Page 90 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol. 1
“A scorching wind swept across the atolls, killing everything in its path. At the time, I was bathing in a giant flower—one of those with thick, waxy petals. When I got the emergency signal, I buried myself under as many petals as I could.”
“That’s how you survived,” she whispers, understanding dawning in her eyes.
I nod. “Exactly. Everyone else died instantly. I was trapped in that boiling water for hours. I prayed for death to come and end the pain. That’s why I struggle to let go now. My body remembers. Every nerve remembers.”
I pause again, then add, “It was Rymm—Silmarwen’s companion—who came back for me. He carried me to a regeneration chamber.”
“That’s why there’s no trace of it left,” she says gently. “I’m glad you didn’t die that day.”
“The chamber healed my body,” I say. “But my soul… my soul is still broken.”
She looks at me with quiet understanding. “Now I get why you told Noviosk no one was waiting for you on Asgarne. They’re all gone.”
“My family died. So did many others. But not all. Some atolls were spared. I would never betray mypeople—not for anything. Not for the Coalition’s greed.”
I glance at her, then soften my voice.
“Now get some sleep. You need rest before we leave.”
My voice is hoarse from the pain. Bringing this up now was a mistake. I need to stay calm—focused. But instead, I’m reliving the worst day of my life, and it’s tearing me apart inside.
And with just a few hours left before our planned escape… the pressure’s building. I can feel it in my chest, tight and unrelenting. I’m stressed. Really stressed.
A few hours later, I’m standing in front of the bay window, scanning the darkness outside. Nothing. No moon tonight. The waves are still, quiet. Too quiet.
I remember reading that underwater predators tend to hunt at night. That’s why I’m planning to leave at sunrise.
I’m not a hundred percent sure this will work—but I’m going to do everything I can to get us out of here. Staying in Noviosk’s hands?
That’s a death sentence.
Chapter 24.
Ileana.
I'm lying on the bed, watching Pherebos as he stands in front of the bay window. He’s been lost in thought for what feels like forever—silent, tense. I want to go to him, to tell him he’s not to blame, that he doesn’t have to carry all that guilt. But I can’t bring myself to move.
The story he told me… it’s horrifying. The pain he went through—it’s more than I can wrap my head around.
And yet, I feel relief. Because now I know: Pherebos is exactly who I believed he was. A good man. Maybe he made a mistake that cost his loved ones their lives. Or maybe it was his sister, Silmarwen. I don’t know. But it doesn’t change how I see him.
Time slips by—minutes, maybe hours—until he gently shakes me awake.
“Ileana, it’s time. Daylight’s not far off.”
I drag myself out of bed, feeling like I just closed my eyes. After days of sleeping on the filthy floor of a cage, the one night I get a real bed is also the night I have toleave it behind to run for my life. Typical. Life really knows how to kick you when you’re down.
Pherebos slings his bag over his left shoulder, positioning it so he can reach into it without taking it off. Then he pulls out a thick pencil and starts drawing on the bay window.
I stare at him, completely baffled. What the hell is he doing?
“Here,” he says, handing me a small flask. “Open this and rub the oil all over your skin. We don’t have much time.”
I pop the lid open—and immediately gag. The smell is awful, like something that’s been rotting in the sun for days.
“Pherebos? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“I’m dead serious,” he replies, calm and focused. “Let’s do this. I’ve got an enzyme marker—it’ll eat through the polymer on the bay window. Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes before the panel comes loose and gives us a way out.”
