Page 42 of Chosen By the Dragon Alien

Ellion’s shoulders tensed, his wings shifting slightly. “I do,” he said evenly, though his baritone carried an edge that Cyprian recognized all too well—the sting of shame buried beneath pride. “The Axis controlled my mind, my instincts—my very fire. Like you, I served them without question, not knowing what or who I truly was. My choices were theirs. My freedom stolen before I even understood what it meant to have it.”

Disbelief warred with the anger surging in Cyprian’s chest. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into the mattress. He couldn’t reconcile the careful, watchful male before him with the overseer Fivra had described—the distant figure who had enforced the Axis’ laws with cold efficiency.

Ellion leaned forward. “When we brought you into the fortress, you were depleted and wounded. Do you know why the Axis found you so easily?”

Cyprian stiffened as he recalled Xryvos’ words on the moon’s surface. “I was tracked.” He shook his head sharply, frustration curling through him as the lingering fatigue tugged at his mind. “An implant, that Axis inspector said.”

Ellion rose from his seat and stepped closer, moving with the careful grace of a predator who knew the strength of his presence. Slowly, he reached out, palm upwards. In the center of it was a small, metal cylindrical object. “Before you woke, we found this and disabled it.”

Cyprian stared at the thing with dread. “That was in my head?”

“Yes,” Ellion began, his voice low but resonant. “These are small, easily concealed, and not detectable without specific tools. It allowed the Axis to track you. Every movement, every breath you took, they knew where you were.”

Cyprian’s silver eyes narrowed, his breathing deepening as the weight of Ellion’s words bore down on him. His claws flexed again, digging into his thighs as a low rumble stirred within his chest. “You removed it?” he rasped, his mind racing at the thought of something so invasive—so violating—within his own body.

Ellion nodded, his wings folding tighter against his back. “These devices are their leash, their chain. Without it, they lose their ability to find you, to summon you back into their fold. You’re free from their watch now, Cyprian.”

The words should have brought him relief, but instead, a deep rage burned in his chest. Free? Was he ever free? He raised a hand to the base of his own neck, fingers trembling as they traced the scales there and felt a raised line where an incision was healing. The idea that such an implant had been in his body. That his movements, his very existence, had been monitored—ignited a fire as hot as his dragon flames.

Ellion turned slightly, exposing the back of his neck with a deliberate motion. He brushed back his hair and exposed a scar etched into the flesh. The mark pulsed faintly, a reminder of something both invasive and insidious. “I had an implant, too, but it did far more than track me.”

Cyprian’s mouth went dry. “What did it do?”

Ellion’s voice was calm but weighted, as if the truth were hard even for him to share. “For those of us the Axis deem unruly, the implants do more than simple tracking. They are a means of control. A way of ensuring obedience.”

Cyprian’s silver eyes snapped up, a growl rumbling low in his throat. “Control? How?”

Ellion’s jaw tightened. “They tamper with memory. Every act of defiance, every flicker of our will, is erased. They wipe away the fire before it can roar. I lost years—many cycles—to their…adjustments. They turned me into their puppet, stripped me of any autonomy. I’d wake knowing only what they wanted me to know. Believing their lies about loyalty, purpose, and obligation.”

The words hit Cyprian like a boulder crushing his chest. A memory flickered unbidden to the surface—one he hadn’t considered in centuries. The strange fog he often felt during his early days in Erovik, periods of blankness where moments escaped him, where he’d awaken unsure of what time had passed or why certain orders felt ingrained, unshakable. He’d brushed them off as the price of efficiency, the strange ways of the Axis’ rigorous structure. But now…

“They did that to me,” he whispered, his voice raw. His hand clenched at the base of his neck, searching, desperate to find something—anything—that explained the blank spaces and his loyalty to an empire he hated. “All this time…”

Ellion’s gaze softened, a flicker of recognition sparking in his silver eyes. “Perhaps not as severely as they did to me,” he said, stepping closer again. “You were valued differently. You weren’t seen as a risk until now. Perhaps they allowed you more freedom because you had a role they believed demanded civility—a director, civilized and polished. A Zaruxian mirage they could use to appease their elite clients. But make no mistake, Cyprian,they left you just enough leash to fulfill their needs. You were never free. None of us were.”

Cyprian’s pulse thundered in his veins as Ellion’s words crawled through him like venomous spiders. His wings twitched against the bedding. Fivra was quiet and watchful beside him. Her hand was a soft reminder of what was important. Of what he would do anything to protect.

“It’s okay, Cyprian,” she said. “You didn’t have a choice. None of us did.”

But they had taken his life—his choices—and molded it to their whims. Every sharp-edged memory that didn’t quite fit, every unexplained pause in his mind—they weren’t design flaws in his memory or character. They were deliberate manipulations.

And he had allowed it by obeying.Fek.

“Why didn’t I—why couldn’t I realize?” Cyprian growled. The weight of it all pressed down on his chest. “The…loyalty to a place I never questioned. If I’d known—”

“They insured you didn’t,” Ellion said softly. His hand rested briefly on Cyprian’s arm, a gesture that was surprisingly grounding. “I believe the only reason you saw the cracks—felt the edges of your cage—is because of her.” He lifted his head to glance at Fivra.

Cyprian turned his head to meet Fivra’s gaze. Her aqua eyes were soft and unwavering under the weight of what Ellion was suggesting. Even with all the chaos that had led them here—with the revelations hanging in the air like a charged cloud—she hadn’t faltered. She held his gaze like a lifeline.

Fivra pressed her lips together. She crouched closer, her body barely brushing against his side as though hoping her touch alone could anchor him. “Ellion and Turi told me that bonds like ours ignite something even the Axis can’t control. They didn’t account for love.”

Cyprian’s chest tightened as Ellion stepped back, giving him the space to process his words. The room seemed to press inward. Fivra’s hand was still warm against his arm—a touch that tethered to reality.

Ellion’s silver eyes glinted sharply. He clasped his hands behind his back, his wings folding with smooth precision as he spoke. “Cyprian, I believe we are not alone. You and I are only two. There are more Zaruxians still under Axis control, and Terian females who were sold in that auction. They’re scattered across penal colonies, stations, or other cloaked operations, but they are out there—trapped in the same chains that once bound us.”

Cyprian inhaled sharply. His fire surged at the idea of others like him, others unaware of what had been stolen from them. The Axis had molded those like him into instruments of power, but what would happen if those instruments ripped apart the hand that wielded them?

“You’re certain?” he asked, his voice calmer now but edged with skepticism. “How many others are there? And what makes you think they’re not broken beyond saving?”

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