Chapter 21

JO’NAY STOOD motionless in the center of the dais, his manacled hands a visible symbol of his supposed guilt, but his gaze was fierce and unwavering. The Head Councilor’s voice boomed across the chamber, its resonant tone an instrument of authority designed to silence dissent. But Jo’Nay would not be silenced. Not today.

“You stand accused of violating the sacred laws of Vetta,” the Head Councilor began, their tone cold and deliberate. “You have taken a mate, fathered a hybrid child, consumed an unapproved substance that altered your genetic makeup, and refused to take your Final Flight. There is nothing further to discuss. Therefore, we find you—”

Jo’Nay instantly interrupted, “I do not deny the actions you accuse me of. But I challenge the premise that these actions are crimes. Ihave not had an opportunity to argue my case. Or is that no longer allowed?”

The audience erupted into a cacophony of murmurs and whispers, their voices a blend of shock, outrage, and faint curiosity. The Councilors exchanged glances, their expressions grim but unreadable. Jo’Nay seized the moment, his voice rising above the noise.

“Let us begin with the first charge,” he said, his tone measured but forceful. “I have taken a mate. Ahuman from Earth. Her name is Winn. This law forbidding warriors to take mates is rooted in the belief that our focus must remain solely on protecting the Nine Galaxies. For four hundred years, Iupheld that law. For four centuries, Igave my life, my body, and my soul to your cause. But my service is complete. Iam no longer a protector. Why, then, am I denied the right to love?”

The murmurs grew louder, and Jo’Nay’s gaze swept the room, challenging everyone who met his gaze. “Your laws demand that warriors sacrifice everything for the greater good, and yet when their service ends, you offer them nothing in return. No peace. No family. No future. Why? What are you so afraid of?”

The Head Councilor’s face tightened. “You were bred for a singular purpose, Jo’Nay. To protect. To serve. To die when your duty is complete. That is the order of things.”

Jo’Nay’s jaw clenched, but his voice remained steady. “The order of things? Or the order that serves your interests? Four centuries of service, and the reward is oblivion? No. Ireject that. Iearned the right to live, to love, to create a future.”

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the chamber. The faces of the Council remained stern, but some of the audience leaned forward, riveted by the power of his defiance.

“And that future includes fathering a hybrid child?” another Councilor interjected, her voice dripping with disdain. “A child that could destabilize the balance of the Nine Galaxies?”

Jo’Nay turned his gaze to the Councilor, his purple eyes blazing. “Destabilize? My child represents the possibility of unity, of coexistence. The fact that he is a hybrid does not make him a threat. It makes him a bridge. Your fear of hybrids is not rooted in logic. It is rooted in archaic prejudice. You speak of balance, yet you cling to divisions that serve only to perpetuate fear.”

He turned to the audience, his voice rising with passion. “How long will we continue to allow fear to dictate our lives? The Nine Galaxies are a mosaic of cultures, species, and histories. The very fabric of our existence is built on diversity. Yet here we are, punishing the very essence of what makes us stronger.”

The chamber fell silent, the weight of Jo’Nay’s words hanging heavy in the air. He pressed on, his voice gaining strength.

“So let us address the third charge,” he said, his tone sharpening. “I consumed an unknown substance that altered my genetics. You frame this as a crime, yet you conveniently omit the fact that my genetics were already altered—by you. By the Vettian government. From the moment I was identified as a Prime, my body was manipulated to suit your needs. The substance I consumed did not harm me. It restored me. It undid what you had done without my consent.”

The murmurs began again, this time tinged with unease. Jo’Nay turned his gaze to the audience, his voice cutting through their whispered conversations.

“You call it a crime to undo what should never have been done in the first place. You robbed me of my agency, of my right to determine my own existence. And now you condemn me for reclaiming it?”

The Head Councilor’s expression darkened, his voice rising. “Your genetics were altered to ensure your strength, your resilience, your capacity to serve. It was necessary.”

“Necessary for whom?” Jo’Nay shot back, his voice a thunderclap. “For you? For your Council? For the system that values warriors only as tools? Necessary is not the same as just. Necessary does not make it right.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping the chamber once more. The audience was riveted now, their faces a tapestry of shock, anger, and reluctant understanding. Jo’Nay took a deep breath and addressed the final charge.

“And now we come to the Final Flight,” he said, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “The ultimate sacrifice. The law that demands every warrior’s death at the age of four hundred. Alaw that is upheld without question, without reason, without mercy. Tell me, Councilors, why must we die?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered. Jo’Nay pressed on, his voice growing louder with each word. “You claim it is for balance. For renewal. But that is a lie. The truth is, you fear us. You fear what we might become if we are allowed to live beyond our service. You fear the knowledge we carry, the strength we possess. You fear that we might demand more than the scraps you offer us. And so you created the Final Flight. Ahideous death sentence disguised as a rite of passage.”

The chamber erupted into chaos. Voices clashed, some shouting in agreement, others in vehement opposition. The Councilors struggled to regain control, their authority slipping like sand through their fingers. Jo’Nay stood tall amidst the turmoil, his presence a beacon of defiance.

“We are not your tools,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise. “We are not expendable. We are not disposable. We are warriors, yes, but we are also individuals. We have given you everything. And we deserve more than death in return.”

He turned to the audience, locking eyes with as many faces as he could. “Think of your brothers, your sisters, your children. How many of them have been sacrificed on the altar of balance? How many lives have been cut short, not because it was necessary, but because it was convenient? The Final Flight is not balance. It is betrayal.”

The Head Councilor slammed his black stone against the wooden bench, the sound echoing through the chamber like a gunshot. The room fell silent, but the tension remained palpable. Jo’Nay’s chest heaved with the force of his words, his gaze locked onto the Councilors.

“This Council will deliberate,” the Head Councilor said, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. “Until then, the accused will remain under guard.”

This time, the enforcers didn’t lead him away and Jo’Nay cast a glance at the audience. Among the faces, he saw fear, anger, and something else—something that gave him hope. Understanding. Compassion. The seeds of change.

He met Winn’s gaze, her eyes shining with pride and determination. Whatever the Council decided, Jo’Nay knew one thing: he had spoken the truth. And the truth had power. This was not the end. This was only the beginning.