right here," Lucas said quietly, measured, a calm anchor against the chaos, steadying both himself and Rin.
They turned a corner. Another alley. Dead end. Their path was blocked. Ahead, a group of Khar'Vael soldiers waited. Black-gold armor, cruel smiles. Weapons ready. Lucas and Rin froze.
There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
They fought with their hands, skills honed from years of street survival. Punches, kicks, grapples—fast, desperate, precise. But they were outnumbered. Every strike met resistance. Every block pushed them back. Then their vision blurred. The world spun in black and gold. The last thing they saw before collapsing was the cruel smile of the Khar'Vael soldiers. Then darkness swallowed them.
Some time had passed. Lucas's eyes fluttered open. The world was gray, dim, cold. His sight returned slowly, blurred at first, then sharpening to reveal the metal floor beneath him. Chains bit into his wrists, cold iron pressing against skin raw from exhaustion. Every breath echoed faintly in the chamber, a hollow sound that made the space feel larger than it should have been.
"Lucas…?" Rin's voice broke the silence, strained with fear yet tinged with relief at finding him alive.
"I'm here," Lucas said, voice low, measured, eyes scanning the room, calm but alert, reassuring Rin without words. "Looks like… we're not far from where we fell," Lucas murmured. They were in a facility. A holding complex for those captured by the Khar'Vael. The walls were smooth and cold, metallic but oddly organic in design, with veins of light tracing along the seams like circuits of a vast neural network. The air smelled faintly of ozone and antiseptic. Others were here, too—dozens of prisoners, humans and aliens alike, some slumped unconscious, others huddled, wide-eyed and trembling.
Tall, angular soldiers patrolled the room. Each one towered nearly two meters, some taller, their movements precise and unsettlingly calm. Their armor was black-gold, almost alive in design, plated over joints like exoskeletons. They carried blasters that hummed faintly—long, sleek rifles capable of cutting through stone and bone alike. The weapons were cradled in their hands as though extensions of their bodies, fingers long and efficient.
Lucas's chest tightened. Beside him, Rin's jaw was clenched, muscles coiled like a spring. He stared at the soldiers, eyes burning with frustration and fear. Neither spoke. They did not yet know what slept inside them. No warmth. No tide. Only fear, anger, and the bond that had carried them this far.
"They think we're broken," Rin muttered, teeth gritted, voice tight, his chest heavy with rage and defiance. "They don't know us," he added. "We survive," Lucas said softly, measured, the quiet strength of someone refusing to panic, offering a lifeline of composure to Rin. "That's all we can do. That's enough… for now," he added, calm but firm.
Prisoners were corralled into floating trucks—large, rectangular vessels hovering just above the ground. Mechanized arms herded them inside with chilling precision. The floor of each truck was lined with clamps and restraints, energy dampeners glowing faintly at intervals. Lucas and Rin were chained into separate compartments, but their eyes met through the dim haze, the silent communication enough. They were together.
The doors hissed closed. Darkness swallowed them. Time stretched. Lucas felt it as a dull, pressing weight behind his ribs. Rin's tension radiated like a second heartbeat beside him. Neither could move, neither could act. Only wait. And fear.
Then the trucks stopped. Silence fell abruptly. The doors opened, releasing a blast of cold, filtered air.
What they saw made breath catch in throats.
A massive spacecraft loomed before them. Not a fighter, not a shuttle, but a city-sized vessel. Its hull black and silver, etched with patterns glowing faintly as if alive. Lights flickered across its surface like the pulse of a heartbeat. The hangar bay was vast, seemingly bottomless, shadows of Khar'Vael soldiers moving in precise formation making the scale feel terrifying.
"Lucas… look at it… it's huge. they're going to take us prisoners… somewhere we won't come back from," Rin whispered, voice tight with fear and awe. "We don't know that yet," Lucas whispered back, steady despite the fear, lending his courage to Rin. "We survive. That's all we can do. We survive… and we find a way," Lucas said, determined but calm.
The loading ramp lowered. Prisoners were herded inside, chains clinking. The ship's interior was dimly lit, with tall corridors stretching into shadows no human eye could measure. Sounds echoed strangely—footsteps, muffled cries, the faint hum of energy fields keeping captives restrained.
Lucas and Rin moved together, careful not to draw attention. They passed other prisoners—eyes wide, vacant, broken. Alien captives from distant worlds, humans drained of color, all silent.
The Khar'Vael soldiers flanked them. Armor gleamed even in dim light. Subtle lines etched into the plating, faint glows running along seams. Energy rifles almost fused to forearms. Not simple soldiers—they were instruments of precision and death.
Every step deeper into the ship increased the weight in Lucas's chest. He felt Rin's tension as clearly as his own—the taut muscles, the coiled readiness, silent fury simmering beneath control. They did not speak, but their bond conveyed everything: survival, trust, unspoken promise they would not be broken.
Captives were guided to holding chambers—rows of restraints built into the floor, walls embedded with glowing strips that hummed faintly. Lucas and Rin were secured, chains biting cold into their wrists, limbs stretched unnaturally.
Lucas and Rin finally allowed themselves a moment to breathe. Fear and adrenaline pressed down, but their bond anchored them. Neither knew what awaited beyond the next corridor, the next door, the next chain.
"They can't control me… not fully…" Rin muttered, teeth gritted, fists straining against chains, voice tight with defiance and unyielding rage. "Focus on surviving," Lucas said softly, a quiet anchor, his resolve clear even in the shadow of despair. "That's the only thing that matters right now," he added, measured and steady.
The last sound before their bodies gave out was the massive ship above, beginning to hum with life. Cargo compartments shifted. Turbines flared faintly. The vessel would soon rise into the sky, carrying human and alien prisoners into the void.
A faint, sweet haze curled into the air. It seeped under doors, through cracks, winding around their senses. Eyes blurred. Muscles loosened. The world tipped sideways. Lucas felt the stirrings of unease—the dread of the unknown—before darkness claimed him.
Beside him, Rin's tension mirrored his own, eyes burning, muscles taut. He reached out toward Lucas, but his hand faltered. Vision blurred, darkened, as the creeping haze claimed him too.