How else should he explain Kira’s belief Finn would let her go gallivanting off with some mysterious stranger whose face he couldn’t even see? One who’d already made threats against Finn’s life. Not to mention Kira’s.

Did Kira not know him at all by now? Given her propensity for abandoning him whenever she felt his presence inconvenient, he was starting to think that was the case.

“Mea’Ave take me. Is this a punishment for past failures?” Finn asked the clear blue sky.

Harding’s daughter was as stubborn as he’d been. No. She made Harding look downright reasonable by comparison.

It was fitting then that she was his redemption. She’d make him work for every inch he gained. Trust. Reliance. Ha. The words oshota took for granted in those they vowed to protect were anathema to that woman.

He’d be lucky if she even sort of came to see him in that light.

Finn picked up the drink Kira had ordered for him and lifted it to his lips.

Another thing—did humans not teach their young about following strangers into secluded places? How could she just go off alone? Without him.

It was inconceivable.

The taste of the liquid distracted him for half a second. He gave the drink an impressed look. That was better than he’d been expecting. He’d dare say almost delicious. It tasted similar to laug, a popular Tuann beverage that was present on nearly every planet in their territory.

Of course, the Tuann version was better, but for a human drink this wasn’t bad.

He drained the cup and set it on the table. Time was up. He’d entertained this ridiculousness for long enough.

Since Kira wouldn’t allow him to protect her openly, he’d do so in a more clandestine manner. All he had to do was make sure he wasn’t seen. If there was one thing he’d learned from her, it was that sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

A small hand snagged Finn’s en-blade from its place in his armor. “What’s this?”

Finn froze at the sight of the young girl who’d somehow managed to sneak up on a fully trained oshota. Granted, he’d been distracted about the question of whether he should obey Kira’s order or not, but even then, she should never have been able to get this close without him being aware of it.

She was the same girl who with another boy had stopped Kira on her way to this café to ask for money.

Grace, Finn remembered her being called.

As before her muddy brown eyes took on an amber hue as they nictated. The pupil briefly narrowing to a slit like that of a serpent’s before returning to a normal brown.

Finn didn’t move for long seconds as he studied the girl, processing how much bolder she was now than when he’d first encountered her. That girl had been much shier. Her companion protective.

“Child, that is not a toy.” Finn held a hand in expectation. “Give it back.”

Grace stared at him for half a beat, her gaze more calculative than he’d expect in one so young. An impish grin similar to the one he’d seen on the face of Kira’s niece a handful of times replaced the too mature look.

With a sinking sensation, Finn could guess what the child was about to do even before she bolted away from him.

The tinkling sound of Grace’s laughter trailed behind her as she fled in the opposite direction of the park.

Finn wavered for a split second, torn between his duty to Kira and recovering his en-blade.

The blade was quite literally a symbol of his vow as an oshota and had been a gift from Harding the day Finn joined his service. As such, it was as precious as his life. A memento from a man he’d respected more than any other. A man whose absence all these years later he still felt like a hole in the chest.

With a muttered curse and a last lingering look at the trees in the park, Finn dashed after the child.

Kira had shown him often enough that she was capable of taking care of herself. Besides, an oshota without an en-blade in hand was no more than a pretty ornament.

First, his blade. Then, his charge.

It didn’t take long for Finn to realize how badly he’d underestimated the child. By then, he was deep in the maze of buildings that comprised the human district, getting further and further away from Kira with every step.

The child was clever. She knew every nook and cranny of these alleys. A fact she used to her advantage as she evaded Finn for the third time, disappearing around another corner.

He chased after her, rounding the building in time to see her reaching up to hand the sword to a child crouched above on a ledge.

Grace squeaked at the sight of him. Her companion leaned down and snatched the blade from her hands, rising to sprint along the narrow pathways comprised of balconies, ledges and window flower beds.

Finn paused long enough to ensure Grace’s hand hadn’t been sliced open by the en-blade before putting on a burst of speed to chase after the young child.

This ended now.

Finn surged up the side of the building, landing on a set of pipes right in front of Grace’s companion. A young boy with curly red hair who was missing his two front teeth.

Finn held out his hand in silent demand, his expression severe.

Reluctantly, the boy placed the en-blade in Finn’s palm.

“Good.” Finn stepped forward, scooping the boy into his arms and jumping to the ground below.

Once there, he set the boy down.

“In future, beware of strangers,” he told the boy and Grace. “Not everyone will be as gentle as I am should you take their things.”

The children looked at each other and then up at Finn in bafflement.

Finn sighed internally. Really, what were these people teaching their young? Had they been Tuann they would have learned to be suspicious of anyone not of their House from the moment they could walk.

Instead of harping on the point, Finn gestured for Grace to lift her arm. When she delayed, he reached out and lifted it for her, tapping his forearm against hers in the process to transfer credits.

“That should be enough to keep you in treats for a while. I don’t want to see you begging on the streets again. It’s too dangerous,” Finn informed them as he straightened and turned back the way he’d come.

He waved one last time at the children before he set off at a jog, backtracking the way he’d come.

When he finally reached the café, it was to hear the sounds of fighting taking place from the park where Kira had gone.

A growl left him.

Every. Single. Time.

*

 Tommy watched the oshota stalk into the park’s forest as he grumbled to himself about stubborn swords and his mistake of answering the call from the emperor’s face.

Grace appeared from an alleyway before making her way to Tommy’s side. “Was that distraction enough?”

Tommy patted Grace on the head, letting her lean into his side with a look of comfort.

Like all of Selene’s orphans, Grace’s experience with affection was limited—and recent. Until she’d come here, every touch she’d received had been one of violence or clinical detachment.

The humans’ books on child development said how critical receiving loving gestures could be on their future growth. That such things were a sign of affection and trust.

As such, Tommy made it his mission to impart the things he learned to the rest of the orphans. Accustomed to violence as he was, it had taken some effort to figure out how to be the big brother to the younger kids.

“You did perfect,” Tommy told her.

Grace grinned and danced out of reach before darting back into the alley.

Tommy waited until she was out of hearing range before addressing the person who had joined him.

“I did what you asked,” Tommy told the person. “Are you going to explain why I put my friend in harm’s way like that?”

Their game of keep-away with the oshota’s en-blade had been a risk. One Tommy was only willing to take because Kira had vouched for him.

Their savior was more suspicious and paranoid than even Selene—and that was saying something. If she felt he was trustworthy enough to bring here, it was unlikely he’d cause any true harm to them.

“There was something I needed to confirm,” the person told Tommy.

“And did you?”

The person finally looked Tommy’s way with a smile that was as deceptive as it was beautiful. “Yes.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes at the person. That told him nothing.

“What did you think of the Phoenix’s companion?” the person asked.

“He’s kind.”

Far kinder than Tommy had expected.

He’d made sure Simon reached the ground safely and even given Grace money for treats with nothing more than a warning against approaching strangers.

Tommy had spent enough time on the streets to be able to recognize the good from the bad—and that man was about as good as they came.

The person’s smile widened, finally reaching their eyes. “I agree.”

Tommy gave them a grumpy look that did nothing to hide his wariness. The things he did for his family.

“Don’t worry, young one. I hold no bad intentions toward Kira or her companion. This exercise was simply to confirm he was who I thought he was.”

And that was the only reason Tommy had gone along with this cockamamie idea.

“Does this mean you’ll leave Selene and Elena alone now?” Tommy asked.

The person inclined their head. “As is our agreement.”

Tommy grunted. Good. He’d hate to have to activate any of Selene’s contacts. The older children who’d aged out of her protection were a dangerous lot and not to be trifled with lightly. If he could, he’d like to avoid that scenario.

When he looked up, it was to find the person gone.

Tommy sighed and shook his head as he turned to make his way toward home. “Good luck, Phoenix.”

The post Finn Short – Book 3 appeared first on T.A. White.

It had started.

A part of Selene had been expecting this. When Kira came calling, trouble was always sure to follow. Her youngest sister attracted danger in the same way a flower did pollinators.

It was Kira’s curse—and her greatest blessing.

Selene was simply unlucky enough this time to get caught in the cross fire. An eventuality she had always recognized as probable.

In some ways, she felt as if she’d been waiting for this moment since the first time Kira had come to her with a child. Lost and alone, broken as Selene had been.

She should have turned Kira away—right then and there. It was what the forty-three would have wanted.

Though the children’s beginning was similar to the forty-three’s, they weren’t Selene’s brothers and sisters. They were humans mostly—a few other races too. All with a few extra bits added to their base DNA. All showing signs of the same brutal experiments Selene and the rest had endured.

It was a wake-up call. The universe’s way of saying “See. This is what happens when you walk away—the innocent suffer.”

Confronted with the result of her lack of action, Selene felt compelled to help. For the first time, she chose to go against the unspoken wishes of the forty-three. In all the years since, she’d never regretted that.

“They’re here,” Tommy said from the doorway. Fear and anticipation warred for supremacy on his face.

Selene set her tea cup down with a clink. “I understand. Please have the rest of the children report to the designated safe area.”

“What will you do?” Tommy asked, his heart in his eyes.

They both knew the possible outcomes of the coming confrontation.

Selene stood and crossed to him. She ruffled his hair, sending him a reassuring smile. “I’ll fulfil the promise I made you and all the rest. I’ll protect us all.”

Selene stepped past him and into the entryway, every inch of it designed to feel like a home to the lost souls she took in. Many of whom had never had one before.

Discarded garments and other items belonging to the children littered the hooks and bench waiting by the front door.

It was cluttered but warmth and love radiated through every inch of the space.

Out of habit, Selene started to reach for her parasol, one of her own design. With a shaft made of iron, it was far heavier than anyone would expect from a simple glance.

“I want to come with you. I can fight too,” Tommy burst out.

Selene paused, her hand hovering over the parasol. After a moment, she chose the parasol to the right of the one she intended.

To an outsider, it would look similar to the first. Only she and her children knew the truth.

It was a weapon designed to make channeling her odd little talent even simpler. If her talent failed to garner her the results she wanted, it also had a thin blade the length of her arm hidden within.

Perfect for carving up her enemies if need be.

It shouldn’t come to that though.

Selene cast a look over her shoulder at Tommy and shook her head slightly. “Children should stay children for as long as possible.”

In this, Kira had been right.

Just because the forty-three had their beginnings twisted didn’t mean the children should face the same.

They’d suffered enough. It was Selene’s greatest honor to shoulder this burden for them.

“Elena doesn’t sit in the background while others fight,” Tommy argued with a stubborn tilt of his chin.

Selene turned to face him fully, taking a moment to study his expression.

Behind all that bravado was fear.

Fear that Selene would never come back. Fear that their enemies would breach the defenses, consigning the children to hell again. Fear of the unknown.

It was an emotion Selene was long acquainted with. All of the forty-three were. It was the thing that defined them, shaping everything they were and everything they did.

One pivotal decision made in a moment of terror because of what they knew was coming had led them to abandon the two youngest.

Sometimes Selene thought that single act of cowardice was where their fate was decided. A corrosive poison that forever tainted the people they could have been.

Kira and Jin existed in the light. The forty-three hid in the dark.

They held themselves separate, subsuming their wants and needs for the promise of safety.

The only time Selene had strayed from that path was when Kira brought her the children. Only then, did she realize the yawning emptiness of her life.

The children gave her a purpose. They were the reason she got up every day.

For them, she’d face anything. Even the fear that had formed the foundation of her existence for so long.

Just this once, Selene would be the hero of the story.

Selene rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Your path and Elena’s have diverged for now.”

There was a small flinch from Tommy at that. His gaze dropped from hers.

Selene leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “There’s more than one way to fight. I need you to stay here and protect the rest. The little ones are counting on you.”

Tommy nodded somberly.

Selene ruffled his hair again and stepped back. “You know what to do next.”

Tommy bowed his head. “The arrangements have already been made.”

A small smile chased across Selene’s face, relief filling her. If nothing else, the children would be taken care of in her absence.

They had protocols in place for exactly this eventuality. If Selene didn’t return, Tommy would contact one of the older children who had passed through these halls. The person would watch over Selene’s little ones.

Selene turned to the door, pausing with one hand on the door knob. She sent a fond smile toward Tommy. “It’s been my greatest pleasure to watch you and the others grow. Live well.”

There was a hiccupping sob that Selene steeled herself against as she stepped through the doorway. Her senses tingled as she moved through the shield she’d created to protect the house.

It would hold even if every building around her plot of land was razed to the ground.

Only a concentrated energy beam over a sustained period would breach the defenses she’d built.

Holding thoughts of the children close, Selene walked toward the small fence, the look in her eyes wintry.

Today, she would face battle. Her enemies should prepare themselves for she would not be merciful.

The tsavitee war party stopped their march at the edge of her property.

Infantry mostly. Those tsavitee known as demons. Horns curled from their head. The bigger and more impressive, the higher the tsavitee was likely to be in their ranks.

Selene didn’t know if the tsavitee’s masters had designed them to resemble the nightmares from human religious texts on purpose or if that was simply a coincidence.

In addition to the infantry tsavitee, Selene caught sight of a mantis in their number, probably the one entrusted to control the less intelligent demons.

The mantis body was abnormally long and lean, almost skeletal. It stood several feet taller than the rest.

“Hand over our property,” the mantis ordered in a voice much softer and more beautiful than his appearance would suggest.

“I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. No such thing exists here,” Selene said with a calm expression.

She stood midway between her house and the invaders. While the barrier she’d erected to protect her home would withstand the bombardment, it wouldn’t fare as well against those assembled before her.

She’d created it to allow the children to come and go freely. As a result, its impermeability increased directly proportional to the force used against it. Any projectile or laser weapon would bounce right off, but a thrown ball could still break a window as the children had discovered to their chagrin.

All the tsavitee would need to do to breach her defenses was walk through the front door.

The shield’s construction was a deliberate oversight on Selene’s part, balancing the needs and happiness of the children with safety.

“Lies,” the mantis sneered.

Selene didn’t speak.

Fascinating. The mantis race was one who prided themselves on their intelligence, but as far as Selene could see, the reality didn’t quite live up to the rumors.

A smart man would ask himself how someone like her, a supposed human, could face down a war party without the faintest trace of fear.

Only those truly confident in their abilities or the foolish would feel no sense of concern in the current situation.

After considering the possibilities, a wise man would have shown caution and modified his approach. The mantis did neither.

“Nothing to say?” The mantis smirked. “Very well. We’ll come and take what we want.”

Selene finally smiled. “You are welcome to try.”

“Rip out this insolent woman’s tongue,” the mantis ordered.

As if released from an invisible leash the tsavitee charged forward with a roar.

Selene pointed her parasol at the ground a few feet in front of her and envisioned a barrier very different than the one that guarded her house.

The first tsavitee reached it going full force. He bounced off, a sharp crack ripping through the air. He dropped lifeless to the ground, his neck at an odd angle from the momentum of his impact against an unmovable object.

Surprised pleasure filled Selene. She hadn’t expected anyone to die from such a small trick, but she’d take her victories where she could.

“It’s a pity, but you won’t touch a hair on my head.” Selene raised her hand, power swirling in her finger tips as the tsavitee looked from their dead companion to her with confusion. “You’re all going to die here.”

If someone came looking for their end as these tsavitee did, who was Selene to deny them?

Selene wasn’t her siblings. She didn’t possess their destructive force or their affinity for killing. Her abilities had always leaned more toward protection. Shields and their like in particular.

But the tsavitee had no interest in such weaklings.

To survive the camps and not be considered a failed experiment repurposed to be harvested for genetic material, Selene had to adapt—which meant getting creative.

Now, she was every bit as deadly as her siblings.

Her hand never stopped moving as she drew elegant lines in the air. Each one anchored with a smidgen of her power. Pressure built as she imbued the lines with the invisible essence present in all things, funneling it through the channels she created. She tweaked it here and there, finishing the entire thing in seconds.

Her hands dropped as her lips curved.

Shields were her strength, yes—but no one would ever tell her where those shields had to be placed.

“Die,” she whispered.

She felt power siphoned from her. A shield no bigger than her fist punched through the mantis’s chest, its normally transparent walls easily visible when covered with blood and other matter.

The mantis dropped to the ground, instantly dead.

The fighting stilled as the tsavitee who, seconds before, had been intent on killing her in the most gruesome way possible, stopped and stared. Shock was written on their faces.

Before they could react, Selene flicked her finger at several. One by one, they fell in the same manner as the first. Some had gaping holes in their chests, others after having their head exploded.

Unfortunately, the advantage lent her by her surprise attack didn’t last long.

A tsavitee demon barked several commands. His brethren surged forward in mass.

Smart of them. How unexpected.

Selene’s little trick worked best on stationary targets. It was much more difficult to calculate the spatial dimensions when they were moving.

By the time, she pinpointed the location and triggered the mini shields, the target would have already moved out of the kill zone.

Now, she would need to anticipate where an enemy would be before they got there. Not impossible—just much harder.

Selene fell back a step as the tsavitee penetrated her first shield. She brought the parasol up and concentrated. This next bit would be a tad messy.

In the distance, a flood of Tuann clad in many different colors of synth armor boiled down the street in Selene’s direction, massacring every stray tsavitee they encountered.

A choice loomed before Selene. She could retreat. Fall back into the safety of her house and let the Tuann take care of the war party.

Her shields wouldn’t hold for long, but it would be long enough.

Without any hesitation, she sketched more lines with her parasol.

She couldn’t stop. Not now. Not until she was done. These tsavitee had threatened the children; they had to die.

Selene concentrated.

There was a small pop in her mind before thousands of shields in the shape of thin spikes sprouted around her.

Unlike her previous barriers, these contained a whisper of color. To a bystander it would look like Selene was standing in the center of a blossoming dahlia the color of azure, the petals lovingly framing her.

Blood splattered. The tsavitee froze in a macabre tableau, skewered like bugs on a pin.

The death rattle of their chests as they drew their last breath echoed in Selene’s ears. She watched it all with a cold expression, feeling nothing.

They weren’t her first kill; nor would they be the last.

For a long moment, she held them in place, not rescinding her shields.

The Tuann approached looking from her to the dead all around her, their gazes lingering on the petals of her dahlia where they impaled their victims.

“How did she do that?” a Tuann wearing green synth armor with gold accents asked.

Another in the same green shook her head. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen ki used like that.”

A Tuann in armor the color of bronze looked at Selene with suspicion. “Are we sure that’s ki? What is to say she’s not one of them?”

He cast a meaningful eye over the dead tsavitee.

The other two shared a look before shaking their heads.

“She killed them—for one,” the woman pointed out. “That doesn’t say tsavitee ally to me.”

Selene ignored the conversation, calmly focusing on the man who was clearly their leader. He wore synth armor the color of the void, a black so deep it looked like the bottomless ocean at night.

Selene knew from the children’s gossip that this was the man who’d chased Kira through the stadium after her race—quite unsuccessfully.

The children had found that fact highly amusing.

“Do you know who we are?” the man asked, resignation on his face.

He looked at Selene like she was a problem he didn’t want.

When she didn’t respond, he took a step forward. “We’re here to help you.”

At that Selene couldn’t help her small snicker as she arched an eyebrow and tilted her head at the dead. “Oh? Do I really look like I’m in need of help?”

The man’s eyebrow twitched, his gaze taking in the carnage. With a grimace, he conceded her point.

The woman from before leaned forward. “Baran, she’s Tuann, right?”

Baran didn’t answer, his expression guarded as he stared at Selene.

“What house are you?” the man in the bronze armor asked.

Selene remained quiet, watching with interest as Baran scrubbed a hand over his face before taking another look at the mess.

“What a nightmare.” He dropped his hand, giving Selene a resigned look. “You’re not from any House, are you?”

“Not unless you count the house behind me.”

His frown grew more pronounced.

“But I suppose you’re not going to do that,” Selene said with a twitch of her lips.

Understanding grew on the woman’s face. “No, she can’t be.”

“She is,” Baran said flatly.

Her eyes got bigger as she looked from Selene to Baran and back again. “She’s one of the lost children?”

“Are you going to be as difficult as the other one?” Baran asked.

Selene’s smile was faint. “That’s an impossibility. No one could ever match Kira in that.”

His companions remained motionless, blinking rapidly in shock.

“Will you come with us?” Baran asked, seeming to brace himself.

Though it was phrased as a question, Selene knew they didn’t plan to give her many options.

Already, she could see the glowing happiness in their faces, the anticipation and hope.

She could also see that while Baran didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the idea of forcing her compliance, he also wasn’t willing to walk away. If she said no, he, and likely the other three, would stay nearby, guarding her.

Selene glanced at her front door. She couldn’t afford the second option. The ones in her care were vulnerable and these Tuann too unpredictable a factor to risk the two groups meeting now.

The children would be safe if she left now. The person she’d instructed Tommy to call would look after them. If by some chance something happened to them, Tommy could go to Alexander. He’d protect her children despite his reservations—and disapproval.

“Yes, I’ll go with you,” Selene said, turning back to Baran.

Once more she would confront what she feared—but this time it wasn’t entirely for her children. It was for two others who walked the path of the righteous without qualms or hesitation, never realizing how much the forty-three admired them for that.

Selene’s destiny had reached a cross roads. Perhaps it was greedy of her, but she hoped it held the potential of mending what she’d broken inside herself all those years ago.

The post Selene Short Scene – Book 3 appeared first on T.A. White.

The en-blade rose and fell in time with his steps. Up, down, diagonal, side-to-side. Each slash precise. Pristine. As meticulous and powerful as the man executing them.

Harlow’s feet whispered across stone as he moved through fighting forms with the same ease with which he’d greet an old friend. Sweat slid down his chest as his powerful arms lifted the blade again and again.

The hall of warriors was still dark, cast in shadow, only the faintest flicker of helo lamps highlighting the stone and wood. Night still held sway, dawn barely kissing the horizon. Hours from now, when the sun dominated the sky, the hall would come alive, slightly chaotic as the warriors put in their time with the blade, striving for a perfection that could never be won—but had to be sought nevertheless.

Harlow had always preferred the peace and solitude of this hour, relaxing into the quiet as he created his own beauty in the expression of his movements.

It helped to soothe the raw edges of his soul, instilling a bit of calm in an otherwise turbulent universe. Today, he needed that more than ever. His skin itched with the need for action.

His kind were volatile. Inaction made their natural disposition to violence more extreme. Burning some of that excess energy off was a necessary task. Idle Tuann were dangerous Tuann, prone to easily prodded tempers. Victims to their own bad judgment.

It was their curse—and their gift.

Harlow was a man who prized control above all things. Hence his daily meeting with the en-blade.

After so many years as a warrior, the blade was now an extension of himself. As familiar as his own hand.

He was tireless, merciless, as he cut, the slight whistle of the blade slashing the air the only accompaniment to his steady breathing.

He was a big man but he moved like a cat across the floor dancing from one side to the other in a graceful display of power as he began to incorporate the warrior kattas that made up his practice.

His mother had started him on this path when he could barely take his first step. Now, little thought was required to move through the sword’s dance. Pushing away the clamor of the world was second nature as he sunk into the complex movements, twisting powerfully through the forms.

With a long exhale he slid his blade into the last katta, stepping forward, his knee bending as his back leg and front arm straightened. He held the position for several long seconds before rising and lowering the blade so the tip pointed toward the ground.

“What news do you bring me?”

The oshota waiting silently in the shadows stepped forward, his gaze respectful as he approached his Overlord. “Silas and Quillon have confirmed it. She is Harding’s child.”

Outwardly, Harlow remained impassive as he stared unseeing at the stone that made up the walls of the training room, a place so steeped in tradition it seemed as if it had stood since the beginning of time and would remain long after his bones fell to dust.

“The Emperor’s Face was right to call us then,” Harlow finally said.

The oshota inclined his head. “His instincts were correct. There is no doubt. She is Roake.”

Harlow wasn’t surprised. He’d trained the boy himself until the emperor had called him to service. Graydon would know exactly what her presence would mean to him.

“Begin preparations,” Harlow ordered, sheathing the en-blade.

“As you wish, overlord.” The oshota bowed briefly at the waist before stalking away.

Harlow’s feet whispered across the ground as he found himself drawn to the opposite end of the hall where banners representing the fallen hung. Countless banners lined the walls, overlapping with not a single inch of bare space from the floor to the ceiling a hundred feet overhead.

House Roake had never been a peaceful house. It showed here in the banners of the dead. The safety of their house came with a price, one paid in blood and tears.

His gaze moved over the banners. The oldest of them were faded and marked with age, the writing illegible. Most were half covered by those who’d fallen later. Roake only hung banners for those who died in service and defense of the house. To be added to the wall was considered one of the highest honors a member of the house could receive. The banners of those who’d died recently were still vivid and bright, the white letters of their names almost stark against the midnight blue of the banner.

Harlow ignored the old and the new, locating with the ease of long practice a banner larger than the rest where it rested midway up the wall in a place of honor. No other banner trespassed along its borders.

This one was half faded, the name not as crisp as it’d once been. Time was said to soften the loss even as it drained the banners of color, but Harlow still felt the person’s absence as keenly as he had that first moment.

On the banner was written a name.

Harding. Harlow’s younger twin brother, the other half of his soul and the former overlord.

The sins of the past wouldn’t ruin the future.

“I will not fail her as I did you,” he vowed.

 

*

 

The communicator on his desk chimed its signal announcing a personal communication on his encrypted line.

Harlow waved out the two oshota he’d been disciplining and waited until the door sealed behind them before he opened the line with a mental thought.

“Overlord.” Silas’s somber gaze met his. The man was one of the best when it came to mentoring and shepherding the young of the Fortress through to adulthood, preparing them to survive the dangers of the adva ka. Those who’d undergone his training passed with a higher rate of success than any others. Being trained by Silas was a near guarantee of a high-ranking place in the future. 

Harlow took what the man had molded and shaped it further. His warriors were some of the best among the Tuann. Despite being a small house, few dared to test them. They knew Roake was merciless against their enemies. It had only taken a single demonstration of what they were willing to do for other Houses to back down.

Even the Emperor made use of their training, sending those who’d pledged their loyalty. No other House’s warriors contained the reputation of his. They were the elite. The best of the best. Paid for in blood and reshaped in the crucible of fire.

“Old friend,” Harlow greeted.

“I am sending you some of my personal feed.” Silas didn’t waste any time on pleasantries, correctly guessing his overlord wouldn’t have the patience for them.

Colors and light took shape on the flat surface of his desk, a woman forming, her gaze piercingly intent. Her hair was the dark burgundy of her father, her eyes that of her mother’s people.

“She resembles him,” Harlow said in an emotionless voice.

The holovid began moving.

Harlow didn’t react as a sword pierced her chest, her eyes widening in shock as blood bubbles formed at the corner of her mouth. That shock quickly changed to fear and then determination. It was like a glimpse of the past, her expression containing every inch of her father’s stubbornness. A woman’s face appeared above her shoulder, her expression mocking.

The first woman didn’t react, her mouth forming a word as the sword was ripped from her chest. She hit her knees, still no fear on her face. Whatever she was staring at caused her to smile faintly before she toppled face first to the ground.

Her attacker sauntered toward the person recording.

Harlow almost missed the exact moment when things changed, when the tide of the battle shifted out of the attacker’s favor.

The body of his niece stood, her skin darkening, violet symbols appearing on her body as if some invisible hand was writing them into her skin. Her eyes opened. The holovid blinked and she was behind her attacker, her hands reaching up and wrenching the woman’s head sideways, breaking her neck with one well-placed blow.

Harlow froze the holovid, leaning forward to examine the woman’s face. His niece.

“She’s primus,” he murmured.

“Yes. From the reactions of the humans, my guess is this wasn’t her first time in this form,” Silas agreed.

“She’s young.”

Silas nodded.

“How many of the markings does she have?” Harlow asked.

“According to Finn—all of them.”

Harlow stilled, his gaze contemplative as he stared at the turbulent sea visible outside his window. “That is unexpected.”

Not since the first Roake Overlord had there been another with a full set. In all those millennium the Mea’Ave had not determined another strong enough to carry the full weight of its will.

Unusual for it to make its claim on one exiled from her people.

“You know what to do,” Harlow said.

Silas nodded. “Consider it done.”

The holo vid disappeared leaving Harlow sitting alone in a silent room.

He leaned back and let out a heavy sigh. “Niece, fate has not been kind to you.”

A silent nudge down along the network and his mind reached out to another’s. The link opened.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Harlow said before the other could speak.

“I’m listening.”

The post Deleted Scene – Book 2 appeared first on T.A. White.

Morale was low. Boredom had set in.

Communication with the outside world had been lost ages ago. Since then, Jin had made no attempt to reestablish it.

Drastic measures would need to be taken to restore order amid chaos. Jin was just the drone for the job.

His enemies thought this little isolation would make him defenseless. Break him.

Jin cackled. Not likely.

He’d show them. He’d emerge victorious and make them bow before his greatness.

Jin circled his tiny cell. Four walls. No decorations. Not even a cot to rest on. It was little more than a storage closet. In fact, he was pretty sure that was exactly what it had been before current events.

That was okay. Sleep was for meat sacks; not superior beings like him.

He hovered over the carcass of his masterpiece, the parts that had once been the media system and speaker disassembled and lying spread across the floor.

Now, they resembled a Frankenstein’s monster, repurposed for his own needs. Only the truly enlightened would be able to appreciate what he’d created out of nothing. The rest would only see a jumbled mess of wires and hardware.

Jin oohed and awed, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. Not bad for something he’d whipped up from only what was available.

A spark leapt from his sphere to his masterpiece. The pieces buzzed but there was no oomph. No crackling electricity that meant life.

Power. He needed more of it.

Jin whipped around, racing to the far wall of his cell. He knew just where to go.

He reached the smooth metal and flipped on the power for the weapon he wasn’t supposed to have. He also probably wasn’t supposed to have adjusted the energy fluctuations turning the blaster Kira had installed into a high-powered welder.

Again, he cackled as the makeshift torch burned into the metal, turning it into molten putty. It folded in on itself, exposing straight little lines of the electrical wiring that ran the ship.

He paused, gloating over his genius. They were like soldiers standing in formation, just waiting on him to give them their orders.

Jin flipped on his grav boosters, which were basically giant magnets that made it possible for him to pick up and drop things. Another addition he probably wasn’t supposed to have. Too late now. It was his, and he had no intention of shutting off that little capability.

The wires shook in place before popping off the wall and sailing toward him.

Like shooting fish in a barrel, he thought smugly. If by shooting, you meant using a modified grav hook to levitate the fish out of the water.

His mission accomplished, he darted back to his masterpiece. Hooking up the necessary relays were easy. It took only moments.

Pausing, he hovered over the tangle of parts.

Soon. Soon his time would come and none would oppose him ever again.

The metallic sphere that made up his body lit up menacingly. This time when his chuckle came it was deep. Fearsome. If a meatsack heard it, it would strike fear into their hearts.

He lowered over the giant red button he’d created. It was a needless affectation—the creation could be turned on with simply a thought—but he figured the red button lent a certain gravitas to this momentous occasion.

Cackling to himself, Jin thumped the button.

Power crackled; electricity surged.

The framework for his masterpiece shook, threatening to tear apart. Jin looked down with a sense of glee. Almost there.

There was a sharp pop and a shower of sparks. The lights went off as the ship he was traveling on shuddered.

Uh oh. That hadn’t sounded good.

“Jin. You there?” Kira’s unmistakable voice came from a panel by the door.

Jin regarded it thoughtfully. He thought he’d dismantled that.

“Answer me, you worthless piece of scrap metal,” Kira growled.

“Yes,” he said, drawing out the word.

There was a pause.

“Power to several key systems, including life support just shorted out. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Jin spun to take in the giant hole he’d burned into the wall. Hm. Those hadn’t led where he thought. He’d been sure they went to the communications array.

It was possible in his excitement he’d chosen the wrong wires to conscript for his little project.

“That’s weird,” he finally said.

There was a moment of silence.

“Yeah. It is,” she said. “It’s not the only oddity. Seems several systems in the ship are acting glitchy.”

“Huh.”

He could almost feel Kira’s eyes narrowing. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for hours. Why haven’t you answered?”

Jin cleared his throat, an affectation since he didn’t actually have a throat, or any biological parts at all. His soul was housed in a machine, one that had not one single scrap of biological material.

“What is that behind you?” her voice deepened into what he classified as her intimidating voice.

He spun to regard his shining work of art. It was going to be glorious when finished. With it, he would take over the universe.

But first he had to distract Kira. She wouldn’t understand the majesticness of his plans.

“Nothing important,” he chirped.

Note to self, make sure you disable ALL of the cameras before assembling your greatest masterpiece.

Silence crackled from the panel.

Kira’s sigh gusted over the comms. “Jin, you’ve only been in there two hours. There’s one more to go. Please don’t do anything that will get us kicked off the ship.”

“Of course not, Kira.”

Jin spun to face his creation again, his maniacal laugh filling the room.

“I can still hear you,” Kira said.

“Ah.” His laugh cut off.

He’d have to work on his badass ninja skills for sneakiness, but in his defense, Kira was a worthy foe.

Now, where was he?

Ah, right. There he was. What system should he take over first?

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