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Jo’Nay 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.”

Winn stepped forward, her voice trembling but resolute. “Because he is not just a warrior. He is compassionate and honorable. He gave me hope when I had none. How could I not love him?”

The councilor’s tone grew sharper. “And that hope now threatens the harmony of our existence.”

Elara turned away from the feed, focusing on Zar’Ryn. “I agree. What about hope? Isn’t that what you gave me?”

“No,” Zar’Ryn snapped, his tone cutting. “Do not mistake my actions. Ihave given you nothing but your freedom. The bond forces this connection between us. It is not my choice.”

Elara’s hands clenched into fists. “Don’t you get it? They’re blaming Jo’Nay for wanting what any living being deserves—achance to live, to love.”

Zar’Ryn’s expression turned unreadable. “He challenges the foundation of our laws. That cannot go unanswered.”

Turning away from her, he continued the feed as Jo’Nay faced the council. “The Final Flight demands every warrior’s death at the age of four hundred. Alaw upheld without question, without reason, without mercy. Tell me, councilors, why must we die?”

The chamber fell silent, the question hanging like a blade poised to strike. Elara’s chest tightened as she watched. Jo’Nay pressed on, his voice growing louder. “You claim it is for balance.For renewal. But that is a lie. You fear us. You fear what we might become if allowed to live beyond our service.”

The council erupted into murmurs, but Jo’Nay’s voice cut through the noise. “We are not your tools. We are not expendable. We are warriors, yes, but we are also individuals. We have given you everything. And we deserve more than death in return.”

The projection ended, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Elara stared at the empty space where it had been, her thoughts racing. “This is barbaric. He saved her, and now they’re punishing him for it?”

Zar’Ryn turned away, his voice low. “It is justice.”

“For who?” she demanded, her frustration boiling over. “He didn’t hurt anyone. He broke some outdated rule, and now his life is ruined. How is that justice?”

His fists clenched, his words sharp. “Because without the code, we are nothing. The galaxy needs Warriors who can act without hesitation, without attachments.”

His words cut deeper than she expected. She stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself. “But you still chose to save me. Was that the bond too? Or was it you?”

He hesitated, his expression indecipherable. “It does not matter. The code remains.”

Elara’s temper flared. “The code! That’s all you care about. Not Jo’Nay, not Winn, not us. Just rules written by people too afraid to live. And yet, you broke the code too. You ate the apples. You chose to survive. Does that make you nothing now?”

Zar’Ryn stiffened, his voice cold. “Those rules have kept the galaxy in balance for millennia,” he replied, ignoring her question. “I will not be the one to unravel it.”

“Then you’re no better than the council,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “Blind to what really matters.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, the bond between them thrumming with unspoken tension. Elara turned away first, heading for the door. “If you can’t see that there’s more to life than the code, then maybe you’re right. You’re nothing without it.”

She left the room, leaving Zar’Ryn alone with the hologram’s faint glow and the heavy weight of his own convictions.

ZAR’RYNremained rooted in place as the door slid shut behind her, the finality of her words reverberating in the silence. He clenched his fists, the familiar discipline that had guided him for centuries now at war with the invasive emotions coursing through the bond. It was an impossible pull—her words, her defiance—they lingered, eroding the foundations of his beliefs.

The hologram flickered, repeating the councilor’s stern decree. “Compassion without control leads to chaos. The code exists to maintain the galaxy’s stability.”

Zar’Ryn turned the feed off abruptly, his breath uneven. Stability. Control. The words once carried clarity, but now they felt hollow, overshadowed by the chaotic draw of the woman whose presence he couldn’t escape. He pressed his palm tothe console, bowing his head. The weight of the galaxy’s expectations pressed heavily on his shoulders, but so did the searing pull of the bond he couldn’t sever.

IN HER QUARTERS, Elara paced, her heart racing as tears threatened to spill. She hated herself for caring so much about his approval, for needing him to see beyond the rigid rules that shackled him. The bond only made things worse, amplifying emotions that felt like a betrayal of her own independence.

She stopped and pressed a hand to her chest, forcing herself to breathe. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “Not if he won’t fight for us.”

The bracelet on her wrist glowed faintly, areminder that no matter how much she wanted to pull away, the bond had other plans. She clenched her fist, frustration and longing warring within her. Zar’Ryn might choose the code over her, but she couldn’t afford to give up so easily—not on him, and not on herself.

Chapter 8

ZAR’RYN READthe incoming message three times, each repetition deepening the tension coiling in his chest. The encrypted text glowed faintly on the screen of his ship’s console, its meaning as clear as it was troubling.

Jo’Nay wanted them to meet at a remote research station—hidden deep within the swirling chaos of a nebula surrounded by razor-sharp asteroid fields. The coordinates and the urgency of the tone left no room for refusal. But what unsettled him most was Jo’Nay’s cryptic promise:“Answers await you, but not without a cost.”

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