Chapter 15

fifteen

. . .

Katarina

The cold, jagged spires of Blacktalon Keep loomed over us like the skeletal fingers of a long-dead giant, scraping the blood-red skies.

"Be well, I'm off to fight other battles," Raza said. He stood tall, his eyes taking in the swarms of Griffins in the distance. A twinkle glimmered in his eyes.

"You are going to take care of the Tomb Ship, aren't you?" I knew Raza wouldn't leave without making a statement.

"I don't mix well with feathers, as you well know. But I've grown rather fond of this one. Consider it a gift as I leave a parting gift on the way out." He saluted us and boarded the small shuttle to head back to his ship and get the hell out of here. No time for sadness, though. Raza left in a plume of dust and we turned in time to see a small group approaching.

Thaumas and I had barely set foot on the crumbling obsidian landing platform when a retinue of Griffin warriors approached, their expressions a mix of suspicion and thinly veiled hostility.

"Thaumas Leion'ct," one warrior sneered, his voice a guttural rasp. "Returning home after all these cycles. I wonder what brought you back from the stars."

Thaumas's wings flared subtly, a warning more than a greeting. "I came to fight for Raptoria, Varkos. To defend our kin from the dark tide rising against us."

Varkos's gaze flicked to me, his eyes narrowing. "And you brought...a human? Are we so desperate that we need to consort with offworlders now?"

My spine stiffened at his disdain, but Thaumas's taloned hand on my shoulder grounded me. "Katarina is my mate," he said, the words a clear declaration. "She has fought by my side and earned her place here."

The looks from the other warriors ranged from skeptical to outright dismissive. I sensed the undercurrent of tension, the unspoken challenge in the air. Thaumas's return was not the homecoming one might expect.

As we followed our guide inside the Keep, the halls resounded with the memories of a once-great lineage now teetering on the brink of ruin. The opulence of the past was visible in the faded tapestries and cracked marble floors, relics of a time when the Griffin clans ruled the skies with an iron wing.

We reached a grand chamber, the heart of the Keep. On a raised dais, a Griffin with streaked gray plumage sat, his eyes sharp as flint. Thaumas bowed slightly, a gesture of respect laced with tension.

"Father," he said, his voice measured.

"Thaumas," his father replied, his tone icy. "You return to us, not as the prodigal son, but as a stranger. And with a human no less. Explain yourself."

"I come with warnings and allies," Thaumas said, his voice steady. "The Necrontyr are rising. Raptoria is under siege. We must unite to stand a chance."

His father's gaze shifted to me, assessing. "And this human? What role does she play in this grand plan?"

I stepped forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "I am Katarina," I stated firmly. "I've fought beside Thaumas. I'm here to help, to fight, and to protect what he holds dear."

The old Griffin's gaze softened, but only slightly. "Brave words. But loyalty and valor are not proven in words but in deeds."

With each passing day, we became entangled in a web of political intrigue and familial drama. The clans were fractured, divided by old wounds and new fears. Alliances were fragile things, and every conversation seemed to carry the weight of hidden agendas.

Thaumas's father, Lord Leion'ct, was a formidable presence, his authority undisputed but always challenged by those hungry for power. I quickly learned that within the Keep walls, every glance, every word, was a carefully crafted weapon.

"We"re treading a fine line here," Thaumas said, his voice low and measured.

"I know," I replied, feeling the tension in the air.

"But we can"t let them dictate our every move," he continued, his eyes flashing with determination.

"We"ll find our own way," I said, meeting his gaze with a steely resolve.

"Your family..." I started while searching for the right words. "They're not exactly thrilled with your return."

He gave a mirthless chuckle. "They see me as the wayward son, the one who abandoned his duties. And bringing you here...well, that only complicates things."

I reached for his hand, our fingers lacing. "We'll navigate this.."

He looked at me, amber eyes glowing softly in the dim light. "You're stronger than they know, Kat. Stronger than they'll ever give you credit for. But we can't trust anyone here. Not fully."

"I figured as much," I said, my voice steady. "We'll play their game, but on our terms."

The days bled into weeks, a tense dance of alliances and betrayals. I watched and listened, learning the undercurrents of Griffin politics. There were those who saw Thaumas's return as a chance to reclaim lost glory, while others viewed it as a threat to their own ambitions.

One night, as we lay in the small chamber allotted to us, Thaumas shared more of his past. The trials and tribulations that had shaped him, the sacrifices made and the blood spilled. I held him close, feeling the weight of his burdens and vowing silently to help shoulder them.

The next morning, someone called us to a council meeting. As we entered the grand hall, I felt the stares, the whispers. But I held my head high, drawing strength from Thaumas's presence beside me.

The council was a circle of power, each member a key player in the intricate dance of Raptoria's future. As Thaumas presented his case, laying bare the threat of the Necrontyr, I could see the cracks in their unified front. Fear and doubt gnawed at their resolve.

Then, a voice rang out, clear and challenging. "Why should we believe you, Thaumas? You, who abandoned us for the stars?"

A younger Griffin, sharp-eyed and fierce, stepped forward. I recognized him as Varkos's son, a rising star in the political arena.

Thaumas met his gaze unflinchingly. "Because I've seen the darkness gathering at our doorstep. And if we don't stand together, we will fall. All of us."

The tension was palpable, the room a powder keg waiting to ignite. I held my breath, waiting for the verdict. Then, slowly, one by one, the council members nodded, their expressions grim but resolute.

"We will fight," Lord Leion'ct declared, his voice ringing with finality. "For Raptoria. For our future."

I stood beside Thaumas as the council dispersed, a fragile unity forged in the face of annihilation. The air hummed with a grim resolve, a shared acknowledgment of the trials ahead. Yet beneath the determined faces and squared shoulders, I sensed an undercurrent of fear, the icy tendrils of doubt that even the bravest warriors couldn't quite shake.

Thaumas turned to me, his amber eyes shadowed with concern. "Kat, I need you to stay close. There are too many variables here, too many potential threats."

I nodded, my hand instinctively seeking the comforting weight of my pulse rifle. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, a fleeting warmth in the chilly halls of Blacktalon Keep. "How could I forget? You're stubborn as a fucking mule."

I huffed a laugh, bumping my shoulder against his. "Pot, meet kettle."

We made our way through the winding corridors, the ancient stone seeming to whisper of secrets and betrayals long past. I couldn't shake the prickling sensation between my shoulder blades, the sense of unseen eyes tracking our every move. Thaumas mantled his wings, his feathers bristling with a tension that mirrored my own.

As we turned a corner, a flicker of movement caught my eye. A shadow detached itself from the wall, a blur of mottled gray and black that resolved into a hooded figure. Time seemed to slow, seconds stretching into eons as my brain processed the threat.

The figure raised a hand, a glint of metal flashing in the torchlight. A blade, wickedly curved and dripping with some foul ichor. Aimed straight at Thaumas's unprotected back.

"No!" The scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate. I lunged forward, shoving Thaumas aside with a strength born of sheer adrenaline. He stumbled, caught off guard, as the assassin's blade whistled through the space where he'd been standing a heartbeat before.

I brought my rifle up, finger tightening on the trigger, but the assassin was already moving. They whirled, cloak flaring, and something slammed into my chest with the force of a runaway hovertrain. I staggered back, gasping, as a searing pain blossomed beneath my ribs.

Thaumas roared, a sound of pure fury and anguish. He leaped at the assassin, talons extended, wings beating the air like thunder. They collided in a tangle of limbs and feathers, a whirlwind of savage grace. I blinked, trying to clear the spots dancing before my eyes. The pain was a red-hot brand, pulsing in time with my frantic heartbeat.

I forced myself to move, to bring my rifle to bear. The assassin had Thaumas pinned, a taloned hand wrapped around his throat. I saw the glint of the blade, the flex of muscles beneath the dark fabric. Gritting my teeth, I lined up the shot, praying to any gods that might be listening.

The pulse bolt seared the air, a lance of blinding blue. It struck the assassin square in the back, burning through cloth and flesh with equal ease. They arched, a strangled cry escaping their lips, before crumpling to the ground in a boneless heap.

Thaumas surged to his feet, chest heaving. He spun to face me, eyes wild and desperate. "Kat! Fekk, are you?"

I managed a weak grin, even as the world tilted alarmingly around me. "Just a scratch, babe. You know me, too stubborn to die."

He was at my side in an instant, taloned hands gentle as they eased me to the floor. I looked down, grimacing at the spreading stain of crimson marring my shirt. "Okay, maybe a bit more than a scratch."

The sound of running footsteps echoed through the halls, a tide of urgent voices and clanking armor. I let my eyes drift closed, suddenly too heavy to keep open. The pain was a distant thing now, muffled beneath a blanket of encroaching darkness.

"Kat? Katarina, stay awake! Dammit, where are the fekking healers?!" Thaumas's voice seemed to come from far away, a desperate plea teetering on the edge of hysteria.

I wanted to reassure him, to tell him I was fine, but the words wouldn't come. The world was fading, slipping away like sand through my fingers. I clung to the solid warmth of Thaumas's embrace, the only anchor in a sea of numbing cold.

As the blackness claimed me, one final thought crystallized in my mind, sharp and gleaming as a shard of obsidian. This was only the beginning, the first salvo in a war that would shake the very foundations of the galaxy. And I, Katarina, the stubborn, star-crossed human, would be at the center of it all.

For better or worse, my fate was inextricably bound to Thaumas, to Raptoria, to the savage dance of survival that awaited us. And I would face it head-on, with fire in my veins and a song of defiance on my lips.

The deathless defenders, indeed. Let the Necrontyr come, with all their chittering hordes and eldritch nightmares. We would be ready, Thaumas and I. Ready to fight, to bleed, to carve our legend into the stars themselves.

Even if it cost us everything.