by Corin Cain
I walk to the balcony. Below me stretches the ancient Aurelian capital city. Huge estates span as far as the eye can see. When an Aurelian finishes his hundred years of service, he’s granted a mansion and property – the opportunity to live the remainder of their thousands of years in luxury.
Some restless souls forsake that – to strike it out on their own, like my triad had done. They fight to carve their own legacy in this limitless universe.
But some chose to live out their lives on Colossus, basking in decadence.
Can you blame them? Women from all over the universe flock to join them. From my balcony, I can look down at the estates below and see tiny little dots lazing by the pools and walking around the malls. Each one of them is a human female – living here in an Aurelian harem; content to serve a triad, or even a single Aurelian.
The streets below teem with them – each estate like a little ant hive.
But even down below, a third of those estates are now silent and empty.
A third of the population of Colossus left – Orb-Shifting out, despite the danger.
And I’d seen it myself, when that warship had been split in half. Many more vessels would have been lost in the void. It seems like the Orbs have turned against us.
Still – the majority would have still come out the other side – to wherever they plan to plot their rebellion next.
It’s difficult to fathom so many Aurelians believing secretly in the old ways. So many who’d want to rule the universe with an iron-fist – owning human women like property, and conquering planets to restore the old glory of the Aurelian Empire.
If we hadn’t brought the Toad mothership into Colossus and catalyzed their exodus, how long would the old ways have had to grow roots on Colossus – festering like a cancer?
How long until they gained enough strength for a coup?
I’ve unwittingly swayed the course of the entire universe. Me – Jamie – the frightened girl who’d been broken by her best friend’s death.
Now, my small story has diverted the stream of history.
But all I want is to be with my triad, far away from the chaos and brutality of war. All I want is to do is be with my triad again.
I’m with their seed. The future is inside of me – and I must protect it.
I will not let anything happen to you.
Marcel had sensed my worry. Even from far away, his voice soothes my anxiety. I’ve witnessed him cut his way through a Toad mothership to save my life, and he’d do the same for me on Colossus.
Below me, the tiny forms of Aurelians scurry like insects. They leave their estates and walk towards a massive building that dominates the skyline.
The Arena of the Gods.
The huge coliseum looms above the city, and I’m not mistaken – there’s a migration towards it. Down below, more and more people move towards that towering landmark.
On the horizon, I spot a squad of five Reavers – all escorting a sleek, white transport ship that beelines towards me.
They’re coming for me.
There’s a disturbance in the auras of my triad. They were calm before battle. Now, the waiting is over.
Quint messages me:
Be calm. Be patient.
I sense him being taken somewhere. My triad is being moved.
I look to the Reavers that hover above. Their Orb-Beams scan the city as the transport ship touches down on the landing pad attached to my luxurious penthouse.
I arrange my long, flowing white dress and return to the suite.
Three hulking aliens stand there, waiting for me. Their huge bodies are protected by the Orb-Armor of Elites. My eyes are hypnotically drawn into the endless, black-blue material that covers them.
I shiver as I imagine how devastating these three would be in battle.
But these are not young Aurelians, fresh out of their hundred years of service. Their cold, grey eyes are lined with tiny wrinkles. The leader has a thick, white mustache.
Queen Jasmine sent a man who has been loyal for centuries. Though nearly a third of Aurelians fled Colossus, the Priesthood and the separatists may have stationed double agents behind. Jasmine chose someone close to her to protect me – somebody she could trust to deliver me to my fate.
I wish I’d had time to watch the latest holo-feed of the news. The universe is going to be torn apart in war, I’m sure of it.
I just need enough of the scorched universe to be left untouched for my triad and I to build a future upon it.
I bow my head to the three warriors. I don’t want the Elites sent here to resent me – to think of me as an uncouth brat, as they view many human females.
I need to remember that the majority of Aurelians might not practice the Old Ways any longer, but they’ve still lived their thousands of years of life surrounded by the human women who’d flocked to Colossus to become pleasure slaves. If that’s the majority of women on Colossus, why shouldn’t these men look at me with disdain?
But they bow their heads back, giving me the respect I’d given them.
These three don’t look at me like a toy. They meet my eyes with the respect of an equal.
It’s difficult to fathom. Three huge, deadly warriors – from the highest tier of Aurelian society, with thousands of years of blood and battle to their name – looking at me with the respect of equals.
“Please come with us.” The leader states the words in High Aurelian.
I respond in kind.
“Where are you taking me?”
But, I know the answer before I even asked.
“The Arena of the Gods. All must face judgement.”
All.
Not just the evil Lord Oblog.
My triad, too.
I sense in the Bond that my three warriors are being moved. They’re being flown to the Arena, where they’ll stand for judgement in front of Queen Jasmine and her triad.
She is to determine our fate.
It’s an ominous situation, but my three proud warriors are resolute. They’re in a meditative state, breathing in the moment stoically. I am their only attachment to reality.
I think back to Orb-Shifting – to when they’d forced that Toad to plunge the mothership into the void. Before we’d reappeared in the orbit of Colossus, I’d felt my triad circle around me forever – as intangible balls of light spinning in the endless universe.
Their son is in me – our first – and he needs a safe place to grow. I will not birth him here, on Colossus - where he’ll just be turned into a weapon. He must grow strong, but with more than just strength.
He must have wisdom. Mercy. Humanity. Everything Ling taught me.
With my triad around me, it’s possible.
But only if we can get out of here alive. If.
In the lobby of my penthouse, I nod to the Elites – then follow them out of the suite and up to the landing bay.
As we walk, my mind races.
If a third of the Aurelians left Colossus – how many of them left other Aurelian Planets?
With the Aurelian Empire shattered, a question must be answered:
Will Queen Jasmine choose my triad and I to serve as examples? To demonstrate her strength and control?
We are at the brink of war. I watched warships take off from hangar bays. I watched Aurelian soldiers training down below. They practiced against other triads – training to fight their own brothers, not Scorp or Toad.
Soon, it will be Aurelian against Aurelian – something that has never occurred in all of known history. It will be a clash between Gods and Titans.
The wind whips at my white robes as I step onto the landing pad. My outfit is similar to traditional Aurelian garb. Ahead of me, the doors of the transport ship open. I climb the Aurelian-sized steps easily enough, and stand by the viewport, looking out as we take off.
Colossus spreads below me – a mixture of ancient Roman-style grandeur and towering new architecture. All around the city, massive white mansions sprawl. With their species dying
out, more and more of those mansions have grown empty over the centuries.
It is only now, with the Bond reawakened, that Aurelians have a chance to build their species anew.
I just pray that the Bond my triad and I share will be enough to spare us the executioner’s axe.
The three Elites who are escorting me don’t act like mere errand boys. They act as if they’re the protectors of the future of their race – and perhaps that’s not unwarranted.
There have still been only a dozen or so Bonded triads in recent history – so each is still sacred to their species. I truly believe they wouldn’t dare kill my triad, or hurt me.
But they only need one of my men alive.
That horrifying thought twists and turns in the back of my mind. They could make examples of two of my men, then imprison me – forcing me to breed over and over again with my one remaining mate, like a breeding sow to restore their species.
Calm.
Lucius’s unspoken word steadies me. His aura flows into mine. The hard-packed red earth of his being, spinning in my mind like a planet, bolsters me. His aura presses itself beneath me, steadying me and holding me up.
Reavers dart and weave all around the transport ship. I’m being escorted like royalty – and I can only guess why.
If the Priests wanted to deal a blow to the Aurelian Empire, they’d kill me before I could bear any loyalist sons. Aurelians born of the Bond come to life with colored eyes, and they are stronger, faster, and smarter than Aurelians born of a cryo-chamber. The last Emperor, who’d ruled before Raegan and Jasmine ascended the throne, had been one of the last to be born of the Bond.
In the rows of streets below us, Aurelians walk toward the Arena of the Gods like ants.
They stream towards the Arena to watch my judgement.
We touch down there, right beside the Coliseum. The Reavers land too, and open their doors – with triads of warrior Elites jumping out and circling me as I’m led from the transport ship.
The Elites form a protective wall of muscle and weapons around me as I’m escorted to the side entrance.
I trust them, and I’m reassured by their presence – but these Elites surrounding me don’t fill me with the same stable, protected feeling as I enjoy when I’m with my triad. These are not my bodyguards. They’re merely an escort.
I keep my chin up, but I’m nervous. Through the Bond, I sense that Marcel is calm and steady – but he’d face a firing squad with that same readiness. There’s no such thing as terror in my triad – except the terror of losing me.
But, right now, they have a quiet longing for life with me.
They got me out of the Toad Mothership.
They kept me safe.
Now, destiny will decide our fate.
I’m led up huge, stone stairs. I would have struggled with them before I was Bonded, because they’re built for the footsteps of seven-feet-tall Aurelians.
Now, though, I spring up them with the balance of a gymnast. I’m not even out of breath as I’m taken through another set of doors to a balcony.
Wind grabs at me.
I realize I’m high above the masses.
The seats of the Arena are filled. Elites are in the prime seats, but Aurelians are packed in everywhere else, wearing the white robes of tradition.
Drones fly all above, broadcasting the spectacle to the masses who can’t be here in person.
To my right is the massive, central balcony of Queen Jasmine herself, linked to mine by a stone walkway.
She doesn’t glance at me as I walk out – merely sitting imperiously on her throne.
It’s surreal to see her in person. I’m used to seeing pictures of her in a pleasure dress, but today she is clad in the Orb-Armour of Elites, tailor made to fit her smaller frame.
She looks like she’s barely a few years older than me – but I know she’s commanded the Aurelian Empire for centuries.
One look at her steely expression makes me realize the vids and pictures don’t tell the story of who she really is. She is not the toy of her triad, who has been fucked on the holo-vids.
I realize now that Jasmine’s performances were all an act. With the Bond enhancing my senses, I now see who is the true power behind the Aurelian Empire. She’s commanded from the illusion of subservience – tricking those who believe in the Old Ways that she is utterly submissive to her triad, while in truth wielding complete control.
In front of her stand two of her oldest sons. I can’t see their eyes, but I know they’ll be colored, just like those of my triad. Jasmine’s sons are born of the Bond.
She has sired many more – hidden away, to prevent the Priests from dealing a fatal blow to her lineage by targeting them.
Behind Jasmine stand her ferocious triad. Led by Emperor Raegan, their faces look as if they were chiseled from stone. They’re weathered by stress, but tower like mountains. They stare down at the crowd below imperiously.
Down below, the sand of the arena is empty.
Dry.
Thirsty.
The blood of countless warriors has been spilled here for centuries. It’s part of the history of the Aurelian Empire. Men have fought and died beneath the same blazing sun – entrusting their fate to the Gods in a trial by combat.
Emperor Raegan himself slew the mighty Scorp-Blooded General Asmod in this very arena - paving his way to taking the throne.
That evil man, Asmod, was the first voice of the return to the old ways. Deadly, and charismatic, he would have led a rebellion centuries ago, if Raegan hadn’t cut him down.
As I stand there, the Arena becomes deathly quiet.
My triad marches in. My breath catches.
I expect them to look up at me as they’re led across the sands, but they keep their gaze forward, their backs straight. Their battle-armor covers them, and they carry Orb-Blades at their side, ready for combat.
Will this be trial by combat?
Will they have to face punishment for their crimes of smuggling?
I glance to the right and my stomach sinks. Up on the royal balcony, Raegan’s hand hovers over the hilt of his Orb-Blade. His triad are equally ready for combat. Raegan had become Emperor by slaying a man in this very arena, and he won’t hesitate to face down my triad now.
Bond-enhanced warrior against Bond-enhanced warrior? Blood would spill, and none of it the Empire can afford to lose.
Up on the balcony, Queen Jasmine raises her hands.
“We are fractured.”
Her voice booms out, amplified, and to my shock every Aurelian looks up at her with the same expression of devotion. Those that remain are utterly loyal to her.
She brought in a new era of Bonding. She gave these people hope, and they’ll die for her.
“The Old Ways are a lie,” Jasmine calls down. “Any child sired of a Forced Bond is cursed and twisted. The Priests and their traditions would doom our race. We. Will. Not. Let them.”
The crowd screams out for blood. They bay, cheer, and roar – the traditionally reserved, cold Aurelians letting go of their authoritative demeanor for a terrifying moment.
But my triad does not.
They stand calm and ready, like weapons waiting to be wielded.
Emperor Raegan steps forward.
“There has been a great betrayal,” he announces. “The Priesthood were plotting rebellion, and they were funded by our oldest enemies – the Toads.”
He snorts bitterly.
“They thought they could fund a rebellion! The Toad Finger himself, Lord Oblog, has told us everything! Credits were being smuggled to the priests to fund a coup.”
The ships were empty on the way back from Colossus.
My triad wasn’t smuggling anything out.
They were smuggling money directly in – to fund the most dangerous movement in Aurelian history.
The crowds grow angry, looking from one another, and then to the three men standing in the middle of the arena
The huge, Aurelian Emperor continues.
“The Priests and the Separatists are fools. They are tools of the Toads, used to make us weaker. But we will not falter! Blood will be spilled to avenge this betrayal!”
My triad stands, tall and strong, but I’m wracked with worry.
Oh, Gods! Please don’t let it be their blood which is spilled!
I’ve already nearly lost Quint.
I can’t feel them fade from my mind. I can’t witness their execution.
Please. Please be okay.
Marcel looks up at me then – and it breaks my heart. I can see those two sapphire eyes gleaming from down below. I never want the light in them to die.
Do not mourn us. You have our seed.
His words stab a hot iron through my heart.
I can’t let them be executed. I look left and right. Is there anything I can do? Could I wrench an Orb-Blade from an Elite? They are stronger than bulls – but with the element of surprise and my Bond-enhanced speed…
Stay.
His voice is a command. Marcel faces his fate, and my throat closes.
Queen Jasmine points down to my three men.
“The three who stand before you uncovered the plot! They brought the very Toad responsible for it to justice, and they alone drew the blinding light of justice to the Priesthood!”
The crowd bays, cheering for my men. I look to Queen Jasmine, incredulous, and Raegan steps up to speak again.
“They will have the honor of taking the Toads head.” The Emperor’s voice booms out.
The gates open.
Lord Oblog is pushed from inside. The gates close behind him. He staggers out into the area, frightened and alone.
He’d seemed so powerful when he’d been sitting at the top of his throne, back on the mothership. When he’d been surrounded by guards and Sentinels, he’d been arrogant and blithe.
But he was only powerful when he had the fate of women and men in his slimy hands.
Now, he stands alone.
Oblog stands in the traditional garb of a Toad Finger – wearing green robes and a crown on his head, to demonstrate his status.
He will die wearing it - as a symbol of the treachery of the Toads.
The drones home in on him, as he stands shivering on the sands. They’re broadcasting his fate to the universe.
Queen Jasmine raises her hands to calm the crowd. “With this justice, the Toad King must denounce Oblog and bring the other guilty finger, Lord Qavar, to us to face equal justice! Otherwise, we’ll know the Toad King himself endorses this treachery – and there will be war!”
