The party materialized on a wide rocky ledge, high up on the side of what Magnus assumed was a peak in the Shardan range east of the capital city. Stunned at finding himself in such a remote place and momentarily unsettled by the whole instantaneous experience of transporting, the captain blinked rapidly and pulled in a deep lungful of crisp mountain air while the intermittent wind played with his hair. Beside him, Arman and Selina stood as still as statues, seemingly unfazed by the high elevation.

Alcyone was low in the sky, spilling the last of its bright rays over the Andaran landscape below, and out at the very edge of the rocky drop-off sat the leader of the Makhás, his silky white hair coursing down the back of his black vest. He didn’t move a muscle, but Magnus had the distinct impression that he was keenly aware of their presence behind him.

Selina glanced worriedly up at Arman before taking a few steps toward her brother. “Kiri, I know you’re in a world of pain right now. Will you talk to me?” When the man didn’t reply, she moved closer and went on. “I loved her, too, and I can’t stand it that she’s gone. She was wonderful, generous, funny, and I’m going to miss her terribly. But we’re still alive, Kiri. We made it through thanks to you and we all still need you.”

The small woman paused and watched her twin, waiting, hoping for a reply or some kind of sign that her words were reaching him. “Are you just going to crumble like Dad?” she threw out, her voice strained with frustration and bitterness. “He wouldn’t listen either, in spite of anything we said, like we didn’t matter. Please, Kiri, I can't lose you, too.” Covering her face with her hands, she fell to her knees, weeping softly.

Arman glanced at Magnus and with a nod of his head, signaled for him to walk with him as he stepped forward and stopped next to Selina, putting a gentle hand down on her head in sympathetic understanding. “Kirian, I brought Magnus Talrésian with us,” he stated with a firm tone. “You need to listen to what he has to say.” With another nod, he encouraged Magnus to move forward.

Walking toward the seated figure, Magnus realized with a wild rush that the ledge fell away dramatically and that there was nothing in front of him besides distant landscape and air. He stopped a couple paces behind Kirian and swallowed, fighting off a moment of vertigo before he was able to focus on the man’s form and restore his sense of balance.

“Kirian, I can’t say I know exactly how you feel,” he began quietly, “but I can tell you this. For the past five years, I’ve been struggling with the pain of losing people to violent deaths. I’m slowly learning how to handle it so I can stay sane and keep going in order to do what I set out to do—find a way to protect the people I love from the horror of the reptiles.”

He let out a slow breath and let himself look out across rolling land to take in the beautiful sunset. “Today, the last free worlds of Merope fell to the Empire. I failed to keep an old friend from being blown to bits and some people on Sahara I care deeply about are now facing torture or death. Watching our technology fall short time and time again while millions—no, billions of lives were condemned to Drahkian rule has nearly suffocated me with despair.”

As a sudden gust of wind came up over the ledge, he ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “But then, out of nowhere, I heard your voice call for help and for the first time in a long time, something I could do actually made a difference for someone. It was a major turning point for me.” He dropped his arms and opened his eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over him. “When I watched the amazing things you and your people can do and then saw Rinzen appear in the sky, it was like a door had opened that I thought was bolted shut. I haven’t felt this engaged, this hopeful for ages. But it’s not just me, Kirian. I saw the same excitement on the faces of some very talented people down there on the landing fields. We have a lot of sharp minds here in Alcyone willing to move forward and expand, people who are dedicated to keeping our worlds from being swallowed by the Empire. We have billions here to protect. I know we can learn.”

Arman’s soft steps came across the stone and halted just behind Magnus’s right shoulder. “The Makhás can make an impact here,” his deep voice intoned. “We can flourish again, build something new with these people, birth new ships. Rinzen doesn't have to die the last of her kind. But we’ll fall to ashes again if we don’t take a different path from our predecessors. If Minla were here and your child was born on Tarsus, you’d do anything to protect them—I know you, Kirian. There are children here who need us and she’d want us to watch over them.”

The snowy white head dropped into a slump. It was the first indication Magnus had seen that the man was affected at all by their words and a small spark of hope kindled in his chest. “Teach us, Kirian, please,” he hissed softly.

Several moments passed before the Makhás’ hoarse voice broke through the air. “Is it the price of our survival here?”

“No, of course not!” Magnus replied quickly, reminding himself that the man knew nothing about Tarsus or its people.

“Do you kill?”

The captain paused, instantly aware that his answer was vitally important to the Makhás leader. “At the moment, we use weapons because we don’t know how else to deal with the violent Drahks, but the Alcyone worlds have an ingrained history of peaceful trade and art.”

“Do you eat meat?”

Magnus blinked, thinking about how to shape his reply, when Kirian raised his head and pressed on. “It matters,” he spat. “Killing animals and ingesting violence perpetuates violence. We carry a thousand years of Makhás knowledge, but we'll take it to the grave unless you make a full commitment to non-violence.”

Walking over to the edge of the precipice, Magnus carefully sat down beside the tall tigerman. “Then we will.”

Kirian stared out across the peaceful landscape in front of them. “Can you speak for all?”

“They'll listen. What we’re doing isn’t working and everyone knows it. If those are your terms, we’ll comply.”

The Makhás remained silent, but Magnus could feel a difference in the man’s internal tenor. The harsh, protective edge was gone, but he sensed a profound, unwavering dedication to principles and he instinctively knew the same loyalty ran deeply in all Makhás. He mulled over Kirian’s decree, weighing it against his own pressing need, and chose his next words carefully. “I’m fully prepared to dedicate myself to the same high ethics you live by and I believe you’ll find the same metal in the Alcyoni people. But we still have a problem to solve with homicidal aggressors. Non-violence doesn’t mean sit on your ass and do nothing if someone’s harming you. There has to be a way to defend our worlds without killing. That’s the future I want, Kirian. I've had enough heartache, enough blood, killing, dying. It takes its toll on your psyche. I was nearly sucked into the endless cycle of insanity. My god, I was almost there.”

“What pulled you back?”

Magnus smiled and sighed softly. “My son. He told me not to get lost. He's not very old, but he's wiser than I am.” He shook his head, thinking how close he had come to veering down that other path, how perversely good it felt to hate the Drahks. “I was on the edge, angry, hurt, my mind had switched off and I was in some faraway place just to cope with the grief—where you are right now.” He waved a hand at the chasm stretching away hundreds of feet down below their boots. “This is exactly how I felt. I’d just lost two of my closest friends when their ship was destroyed right in front of me.”

“I saw you,” Kirian murmured.

Startled, Magnus looked over at the man beside him. The Makhás’ gray eyes had shifted downward as he focused on an internal recollection.

“I saw the whole thing, felt the pain in your chest,” he said quietly. “I called out to you, but you couldn’t hear me.” Picking up the intricate gold pendant around his neck, Kirian ran his thumb thoughtfully over its surface. “You did today.”

Magnus reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small golden object, holding it on his palm for Kirian to see. “Someone I don’t know sent this to me through a friend four days ago.”

Kirian glanced at the delicate geometric form, narrowing his eyes in speculation. “I just found this pendant three days ago in a box that wouldn’t open until I touched it.”

“Then maybe we were meant to connect for some reason, Kirian Vall. It’s no accident that you’re here.”

The Makhás lifted his gaze, looking Magnus in the eye for the first time. “I once knew a man like you, passionate about saving his people.” He studied the Tarsian captain for several moments before nodding slowly. “We'll teach you. Arman’s right—she’d want that. She’d want me to take care of the people here.”

Magnus nodded in reply, unable to quell the sudden sparkle that must have shone in his eyes.

Kirian let out a long, slow breath. “What you do now with machines, we can teach you to do psychically. You’ll be able to speak telepathically, transport objects, control your portals, mask surface readings, create sentient starships—all with geometry, sound, sexuality, and intention. It won't stop the Drahks. I don't know what will.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep looking for more answers—together.”

The shadows grew long as the great blue star sank below the far horizon. They sat for a while in silence while the chilly breeze buffeted their hair and clothing. Tipping his head back, Magnus looked up at the first stars coming out in the rich cobalt cloud overhead, picking out Maia and Merope with ease. His heart squeezed as he gazed at Merope and he realized with sadness that he would always feel this way whenever he saw her, wondering about the dear friends he had lost.

After a time, his eyes moved on to a constellation just becoming visible on the southern horizon, settling on a bright point he knew to be Sirius. Before today, it had been just one tiny speck in an ocean of possibilities and he marveled at how extraordinarily mercurial life could be. Turning his head, he found Kirian staring at the same point in the sky. The man’s emotions were unreadable, but Magnus had the sorrowful feeling that the Makhás master would always grieve when he looked back at home. He could only hope that in time, Kirian and the other refugees would heal along with him and the rest of the fleet under the radiant light of Alcyone and that the long reach of the Drahkian Empire stayed far away from all of them.