ValentineDavis21
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The tea was hot and refreshing, a balm to his sore throat, his raging thirst. It took all of his will not to down the rest in one gulp lest it scald the inside of his mouth. He could feel Xera watching him from across the tent, his four eyes filled with speculation and concern. Ghor also watched him, stationed in his usual corner of the tent, his arms crossed over his chest. Only the rapid tapping of his tail against the canvas wall and the ceaseless racing of his thoughts gave clue to the fact
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When Aethan opened his eyes he was still enclosed in the arms of the felid. Ghor had not loosened his hold or shifted even a little. He rested on his side, facing the Cathesan, the cool front of his snout resting against the back of the Crown Prince’s neck. He could feel something else pressing against him as well = something hard and warm and only separated from his flesh by a thin piece of fabric. Aethan didn’t dare let his mind think about what it was. The Ghrul snored with such force that hi
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The feet were massive, comparable in size to Bhal-Ghor’s hind paws, wide and rectangular shape with two long prongs that served as toes. Since there were only two feet Aethan could surmise that the creature had been bipedal; and judging from the size of it he could also guess that the creature was tall. Maybe as tall if not taller than the felid standing beside him, but probably not as tall as Gromm - but again that was only a guess. He whirled around, searching the shadows while Ghor rema
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Aethan sat in the stillness, in the silence, and listened to the war waging inside his own mind. A wind blew across the flat expanse of desert floor, making the tent walls flutter and flap, a desolate sound that reminded him once more of how alone the expedition team was out here; and yet the wind was a gentle breeze compared to the tidal wave of sand and brutal force that he had experienced earlier. It was because of the object that they were safe. Though he could not see it, he could sense it
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“A ship,” Tarkhon said. He sounded doubtful at first, tilting his head in Aethan’s direction but not taking his eyes off the object. They were all staring at it, transfixed. Then the Kaldari repeated himself again and this time he did not sound doubtful but fascinated. “Yes,” he said. “But if it is a ship it’s not of Threnbody design. It’s not like any design I’ve seen before.” Aethan listened, not sure what he was hoping to hear. He knew that the object let out a signal that could interfer
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The journey through the desert was slow and agonizing. For every ten steps it seemed that Aethan only made five, having to pull his boots free from the ground and shake the sand off before setting them back down again. At first the adrenaline in his system and the need to preserve his own life had given him strength, filling him with a sort of buoyancy - and the keen concentration that came with having a problem to fix. But as the expedition team journeyed deeper into the desert, his strength be
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He could only see the other rover because of the light reflected off the hull. It was impossible to tell how exactly far away it was, but it couldn’t have been more than fifty feet. In the storm it might as well have been a mile or two. And a mile or two could be a long distance when you could barely see your own hand in front of your face; a mile or two in treacherous weather could easily stretch to ten. He looked over his shoulder, wanting to duck back into the safety of the rover. With only t
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I can't tell you how happy that makes me. And no worries on the lengths of the comments, just know that any feedback is appreciated. Particularly on character development, relationship dynamics, any insight you could provide. Even if there's something you don't like. I also just paid for a commission to have a working cover done so you will get to see what the characters are supposed to look like. Over time I will have more commissions done (I would like each arc to have a title card, but that will take time and money.) The next chapter is scheduled to post on the 31st. Thanks again for reading.
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I appreciate your comments. There will be some rocky/tense moments ahead in future arcs, but the worst is behind them. I'm trying to go from enemies, to friends, to lovers. They're working on the friendship stage. Let me ask this: I know things were intense but did things feel realistic in terms of their conflict? Did the transition from fighting to communication feel too quick or was there a satisfying buildup to it? Or was it almost too triggering to read? Just curious for when I do an edit in the future.
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That is good feedback. You will see a change closer to the end of the arc and at the beginning of Arc 3. Let me know if you feel things get better by the end of the arc.
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Aethan was glad to be back on the rover. After seeing the cosmic proportions of the leviathan and entering the indescribable landscape of its mind, it was a comfort to have steel walls between him and the constant wail of the sandstorm. Hoping to have a moment to himself, he went back to the storage room. He wanted nothing more than to get the damn suit off. He had just removed the helmet when the hatch slid open and Bhal-Ghor entered, stooping slightly to fit through the door. The canvas w
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The wind threw the sand against the windshield of the rover with such force it was impossible to see. The rover rocked and bounced over uneven ground. Aethan wondered how Ghor could sleep through such a commotion and then reminded himself that the felid had probably trained himself to sleep through anything. He, on the other hand, could not sleep or sit still. He kept watching the screens. On one of them the object could be seen, rendered in infrared lines, the digits slowly plummeting as the ro
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Aethan tapped at the screen of the data pad, cursing under his breath. The thing was clunky by Cathesan standards, the screen cracked. Lines of static crackled across the screen. The lights above his head flickered dangerously. He could feel the eyes of the newly formed expedition team watching him, waiting for him to begin the roll call. But how could he begin the roll call if he couldn’t access the list of names? He wanted to throw it down on the ground and stomp on it until it was nothing but
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As of 12:18 on the 25th of May, I have just wrapped up Chapter 3.11. I am trying to get my backlog back up a bit. I know I said I would begin posting on the 27th at the latest, but I would like to get 2-3 more chapters done before I do. I would have liked to have gotten more written by now (I was hoping to be at least started on 3.12 at this point) but life has been really busy. College classes have started up and that eats significantly into my writing time. Alas, I'm hoping the wait will be worth it. Arc 3 has a lot going on in it, a lot of spooky stuff is happening, and the Arc will really dig into the history of Kharon-IV. I am excited about the developments this Arc will bring and want to give it the justice it needs. Edit: Ignore this comment
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As of May 19th I would like to note that I will be posting chapters for the third arc either on May 24th or May 27th depending on how much I can get done in between that time. I just finished Chapter 3.9 and am close to the halfway point of Chapter 3.10 if that gives you an idea of where I'm at. I've written 43K so far for Arc 3. In the mean time feel free to comment and let me know what you think of the story. Comments/feedback is always helpful. In particular I would like to know what you think about Aethan and Ghor's relationship (or lack thereof)? What do you think of Aethan and Vaxen? Where would you like to see things go with the story?
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As he crossed the assembly hall towards the lift, Aethan felt his heart plummet. It was not just his own sense of disappointment he felt, but Ghor’s as well. Nor just disappointment but defeat. Almost immediately the Cathesan began to wonder if he had made a mistake. No, he told himself savagely, stepping onto the lift, forcing himself not to look at the felid. You made the right decision. He can’t be trusted. He’s too temperamental, too unpredictable. All the apologies in the world won’t f
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Bhal-Ghor was jarred out of an uneasy sleep by the sound of feet and excited chatter outside of his cell. Hundreds - maybe thousands - of feet. And voices talking excitedly in various alien dialects. He sat up slowly, wincing at the metallic taste in the back of his throat. It had been two days since his argument with Aethan. Two long days and he hadn’t slept well in that time. He was about to stand, to see what was going on when several of the automated guards appeared and the force field
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Bhal-Ghor couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried. He would stretch out on the slab of steel that served as a bed in the cell, his arm curled over his eyes, and try to will his thoughts to stop racing only for the anxious racing of his thoughts to pull him back into a sitting position. Sleep. Sleep was the only way to truly pass the time in between the prison when he wasn’t training for the next match. If he had to guess he’d spent over half of his life sleeping, the other half fighting to st
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Ghor was pacing restlessly from one end of the cell to the other when Aethan returned. His tail was lifted high and the hackles of his fur was raised, his teeth bared in a growl. When he saw the Cathesan he stopped and retreated back from the force field. “You’re back,” he said and the flash of relief Aethan sensed from him was unmistakable. Aethan fought to keep the relief out of his own voice, affecting a careless shrug. He reminded himself that the Felid-Ghrul was no more trustworth
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When the doors to the lift slid open and Aethan stepped out, Vash’s silhouette was standing before the window, facing the crags and canyons of Kharon-IV. As usual his taloned hands were clasped behind his back. The guards stopped, stationing themselves on both sides of the door to the lift, their screens going blank. The Crown Prince paused, willing himself to remain calm. He resisted the urge to reach out with his mind and gauge the warden’s mind, remembering how Vaxen had turned the tides on h
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Aethan laid out the needles, sutures, and can of medical disinfectant spray out on a mat. He frowned at them with displeasure. The instruments were cruder than what he was used to on Cathesan. Had they been in the city of Valanore, Bhal-Ghor would have been stretched out on a bed, his wound cauterized by a laser that would have sealed the wound in a matter of seconds and stopped the bleeding, high on pain killers instead of the floor of a cell. Since there was nothing else at the Cathesan’s disp
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Aethan watched the steady rise and fall of Bhal-Ghor's chest, mesmerized by the brightness of his fur; it seemed to glow within the violet flicker of the force field. Already the euphoric effects of the Estristatmer were starting to wear off and it had only been a few hours. I hate you, he’d told the felid and he had meant it. But hate, like the drug that was flowing out of his system, was a mocking force that could seem like your friend, but in the end was hard to hold onto and exhausted the so
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Neither of them spoke about the incident that had happened back in the corridor outside the washroom or in the observatory as if black wreaths of smoke clouded both scenes. Aethan probed at his memory, trying to recall the lost period of time he'd experienced. The last thing he could recall was standing in front of the window of the observatory, looking out the scorched earth of crags and canyons…and when he came to the sense that time, if only a few seconds or a few minutes, had passed. But the
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Aethan scrubbed at himself furiously with the bar of soap, wanting nothing more than to be back in his cell. At least in his cell he would be safe where no one but Bhal-Ghor could get to him. The felid stood at the opposite end of the room, beneath his own showerhead, watching him with a scowl fixed on his face. The Cathesan could sense his inner conflict, the urge to explain himself, the conflicting urge to say that he didn't need to explain himself, the urge to tell the Crown Prince he didn't
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The guards returned an hour later; this time Vaxen did not accompany them. By the time the guards lowered the force field, Aethan was in the full throes of withdrawal, the effects of the adrenaline shot having left his system. Feverish shivers wracked his body hard enough to make his teeth click together; his silvery hair framed his face, forming matted locks that were tangled together by sweat. When two of the automated guards entered the cell he was curled in a fetal position. Dipping into the
