Aurora's End (The Aurora Cycle #3)(63)

He glances around the room, radiating disdain.

“Let us commence,” he says.

Cold silence hangs in the room. The weight of countless lost lives. It’s the Syldrathi who finally breaks it, voice steady despite the rage in his eyes.

“Commander Jones has informed us of the circumstances of your arrival. Outlandish as your claims may seem, our Waywalkers have confirmed your identities.” His violet eyes roam over us all, lingering on the Starslayer. “So. What is it you want from us?”

“The Weapon we came here in is damaged,” I say. “We need to visit a spacetime anomaly in the Theta sector. It leads to a facility on the Eshvaren homeworld. If we can repair the Weapon anywhere, it’s going to be there.”

“Presuming the Ra’haam has not already destroyed this facility,” the Betraskan woman says. “You are certain you could return to your own time if the Weapon is repaired?”

Caersan is studying the Waywalkers around him, one by one, with something like … hunger in his eyes. So I reply.

“Yes, I could provide the propulsion, I think, while he steered.”

The woman leans forward, fingers steepled beneath her chin. “You are aware the Theta sector is completely overrun by the Ra’haam?”

I nod. “From what Tyler said, we’d need to fight our way in. And probably fight the Ra’haam off while we repaired the Weapon, too.”

Now the Rikerite speaks, his voice like a creaky door. “And by we, child, of course you mean us.” He looks between Caersan and me, scowling. “You want us to devote the last of our resources to helping you in what seems a mad gamble? Assuming these repairs can even be effected, who is to say your returning to the past will make any difference at all?”

“If we can make it back, we can destroy the Ra’haam before it ever gets a chance to bloom and burst,” I say, my voice echoing around the empty room. “This is what I’m here for. It’s what I was made to do.”

The Syldrathi shakes his head and sighs. “And yet, if you do not return to your own time safely, you doom not just yourself but everyone in this time as well. You ask us to risk extinguishing the last light in the galaxy.”

“You are already doomed, fool.”

All eyes turn as Caersan’s apparition speaks, his gaze roaming the room and assembled councilors.

“This is no sanctuary. This is a tomb. You hide here in the shadows, praying the true darkness does not find you. But it will. And all of you know it.”

The Watcher comes to his feet in one fluid movement. “You are present against my explicit objection, Starslayer. I will take no counsel from he who destroyed Syldra, who killed billions of her children in a single moment, who left those who survived alone and adrift.”

“Peace is the way the cur cries, ‘Surrender,’ Watcher,” Caersan growls.

“He is no cur,” the old Rikerite spits. “You know nothing of what we have suffered, Starslayer. Nothing of the price we have all paid.”

“I know you are being presented a chance to avoid that price. That suffering. One last glorious battle to be fought for the future of everything.” Caersan lifts his hands, then drops them slowly to his sides. “And still you tremble at the thought of it. Like children. Like cowards.”

The Watcher’s lip curls. “This, from the coward who could have faced the Ra’haam, but fled.”

Caersan turns toward the man, rage flaring, and the power seethes through me, hot and vibrant and deafening. I throw up a mental barrier between the Starslayer and the defiant council members in front of him, my midnight blue crackling as it meets his bloody red, the clash visible for a blink, bringing the Betraskan and the Rikerite to their feet as the Waywalkers, Toshh, Tyler, and Lae lift their weapons as one.

Kal steps forward, shouting, “Father!”

For an instant I feel the fury that flashes through my love’s mind, his instinct for combat. But Caersan only chuckles softly, and his power ebbs. Slowly, I lower my guard, the tension in the air fading.

The Waywalkers around the Starslayer are pale, sharing uneasy glances—they know that they have no hope of overcoming Caersan now, or me. Lae is whispering in Tyler’s ear, one hand on his shoulder. The Watcher remains on his feet, his gaze on the man who murdered his people.

“This is their overture?” he scoffs, looking around at his fellow councilors. “We should send these beggars back to their ship at once.”

“Or,” I say urgently, butting in before the two of them can unzip and start comparing, “we can talk about how we can save lives. Not just yours. Not just ours. Everyone’s. Then and now. Believe me, I understand how you feel about the Starslayer. I feel the same way. But he’s the one who knows how to transport the Weapon back home. I don’t. We need him alive.”

“And if you reach your home?” the Rikerite asks. “What then?”

“Then Caersan and I will have a little … discussion,” I say.

The Starslayer’s projection watches me, cool and imperious. Even if we make it through this alive, somehow make it back to when we came from, we can both feel that conflict rushing toward us headlong. I know if I win, I’ll fire the Weapon. I’ll give everything I have to destroy the Ra’haam.

But mothercustard, that’s a big If.

“The simple fact is, I can’t get back to our own time without him. So please, please, hard as it is, we need to set whatever we’re feeling aside and figure out a way to pull this off.”