ValentineDavis21
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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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3.1: The Ghosts of Kharon-IV
ValentineDavis21 posted new chapter in Aethan's Reign (returns 11/02/27)
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 -
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
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The Caethsan was gone. Bhal-Ghor could only watch helplessly as his new cellmate was consumed by the jaws of the Tyrannus. Gone in the blink of an eye. Dead. There was no recovery from such a thing. When falling into the belly of the beast death was absolute. And he was stuck, trapped inside a crack inside a rock wall. In pain, unable to move. For the second time in a week the tables had been turned on him. The first time Aethan had filled him with thoughts and memories that were not his ow
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Something moved in the dark, gone before Aethan could see what it truly was. It could have been a tentacle or it could have been a wing - it could have been anything. He didn’t try to reach out with his mind. He was already overwhelmed by the thoughts and emotions of the crowds. Everyone was waiting with bated breath. What would come through the gate? What would the Cathesan and the Felid Ghrul be facing? He risked a quick sideways glance at Bhal-Ghor and felt an alarm claxon go off in his head.
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Aethan and Ghor did not speak, did not look at each other for the next few hours. It was as if the conversation with Vaxen and the inevitability of the next match had taken what little ardor they had left in them. In spite of his discomfort and the silent wish for death, a thousand thoughts and questions raced incessantly through his mind. The question at the top of his mind reigned supremely: Why hadn't the felid warrior followed Vaxen's order, done what was best for himself in order to su
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Thank you for the support. Glad you are enjoying the story.
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I should be dead, Aethan thought, resting his head against the rock wall. He watched the steady rise and fall of Bhal-Ghor's chest, knowing that the felid would wake up eventually, and kill him. That was why Vaxen had put him in the prisoner’s cell. I should have died long before that. I should have died on Caethsan. The only reason why I didn't was because of Vash…otherwise I never would have survived without him. And there was the emergency shuttle. Balhice could have killed me then and there
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Bhal-Ghor paced restlessly from one end of his cell to the next. Given the narrow confines of the cell and the broadness of his shoulders there wasn't a lot of room to move around in. It was always like this moments before a battle: thoughts racing in a thousand directions, muscles tensing and untensing, hackles raised, tail swaying from side to side, blood hot and thick in his veins. I’ve been stuck on this rock for the last two centuries…it's practically the only thing I can remember now: figh
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The lights of the arena were far brighter than how they had appeared in his head. He stepped out onto a shelf made of oxidized iron that brushed the gap between the platform and the stage of the arena. Aethan peered over the edge of the shelf and felt his stomach clench: he found himself staring down a hundred foot ledge that ended with jagged rocks at the bottom. He drew back, his fingers tightening around the shaft of his spear. Through the blinding halos of light he could hear the buzzing mur
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Aethan wasn't sure how long he’d slept before the cramps started to seize him. At first they started in his thighs, muscles coiling and knotting like wires pulled taut, curling his toes. He tried to stretch to work out the kinks only for a fresh wave of spasms to ripple up his abdomen, forcing the breath from his lungs in a silent scream. Cold, oily sweat broke out across his forehead. The cramped confines of the cell felt icy. The wall of resistance that he had built to block the psychic feedba
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The first thing that Aethan became aware of was that he was cold and in pain. He laid on a flat, cold surface, curled into a fetal position. His skin burned from a chill that seemed to come straight from his bones. Cramps wrapped his body, the muscles in his stomach and thighs tightening, his nerves firing. He tried to scream but his voice caught in his throat. Blinding light seared his eyes. Gradually he became aware that he was not alone. Voice is pressed in on him from all sides, d
