Page 8 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
Paviok is already there, arms folded, perched on a crate like he’s been waiting for me.
“It’s done, then?” he snaps. “You finally got it out of your system?”
“Master?”
“For cycles, you’ve been thinking with your dick instead of your brain. I let it slide—youth and all that. But now that it’s over, it’s time to get back to what matters. Kick her out. Training resumes immediately.”
“You want me to wake her? Escort her home?”
I shouldn’t be surprised. Paviok was never one for tenderness. He’s the hard hand that keeps the southern sectors of Srebat under control. Always firm. Always brutal. That’s the price of order, he says. Without it, there’s only chaos.
He’s cruel—but never dishonest. Never once lied to me. And as a Srebat, I’d know if he had.
We’re built to detect falsehoods. A lie triggers a different part of the brain—it’s imaginative, ungrounded. The truth echoes in memory and experience. Srebats feel that difference. We sense the tremor in the voice, the bitter tinge in the breath.
And Paviok? Never once lied. Twisted truths, sure. But never fabricated.
“I don’t want you to walk her home,” he continues. “I want her gone. Out of our sector. She doesn’t come back. Ever.”
“But, Master—”
“Noviosk.” His voice sharpens. “What have I taught you? This world is cruel. Only the strong survive. I raised you to replace me—to lead. And now you’re letting a girl soften you?”
He says it like it’s a disease. Like love is rot. And maybe, in our world, it is.
“She’s your test,” he growls. “Pass it.”
I say nothing. There’s no argument to win here.
I return to the room. Danayat still sleeps, curled in warmth, skin glowing in the dim light. My chest tightens.
“Danayat,” I whisper. “You need to get up. You have to leave. Now.”
She groans. “Nov… let me rest a little. My legs barely work. You were… intense.”
Her words should fill me with pride—but dread creeps in. Paviok won’t wait long.
Right on cue, he barges in.
Danayat bolts upright, clutching the sheet. Her golden eyes wide, confused.
Then a thin crimson line blooms across her throat.
She doesn’t understand. Neither do I.
Paviok stands beside me, holding a bloodstained blade.
“There,” he says. “No more distractions. She’d have weakened you, son. You’ll thank me someday.”
No hesitation. No regret.
And as the light fades from her eyes, a locked door deep inside me cracks open.
Flashback – Thirteen Cycles Ago
Screams wake me. My father bursts into our room.
“Bartiosk! Take your siblings. Paviok’s attacking with his men. I’ll try to talk him down!”
