Chapter 1
Gaelec
B ack straight, tail stiff, and my chin lifted, I advanced with an assurance I didn’t truly feel under the unusually quiet gazes of the other inmates. Lord Amreth looked even more imposing than usual with his massive bat wings, heavy horns, and silver-white eyes that observed me as I approached with the bag containing my few possessions.
For twelve years, twelve looong years, I served my sentence in one of his Quadrants on the dreadful prison planet Molvi. The Obosian Warden examined me in silence with an unreadable expression. It took every bit of my willpower to keep my own features neutral, despite the wild pounding of my heart.
“Time to go, Gaelec,” the Warden said at last with his deep, rumbling voice.
I nearly felt faint with relief. Although he had always been fair and a male of his word, life had thrown too many sneaky blows at me. I now expected foul play at every turn.
“Time indeed, Warden,” I replied, proud that my voice sounded calm and steady.
He lifted a wand-like stick from his weapons belt. No words were required for me to know what he wanted. I held my bag before me while he ran the scanning device over it. Although he appeared focused on that menial task, the Hell Lord—as humans labeled them—remained keenly aware of his surroundings and ready to parry any treacherous attack anyone might launch on him while they believed him distracted.
The Obosians—who owned and operated this prison—received that Hell Lord nickname for their apparent resemblance to mythical beings they called demons but with dark gray skin. And this place certainly qualified as what humans described as Hell.
All the worst criminals ended up here.
Although I didn’t consider myself as such, the crime I committed guaranteed a first-class ticket to this nightmarish place. For all that, I had been lucky in my demise. Each Hell Lord controlled a sector of the prison planet. Those sectors were divided into four Quadrants ranging from Light to Dark. Q1—commonly referred to as the Light Quadrant—was reserved for those who committed the least grievous crimes and generally could expect to be released at the end of their term. Q4—the Dark Quadrant—was pretty much a death sentence. They regrouped the foulest criminals there. As for Q2 and Q3—the Gray Quadrants—your chances of survival gradually decreased. It all came down to the luck of the draw as to who else you were incarcerated with.
I had landed in the Light Quadrant. Considering how painful my stay here had been, I couldn’t imagine surviving the tougher ones.
“You’re all good,” Amreth said as soon as he finished scanning both my bag and me.
He gestured for me to get inside the shuttle that had landed in the open square in front of the building that served as our dwelling. It was located a short distance from the facilities where we performed the refinement and transformation work on the minerals we extracted in our sector.
My heart soared as I headed towards the vessel. A few other inmates cheered, some of them jeering as they finally came to life. I made eye contact with as many as possible. I didn’t care for most of them. And yet, my chest slightly constricted as I teasingly waved or nodded in farewell. For all their faults and flaws, they’d been my tribe for varying durations over the past twelve years.
I wasn’t foolish enough to assume the sadness I glimpsed here and there came from actual sorrow over losing me , Gaelec. They merely mourned the skills I diligently acquired during my stay on Molvi and put to good use for the improvement of our Quadrant and quality of life.
My mind reeled as I climbed the ramp into the shuttle. I had not left this wretched place since my incarceration. Something akin to a wave of panic attempted to take root, but I clamped down on it. I hadn’t fought this long to regain my freedom only to cower back to what had become almost safe in its familiarity. For all its hardships, the Quadrant was a controlled space with clear rules and expectations. Now, I was going right back into the unknown.
I settled in one of the twelve passenger seats of the shuttle. To my surprise, the Warden didn’t shackle me. Instead, he sat across from me in the chair reserved for the guard that normally escorted convicts here from the triage center of the spaceport.
He crossed his legs and leveled his glowing eyes on me with a discreet but amused smirk on his generous lips. By all accounts, Lord Amreth—like many Obosian Lords—would be deemed a very handsome male. His skin was on the darker spectrum of gray, his shoulders broad, and his muscles bulging and ropey. In sharp contrast, long, silver white hair, typical of his species, cascaded down his shoulders. But it was his silver eyes that always hypnotized me, the way they stood out against the black sclera.
“You used your time among us well, Gaelec,” Amreth said at last in a pensive tone as soon as the shuttle doors closed, and the pilot got us airborne. “You’ve learned some excellent trade skills, worked hard, and above all, you behaved. I would have hated to be forced to challenge your release, had you acted otherwise. But now that you’re regaining your freedom, please see to it that you do not commit crimes again.”
I stiffened and narrowed my eyes at him. Although I expected a similar speech on my way out, something in the way he said this set all my senses on high alert.
“Why would I?” I challenged.
“In too many ways, your culture condones or incentivizes it,” he replied in a factual manner devoid of any condemnation. “Once back home, you will face many pressures to go back to the type of activities that got you caught in the first place.”
My stomach knotted at the accuracy of his statement. Undoubtedly, my Pride would quickly start putting pressure on me to participate in potentially lucrative missions to benefit our whole community.
I shrugged, trying to keep a nonchalant attitude about it. “That’s true. However, as you’ve stated so well yourself, I’ve worked hard over the past decade. Every month, I made it a point to exceed the minimum productivity quotas to earn extra credits. After all this time, I have very comfortable savings. If I lead a reasonably frugal life, the interests alone will suffice to cover my expenses.”
My heart sank when the Warden took on a commiserating expression laced with a hint of pity.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I demanded, the suspicion blossoming deep within sparking my anger. “You deposited my wages into my savings account, did you not?”
He bristled at the implication that he might have embezzled my credits. That he appeared to decide to let it slide only increased my growing sense of doom. Obosians were almost fanatical in their obsession with upholding the law, which made them the perfect species to run the strictest penal facility in the galaxy. Accusing one of them of committing a crime was the greatest insult imaginable.
“Of course, I did. However, most of it is gone.”
“WHAT?!”
In my shock and anger, I shot out of my seat and towered over him. Obviously, it had been an instinctive reaction in no way meant as a threat towards him. However, it could be easily perceived as such. I realized my error in a blink. Although he didn’t move from his seating position, the Hell Lord’s hands immediately began to glow as the electric tendrils of his Lumiak crawled over them.
They were electric energy that the Warrior breed of their species could summon at will. At low intensity, it zapped the target with a powerful enough discharge to temporarily incapacitate them. At maximum intensity, it would flat out burn you to cinders.
He didn’t have to say a word. The hard glint in his silver eyes did all the talking. I mumbled an apology as I resumed my seat. He stared at me a moment longer, his stern expression making it clear he would prove a lot less lenient should I make that mistake again. Duly chastised, I lowered my eyes even as my mind continued reeling about his shocking statement.
“Your savings have been siphoned by your Pride. The Matriarchs considered it as your contribution.”
“My contribution!” I exclaimed, crestfallen. “Why the fuck would I contribute to the Pride when I wasn’t even there?! Why did you even allow this without my consent?”
“I didn’t know,” Amreth said in an apologetic tone. “In truth, I only found out three years ago when Argin returned.”
I stiffened, and I felt my blood drain from my face. “Argin?! He was arrested again ?”
Amreth nodded with a grim expression. “Yes. Worse still, he was sent to another Warden’s sector, but this time in a Dark Gray Q3.”
My chest constricted with sorrow for the older male. He had become a mentor to me two years into my sentence and for the following seven years before he completed his own.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said, utterly baffled. “Argin saved a lot of credits. He was the one who encouraged me to learn new trades on top of teaching me everything he knew. He kept repeating to prepare a safer future for when I got out so that I would never return here. Why would he commit another crime?”
“Because your Pride did the same thing to him that they were doing to you,” the Warden said, anger audible in his voice. “He returned home to find all his credits gone. But for him to stay, they demanded a steady contribution. As he was too old by then for a Pride to want to keep him otherwise, participating in one of those ‘missions’ was his only hope not to be expelled. He got caught and lasted less than six months in Q3.”
A slow growl rose in my throat. Teeth clenched, I fought the urge to let my claws extrude so that I could tear everything to shreds to vent the helpless fury I felt. The older male deserved—earned even—the right to a peaceful retirement. Our Pride’s greed robbed him of countless years of his life in prison, and then killed him by depriving him of his means to survive.
“As soon as I realized what they had done, I intervened,” Amreth continued in an appeasing tone. “It was too late to save him, but I did what I could to give you a fighting chance once you were released.”
“How did you intervene?” I asked, fighting with my conflicting emotions.
“Seeing what they had done to Argin, I decided to check into your own accounts. As you belonged to the same Pride, I suspected your Matriarchs would behave the same way with you. Sadly, they did. Therefore, I stopped depositing your wages in that account, had your assets frozen, and then transferred into a new account where I added your other earnings from that point forward.”
He removed a small object from his belt which I recognized as a credit stick. Feeling numb, I instinctively reached for it when he extended it to me. I stared at it blindly, still in shock. I wanted to mourn the old male, but thoughts of what awaited me back home clamored for my attention.
“I cannot get back what they already stole from you, but this contains the information on that account with all the credits you earned over the past three years,” Amreth said softly. “Under the circumstances, I took the liberty of putting those credits in a safe investment account. The capital was guaranteed, and it earned you some respectable interests. It’s nowhere near what you would have had without the theft, but it will give you a comfortable enough amount to start off with so that you will not be strong-armed into falling again.”
I gave him a stiff nod. He deserved a far more elaborate response. He didn’t owe me any of this. In truth, many Wardens likely wouldn’t have lifted a single finger had they been in his position when this tragedy unfolded with Argin. For Obosians, the fact that you committed a crime was all that they cared about, motives be damned other than to justify an even harsher sentence.
“Gaelec,” Amreth said, the sternness of his voice reclaiming my attention. “As soon as you go home, your people will push you down a dangerous path again. You must resist.”
Even though he was likely right, I instinctively felt defensive—if not offended—on behalf of my people.
“You don’t know that,” I countered with a clipped tone.
“I do, and so do you,” he retorted more harshly. “I’ve seen too many of your people in similar situations. It becomes an endless vicious cycle with Nazhrals. You have a nice soul, Gaelec. You’re smart, strong, still very young, and with great potential. Do not waste it. Do not allow yourself to be manipulated. I would hate to see you again on Molvi. Be warned that a second offense is a guaranteed sentence at minimum in Q2 but more than likely Q3 or Q4. Do not get yourself killed over this.”
I barely repressed a shudder. He didn’t have to go into further details for me to know that as talented a hunter and fighter as I was, my chances of surviving another journey on Molvi were slim to none, especially in one of the darker Quadrants. He also didn’t have to specify that a second sentence would be far longer than the twelve years I just served.
“Your words have not fallen on deaf ears,” I said in a non-committal fashion.
He stared at me quietly for what felt like an eternity, making me want to squirm. A million thoughts were crossing his mind. With a conviction I couldn’t explain, I realized the Warden was debating whether to say something else. That piqued my curiosity. Obosians were brutally honest and borderline callous in the way they always spoke their minds.
“The United Planets Organization and the Enforcers are launching a massive campaign to put an end to smuggling, piracy, and slaves trade,” Amreth said at last, while appearing to carefully choose his words. “Be aware they’re setting many traps to catch anyone participating in these illegal activities. Too many allies are negatively impacted by these crimes.”
My eyes widened to hear him reveal such a thing. Granted, it didn’t take a genius to know that all galactic merchants and traders fumed at the rampant issues they faced with space pirates. Obviously, my people weren’t the only ones involved in these crimes, but we certainly played a huge part in it.
“If anyone even remotely hints at a mission involving the Levendoc Corporation, avoid it at all costs. You will not survive it,” Amreth warned at last just as the shuttle was entering the docking bay of the spaceport.
“Why are you telling me all this?” I whispered, my confusion audible.
“Like I said, you have a nice soul. Too many decent people get on the wrong side of the law because of bad influences. You’ve been given a second chance. Don’t waste it.”
With that, the Warden rose to his feet and headed for the door. Considering how extremely cautious he always was whenever he visited the Quadrant where we were incarcerated, seeing him turn his back to me threw me for a loop. My chest constricted at this extreme display of trust. Granted, he could see my soul and therefore if I harbored any ill intent towards him. Still, he wouldn’t have done this inadvertently. He made a deliberate choice to further drill in his message.
He believed in me.
Do I believe in myself enough to do right with the opportunities presented to me?
We quietly walked down the ramp into the large ship hangar. It was a different area than when I first arrived here. Only a couple of guards hung around in a very laid-back fashion, unlike the processing area with countless security measures that could instantly kill anyone foolish enough to attempt a last-minute escape.
A few people briefly glanced in our direction, most politely nodding at my companion. The deference they showed him reminded me that his Lord title stemmed from the fact that he was indeed nobility.
He led me to a medium-sized ship where a few other ex-convicts who had completed their sentences were also boarding. It would transfer us to various bigger vessels that would take us to our respective homeworlds or destinations.
The Hell Lord gestured with his chin for me to proceed. I nodded and started climbing the ramp only to stop at the top. I glanced over my shoulder at the Warden, who was stoically staring at me, waiting for me to get inside for his duty to be completed. For a reason I couldn’t explain, my chest constricted again as if I was saying goodbye to a friend. And yet, our interactions couldn’t have been farther from it over my more-than-a-decade stay here.
“Thank you, Warden,” I caught myself blurting out.
I didn’t know what I was thanking him for specifically, but he seemed to sense what I meant. His glowing eyes slightly went out of focus, and his face softened in a way I couldn’t recall ever witnessing before. Although he was only a few years older than me, his almost paternal expression struck me hard.
“Safe journey, Gaelec. May you find happiness and prosperity.”
I didn’t know what peering at my soul just now revealed to him. Whatever it was, it pleased him. With one final nod, I entered the vessel. As much as I hated the Obosians—more on principle because of their self-righteous sense of superiority—I had tremendous respect for Lord Amreth. In a different world, I would have loved to be friends with him.
Contrary to my initial beliefs, I didn’t socialize or take advantage of all the amenities offered on either of the two vessels aboard which I traveled during the trip back home. My new freedom felt overwhelming, as was the economy cabin paid for by the Obosian justice system to return me to my people. While most customers would find plenty of faults with the room, from its size to the quality of the mattress, to me, it felt overly luxurious.
And everything was too quiet.
Who would have thought that I would resent proper soundproofing one day? However, spending twelve years with the only guards being some of the foulest creatures that roamed the forest surrounding our Quadrant had taught me to fear silence. When the wildlife stopped making any noise, it meant that something terrifying lurked nearby.
It would take me time to shed many of the survival responses I acquired over the years.
But as the distance closed with my homeworld, the trauma of my incarceration gradually gave way to anxiety about my imminent arrival. What kind of welcome awaited me there? Growing up on Melelyn—the Nazhral homeworld—I’d known too many people who had been arrested and sentenced. Very few ever returned home. The majority died in various painful ways long before they finished serving their sentences. Of those who made it out, many decided to start over elsewhere. And then you had those who, like me, went back to their Prides.
As the majority who did so had sustained grievous injuries, they’d often been turned away by their Matriarchs. After all, what use was a male who could no longer provide or protect?
In my case, I’d done a great job of keeping myself safe. I was in excellent physical shape and had acquired a variety of skills that could make me invaluable to the Pride if they decided to leverage them. This gave me hope that I would be one of the few not to be cast out.
The image of Oluina flashed before my mind’s eye. The old pain that I thought long buried came back to the surface. She had been so beautiful, fierce, and wild that I’d been totally enthralled by her. When she chose me as her companion, I’d been over the moon. So few could brag about having the honor of being picked by the youngest female to ever become Head Huntress of her Pride. We’d been so perfect together that I’d foolishly believed we would become bonded mates, a rare occurrence among my people.
However, she discarded me the moment I got arrested. Growing up, I’d seen plenty of females who continued to write and stay in touch with their incarcerated lover or partner. She never wrote to me once. Worse still, my younger brother informed me that the very day my team and I were thrown in jail, she shacked up with Moriak.
That foul male—eight years older than I was—always saw me as a threat. He made no mystery how much he resented Oluina picking me over him. As she was three years my elder, Moriak believed he was a better match for her as a more mature male instead of the young eighteen-year-old cub that I had been at the time. For that entire year, Moriak abused his power as Alpha of the Pride to multiply the ways to try and get rid of me. I was assigned the most dangerous hunts, and he constantly pushed me to participate in the riskiest missions with the prospect of wealth to further secure my position in the Pride.
As he acted in a similar fashion with all other young males who, like me, sought to be invited into the Pride, I merely took it as a compliment and made it a point to accept every challenge for the pleasure of showing off. I’d been such a fool, blinded by love and ego.
Is he still the Alpha?
At the time of my arrest, I had just turned nineteen, while he was twenty-six. Today, he would be thirty-nine. Very few Alphas remained at the head of a pack that long. On average, they lasted six or seven years before a younger, stronger male ousted them. Then again, the longest record belonged to a male from my birth Pride, Aran Sulwyn, who had served for thirty-one years.
If Moriak was still in power, would he still harass me and make my life difficult, or was I now finally old enough for him to leave me be?
The distressing thought plagued me for the remainder of the journey. Regaining my freedom and returning home should have been the happiest time of my life.
Not this.