Page 40 of Owned By the Hvrok

She pulled against the restraints—futile, desperate.

Her voice cracked as she cried out again, “Please… someone…”

But there was no one.

Just the tremble of the ship.

And the sickening knowledge that she had no control at all.

CHAPTER 24

TheLyxaiwas dying.

Smoke hissed from a cracked console as Kyhin wrestled with the controls, his armored hands flying over the interface, rerouting systems that were collapsing faster than he could stabilize them. The cockpit lights flickered and surged in violent bursts, casting jagged shadows over the curved black metal.

Outside, Anakris filled the viewport: looming, massive, hostile. Its thick atmosphere churned with violet and grey storm clouds, and below, the land was a cracked, volcanic maze of ash-black stone and jagged mountains. The red sun was sinking fast, its last angry light bleeding across the sky like the end of a war.

The holo screamed warnings: structural failure, engine core breach, atmospheric re-entry too steep.

He ignored them all.

The right engine was aflame. Plasma residue had eaten through the primary shield array. Emergency thrusters sputtered, then failed altogether.

He couldfeelthe ship slipping from his control.

He growled, deep and low, locking the auxiliary dampeners and kicking the stabilizers into override. It jolted the ship hard,metal groaning, lights flaring, everything shaking as though the vessel itself was trying to tear apart in midair.

Too fast. Too hot. Too low.

He fired the reverse thrusters—nothing.

“Eject,” he barked, slamming the emergency command.

With a deafeningcrack, the burning engine detached, spiraling in a trail of fire. Seconds later, it exploded high above the atmosphere, a burst of light and debris that momentarily lit up the sky like a second sun.

Even without the failing engine, the descent was brutal.

They clipped the edge of a mountain, tearing through rock, ripping hull plating in a scream of metal. Sparks and smoke filled the cockpit. The ship pitched hard to the side—Kyhin slammed against the seat restraints as alarms wailed through his helm.

He gritted his teeth and dragged theLyxaiback under control, pulling her nose up with a force that strained the entire frame.

Outside, the terrain rushed up at them—black cliffs, narrow ravines, sharp stone spires reaching like claws.

There was no time to think.

Onlyact.

He rotated the ship into a controlled spin—blades of stone shearing along the hull—and aimed for the flattest surface he could find: a rocky basin wedged between two cliffs. He lowered landing struts manually, half-melted mechanisms groaning in protest.

And then—impact.

The ship slammed into the ground with bone-shattering force, skidding, dragging, and bucking against the earth. Metal screamed. Fire burst from a ruptured panel. One of the forward struts snapped, and the entire vessel listed hard to the side, almost flipping.

But it held.

Barely.

Smoke curled into the cockpit. Systems went dark.

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