ValentineDavis21

I'm finally glad someone is able to sympathize with Aethan a little bit. You will see that tension between them continues to ebb and flow throughout Arc 3 and leads into some dark/difficult territory. As the writer I didn't want Aethan to just be a victim of abuse or Ghor the abuser. It's a lot more nuanced than that. There have been some comments where Aethan has been accused of being morally superior or cruel when really he is the first person to ever stand up to Ghor and become the catalyst for change. But in the end they are really just chemically reacting to their environment which changes and is as unpredictable as the planet itself. Thank you for reading and for your comments.

Ghor’s ears twitched as the fans inside the Halo began to spin into life, the device switching on with a low hum. Characters and shapes materialized, but they might as well have been from a different language since the felid could not make out what they were. He took assurance in the fact that Xera seemed to have relaxed now that the Kaldari was back in his element; if there was reason to be nervous the horned alien would have been more tense. The Kaldari leaned forward, his narrow frame blockin

Aethan slept heavily through the next seventy-two hours but it was in no way a restful sleep. He moaned and rocked in his sleep, kicking the blankets off, sometimes clawing at the air. When he did this he remained completely unaware, lost in the memories of the child who had begun to materialize more and more in his mind. These experiences did not manifest instantly, but grew in stages in peaks the same way a fever did, with occasional pauses and plateaus. The images that fueled this fits were g

It only escalates from here...

Aethan's first thought upon seeing the camp was that they were still on the ship. And why not? It didn't seem entirely unreasonable to think so. In the eight hours it had taken Ghor and he to travel to the command deck and back they had seen the ship commit many terrifying but awe-inspiring acts of creation: the aberrations, the shifting of walls and ceiling, countless alterations, breaches in reality. With these facts in mind it did not seem entirely impossible that the ship could have fabricat

His skin crawled, breaking out into hives that trailed up his arms; the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A cold finger traced its way teasingly down his spine. He could sense the things watching him in the dark like predators hiding out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. These were not the mindless creations of the dark gods he and Ghor had encountered earlier throughout the ship…they were more cautious, more calculated. Like a supercomputer that learns as it is fed m

"I know you will…Illyrion…” Aethan's reaction to these words was immediate and startling: He stepped back with a small gasp, seeming to sway for a moment. Ghor tensed, ready to intercept, sure that he would fall. When Aethan straightened, Ghor halted, pausing at his side, one paw tucked close to his side, the other unfurled, claws ready to strike at the first sign of danger from the Vrevil. All this was done before he had fully, consciously made the decision to do so, his instinct

Every step was a private testament of will, strength, and determination made greater by the fact that his mind was no longer his own. In their terror the voices in his head had grown into a panicked clamor, reminding him during the press conferences back on Cathesan, when he'd glimpsed the seemingly random outbursts of violence, his own people pushing and shoving and trampling over each other while Vash and the security detail ushered him away. Only this was happening in his mind. The time dilat

Lol, I'm glad that you enjoy it

Crowe backed away instinctively from the aberration, his blood turning to ice. For a moment he was back in the aberrant corridor with the last horrific construction Bhal-Ghor and he had encountered, only this..this was far worse. Because he now recognized the face of the creature that was staggering drunkenly towards him, its long arms swinging awkwardly, its bare two pronged feet scraping against the floor, its mouth gaping open, moaning in misery. It had the bulbous head and lithe build of a V

Illyrion. There was that name again. It was a mistake. It had to be. Every time he heard it, it seemed that every cell in his body cried out in superstitious terror, as if it were the name of the creature that hid under his bed. And every child, no matter their age, race, or religion had one of those. But the souls stored inside his mind did not balk in terror. He could see them as they had been right before death, their heads bowed in prayer, their hands raised in the air as they began to chant

For a moment he stopped, one foot placed in the command deck, the other set firmly on the floor of the secret chamber. He looked back over his shoulder at the chair and for an instant that made his head hurt, Aethan was seeing the room as he’d viewed it in the video. The shades who congregated together were no longer made of shadow, but wore the same strange bio-material that Hiernymus’s robes were made of, their heads bent in solemn prayer. Not for the first time Aethan had the sense that he wa

Aethan felt as if all his limbs weighed a ton, so heavy they were impossible to lift. The mere task of lifting his foot and setting it back down was monumental, a simple impulse turned into a life-or-death battle. A powerful wind had picked up, blowing through this section of the command deck, stinking of rot and black poison. It rustled his hair, blowing it back from his sweaty straining face, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused not on the hole between realities but on Ghor who was in more dange

Spasms of fear wracked up and down Ghor's spine, making it impossible to relax. No matter how much he told himself he needed to be alert for the little lordling, the fear hung around him like a toxic black cloud, made blacker by the gloom around them. The shadows seemed to creep around them, closing in, wanting to spill over them and bury them under a tide of doom, held only at bay by the dome of Aethan's light and the glow of his skin and hair. Just when Ghor would start to relax, he woul

Aethan could feel another presence taking root in his mind, another passenger completely different from Hiernymus. The cleric was still there, the Cathesan could sense him as well, but he had been curiously quiet, a watcher biding his time. This presence was different, smaller, younger, with a voice that rang with both fear and innocence, searching the shadowed corners for the monsters it might contain. The eyes and voice of a child. That child had just used his mouth to speak, to warn Bhal-Ghor

As they entered the stygian darkness of the ship, it occurred to Aethan that he was being manipulated. While this thought had passed through his mind before, this time it landed with weight and stuck. He knew that when it came to the interest of the ship, there were two parties who seemed to have a hand in its discovery. There were the Vrevil who had left the message as both a warning and a calling, a calling that seemed to be specifically for him so that the ship could be discovered in th

I would also like to say there might be a little bit of projecting on my part. I've been in these types of relationships and I think anyone with enough common sense would read this and say these two have a very toxic dynamic. In my past experiences any time I tried to speak up for myself only made the situation worse and was met with understandable resistance. But it's also frustrating when you try to fend for yourself and it just blows up in your face or leads to consequences you regret in the future. Maybe it's quite self indulgent, but with fiction you can strip that away and say "well Aethan gets to make a jab and it actually has an impact on their relationship" or something stupid like that. Maybe that says more about me as a person, but it also brings a sense of empowerment when there's little power to be found at least in the current setting of this story.

As always thank you for the comment. When I wrote this scene I was coming at it from the perspective that for Ghor he has had a week of time to think about things and reflect where for Aethan only a few hours have passed so for him it is very raw. Maybe I didn't state that and might go back and add a sentence or two to convey that if it is necessary. They definitely have barriers that they put up in front of each other and I feel that they are in the beginning stages of taking those barriers down but there's a lot of setbacks and regressions that happen with that. Not trying to fend for myself or be one of those people who can't take feedback, just trying to get the most out of this conversation that I can if that makes sense.

Ghor did not sleep that night. While he was no longer close to death, he did not feel well. Aethan's words had done more damage than any attack in the arena, words that burrowed into his brain like hot needles. They haunted him, echoing in his mind even as he slipped into a semi doze, sitting on the sand dune in front of the ship, the vigil he had claimed. He no longer thought the ship was a deity whose sole intent was to make his life miserable. It was just a ship, mysterious and dangerous, but

Thank you so much. This is a very helpful detail. The funny thing is I looked it up as well before writing the part where Aethan calls Bhal-Ghor a masochist. A thought that also crosses mind for when I do an edit is that I wish I knew another word to use. These characters are aliens with a different culture and language from ours so they might not use the word "sadist", because isn't that based on Satan? A couple of things: I know the last several chapters have been tense and miserable, but they get better after this...for a time. I will also say that things in the story, particularly after the Kharon-IV arc, things will not always be this intense, but I'm also developing a romantic relationship that spans a 1000 years and this is kind of the prequel to the main story. If my plans work right, this chronicle will be a 5-6 act story (split into shorter arcs) with the first 2 serving as set up for Aethan's Reign and Aethan and Bhal Ghor's marriage. I hope that's not too spoilery. Also it might be a few days before I publish another chapter. I have Chapter 3.22 done and am approaching the halfway mark of 3.23.er I have a final due on the 29th that I need to start working on, so I apologize for the wait. Also I know this has been a long arc with longer chapters, but I have to say this has been a blast to write. I don't mean that in terms of skill or anything like that, but kind of like Stephen King said "The story writes itself" and gayauthors for better or worse has always been my writing pad. Still I hope the pacing has been alright, that the reveals have felt earned and that the story at least feels like I at least have some idea of where this is going. Thanks for reading.

By the time Bhal-Ghor stumbled into Aethan's tent, the Cathesan was resting in bed, his head propped up on a stack of pillows. His face was drained of color and the lids of his eyes were bruised. Ghor had never seen him look so close to death. He hovered in the doorway of the tent, unable to move, tormented by emotions for which he had no name. It felt as if time within the boundaries of the tent had slowed, dilated much like time within the ship, unreality spreading through him waves. Tar

For the expedition team they had only been on the ship for a few hours. In the camp time ran differently. For Bhal-Ghor it took them over a week to return. For the first three days he sat avidly in front of the ship, watching it, hardly blinking, hardly remembering to eat or drink unless his body told him it was absolutely imperative. He had no idea of how long he would have to wait, only that he must. Even if it meant they never returned. Eventually the way would open again, hopefully before he

A face appeared on the screen, out of focus at first, blotted out by a dancing field of static that quickly faded as the camera adjusted. Aethan recognized the large bulbous head and the hard chassis of its jawline. While it was not the face of the cleric who stared back at him, it was of a similar make. The face of a Vrevil, what had once been the native species of this planet. This Vrevil was not as broad in the forehead or cheeks, did not possess the air of wisdom and mysticism that his cleri

For his part Aethan did not hear Bhal-Ghor call his name, did not know that the Ghrul had gone through such efforts to reach him. Once again he was back under the spell of the ship, traveling towards a distant point that had only made vague gestures in revealing itself. The answers were still waiting for them on the ship, had been waiting for them this whole time. Waiting for us to make the discoveries and uncover the truth, he thought. It did not cross his mind to think that he had given up hop

Time from that moment seemed to turn to liquid spreading around him. One could easily think that the time dilation effects surrounding the ship might have spread throughout the camp. It was really the oily transition of sliding from sleep into wakefulness and back again, forcing strength back into a body that had been pushed to the point of overload. There are consequences to sharing your mind and body with an alien priest, he thought. He would surface long enough to swallow a few gulps of water