Page 33 of Returned to the Vissigroth
Daphne still seemed confused, and my heart went out to her. Before I could explain, she asserted, "I'm still confused. Are you saying you and the other males are hundreds of thousands of rotations old?"
Zavahr chuckled. "Ney. I'm sorry, Vissy Daphne, I'm not explaining this right, and I'm way ahead of myself. Allow me to clarify. My ancestors lived inside the cave for hundreds of thousands of rotations. My generation and I are the first ever to see the light of the sun again. To travel outside."
Daphne's expression turned sympathetic, "I'm sorry, that must have been… incredibly hard."
"Thank you, Vissy. We didn't know any better. I feel sorry for all the males before me, who never knew…" he drifted off, saddened.
"Males? Wait." Daphne shook her head, and I realized her problem.
I cut in. " Sirens kept the Zuten locked up inside that cave. They kept their identity hidden for all these rotations."
Understanding bloomed on her face. She must have known that Sirens were only females. Incredibly beautiful creatures. But as beautiful as they were on the outside, they were just as rotten on the inside. They kept the Zuten males as breeders for theiroffspring. Seffies were taken in by the Sirens, and males were given to the Zuten to raise as the next generation of sperm donors.
"Had Niara not realized that Vissigroth Myles' main city was built next to an active volcano… disaster could have struck at any time, and nobody would have ever found the Zuten." I filled her in on the last piece of the puzzle.
I left out all the gory details. How the Crymphten had planned an attack on Oceanus to weaken us, how the Sirens took Myles hostage, and Niara freed him. And most of all, I left out that our Thalia gave birth on Oceanus to our granddaughter, Zara.
"Alright, are we done with the history lesson?" Kavryn cut in, and I threw him a scalding glare.
Before I could voice my displeasure with him or cut him down a few measures, Daphne put a beseeching hand on my arm, as if she sensed I was about to explode. It was a gesture so like her, a gesture she had given me far too many times to count. It hurt and felt incredibly soothing at the same time. "You're right, my apologies, Kavryn. But please bear with me." She turned to Zavahr, "I'm intrigued. Please continue. From what I gathered, the Zuten lived on Oceanus, or Sorintos, as you called it, zyn?" She waited for Zavahr to nod. "So them having been living here on Leander is a surprise?"
"Zyn," Zavahr nodded. He pointed at the box again. "The writing on here, it's definitely Zuten. This box was used to adjust the climate and lights in this place."
I strode toward the askew screen on the wall. "Has this given any information? It looks like a giant palmtop."
Zavahr shook his head, "We were leaving everything as we found it, we wanted Susseray Myc?—"
A static noise coming from Kavryn's palmtop stopped him. Kavryn answered, his expression turned enigmatic as he nodded. "We're ready for him." And then to us, "Our susserayn has arrived."
My gaze moved automatically to Daphne, who tensed. A whisper escaped her, "Myccael."
The name rolled off her lips like something sacred. Something… intimate. And it twisted in my chest like a blade I hadn’t seen coming. Of course he was coming. This was his project. His territory. His magrail cutting through the bones of a world we didn't even know had existed. The entire excavation pulsed with danger and meaning, and Myccael would never miss a chance to stand at the center of it.
But all I could think about was Daphne.
Would she die again, once she delivered her message?
The thought sent a cold spike through me, slicing past flesh and bone, right into whatever fragile hope I’d been holding onto since she was returned to me. Because Grandyr hadn’t just given her back—he’d sent her with a purpose. And once that purpose was fulfilled…
Gods. Ney.
That couldn’t happen.
I wouldn’t allow it.
But what if it wasn’t my choice?
She stood beside me now, her fingers curled near the hem of her tunic, her face pale but resolute as she watched Kavryn bark orders to the workers and signal the lift for Myccael’s arrival. Her eyes were locked on the passage, but her thoughts were far away. I knew her well enough, knew the stillness of her body was anything but peace. It was dread. It was memory pressing at the edges of her soul, desperate to be let in.
I wanted to pull her away. Steal a nicta and vanish into the mountains with her, back to Hoerst, or somewhere the gods couldn’t find us. But that was foolishness. She wouldn’t come, not without finishing what she started. And I loved her too much to make her choose.
So I stood there, anchored to the spot by duty and by fear. I could already hear the distant echo of boots approaching. Leander dragoons in perfect formation. Protocol and power wrapped in black and steel. His procession was moving fast, efficient as always.
Then, he appeared.
Myccael.
He stepped through the passage flanked by his elite, his black and silver armor gleaming under the artificial lights, his long coat sweeping behind him. He moved with the kind of grace that only came from complete control, over himself, over others, over fate. He was taller than I remembered. Sharper. Hardened into a blade of command. His eyes scanned the room the way a king might survey a battlefield. Dispassionate. Exacting.
