Why are you doing this, cursed one? Ares raged at the Hythra, trying to provoke her into answering. But as always, she remained infuriatingly silent.

The ship only spoke when it suited her.

All around him, Corrupted Naaga were rising up out of the floor, the walls, even dropping from the ceiling. It was as if the ship had suddenly decided to reject the hundreds of souls she’d swallowed in her quest to find the perfect commander.

It is because I have found you, Hunter. They are no longer needed. They are filth, and you are perfect. I am merely purging that which does not belong. A form of housekeeping, if you will.

As usual, the ship—or whatever she really was—made no sense whatsoever.

“Get behind me,” he snapped, waving his hand at Maki and the three warriors accompanying him. They had relived Ares of the two fallen ones, reverently whispering traditional Vradhu death-chants as they took the bodies into their arms.

Maki carried the bone-canister. The leg bones were as important as the rest of them. Without them, these brave warriors would not walk in the afterlife.

Ares didn’t care that he’d issued a direct order to his Hunter rank-equal, Maki-ku-Rathra. Others might read it as a grave insult, but Maki a was reasonable sort. He would understand. There wasn’t time for formality and protocol.

“You heard him,” Maki growled. “Get behind Ares-rai and guard our fallen with your lives.”

With the exception of Maki, the Vradhu’s eyes were filled with thinly disguised fear and loathing every time they looked at Ares, but they didn’t hesitate to follow their clan-leader’s commands. Out of respect for their fallen comrades, the Vradhu had to let Ares do the fighting, even if he was no longer Vradhu; even if he was filthy magrel.

He was the strongest amongst them. He always had been.

Now, he’d become infinitely stronger.

The Corrupted approached. Ares had already cut down several of them with his bare hands, but fighting wasn’t so easy when one carried the bodies of two clan-brothers. When Maki’s warriors had finally relieved him of the burden, he’d snapped his wings and launched into a full-scale attack, his newly formed body as much a weapon as the twisting, writhing tendrils of ilverium he commanded.

It turned out the vicious talons on the ends of his wings had a purpose, after all.

Ares flexed his will and harnessed the power of the ilverium, drawing it out of the floor, even as several Corrupted rose up to meet them.

Their low moans flooded the corridor, echoing off the dark, shimmering walls. The ship had swallowed them, devouring their souls. Now she rejected them.

Why?

Because you are what I need. Now all you need to do is tap into your lukara.

Lukara?

She waits.

Ares had no idea what she was on about. He dismissed her infuriating riddles as he turned the metal floor into liquid with his mind, creating an island for himself and his clan-brothers. He sucked the Corrupted into the depths of the ship, pulling them through the shifting surface…

And the Hythra promptly spat them back out again.

“Impossible bitch,” he growled, his frustration mounting. He had been away from his makivari for far too long already. Every moment he wasted fighting these diseased creatures made him more frantic, more uneasy.

More inclined to tear a few Corrupted Naaga heads off if the cursed things got in his way.

Calexa of faraway Earth had grown on him like a wayward sekkhoi branch, curling around him and sinking her tender thorns deep into his soul. Although she wasn’t far away, he felt her absence keenly. He’d gotten used to her steely, straight-as-an-arrow demeanor, and the mysteries contained within her strong, beautiful, flawed form stirred a special kind of madness in him.

She was a creature from a forbidden world; a walking contradiction. She fought like a demon, and yet her body carried the marks of suffering.

Sometimes, she was strong. Sometimes, she was fragile and curious.

An enigma.

His enigma.

Screw the clan elders and their rigid traditions. It was there and then that Ares decided he wanted to possess the human. He already felt a sense of affinity with her, and when he got the chance, he would carefully tease the secrets from inside her head. Then he would explore her fascinating body slowly, deliberately, taking his time.

What a rare catch she was.

He needed to make this quick. If the Corrupted were coming out of the very body of the ship, then none of them were safe. Calexa could fight, but she couldn’t fend off hundreds of infected Naaga.

Three of the Corrupted streaked toward them, moving with unnatural speed.

Ares was faster. He surged forward, catching two of the creatures in the broad arc of his wings. Brutally sharp talons sank into their chests, impaling and immobilizing them.

He went to work, using bare hands and clawed fingers to tear heads from bodies. As the Naaga perished, the silver substance—the very same ilverium he wielded—drained from their bodies, returning to the whole.

Theirs was a bloodless death, because the only thing keeping them alive—if that state could even be called living—was metal.

Behind him, the silence of his clan-brothers spoke volumes. Fierce warriors in their own right, they now regarded him with horror, for he had truly become a monster.

But his actions had opened up a path.

“Get to the hold!” he roared, dropping to his knees. He slammed his fist into the floor. Ilverium swirled upward like a living vortex, holding back the remaining Corrupted.

Maki didn’t waste time. “Get your asses into gear, brothers.” As he passed, he placed his hand on Ares’s shoulder. “Can the aliens be trusted?”

“I can’t speak for the others,” Ares answered, “but my human is infallible. She will return us to Khira. She has given her word.” He couldn’t help the note of pride that crept into his voice, even as he concentrated on keeping the Corrupted at bay.

Aethra’s curses, this was getting tiring. Even this new Drakhin body of his wasn’t infused with limitless power, and he was beginning to grow weary.

“She has guarded your body-copy as fiercely as a Vradhu Hunter,” Maki said quietly, before leaving Ares’s side.

For some reason, the thought warmed his ilverium-tainted heart, even as the strength was sucked from him. All of a sudden, he was barely in control of the metal storm he’d created.

As he thought of Calexa, the terrible hunger inside his chest grew, and he knew what he needed most.

Vir. Her essence. It would sustain him, make him stronger. He didn’t just want to possess her, he needed to devour her.

But he was a newly made Drakhin, and as far as knew, his kind no longer existed on Khira. He did not know the rules of consuming vir. He had not studied Drakhin lore as extensively as one of the clan scholars.

What if he killed her?

His ilverium vortex weakened just a little, allowing several of the Corrupted to break free. They surged toward him, just as Ares felt minute vibrations in the floor.

Footsteps.

Not Vradhu. Not human. Not Corrupted. The rhythm was different. There was only one other species onboard this destroyer.

Naaga. Living ones.

They must have found a way past his barriers.

This was troublesome. The Naaga always carried some sort of infernal poison. They could ruin everything.

Ares growled in frustration.

His limbs grew heavy. He dropped his wings, curling them over his back like a shell. His arms quivered. Still, he continued to manipulate the essence of the ship, binding the Corrupted Naaga with thick ilverium ropes.

His body’s stamina might be waning, but Ares’s strength went far beyond the physical. He tapped into the deep reserves of willpower that lay buried beneath memories of cold, hard survival in the Highfold.

He was one of the poor wretches banished to the wildlands of the Ardu-Sai after his ankhata failed to emerge. If a Hunter’s black markings didn’t appear by the age of manhood, it was customary to send him alone into the wild, with only a war-spear for protection, in the hope that sheer stress would force the change.

A Hunter without ankhata was useless, because until the black markings emerged, a Hunter’s tail-barb had no sting.

Almost all of the Unmarked that were sent to the wild never returned. Ares had been young and afraid, an untrained youth just past the cusp of manhood…

Who had survived the kratok migration and shocked the entire clan.

Alone.

They never expected him to return. None of the other Unmarked had ever returned, but Ares had, sporting a full set of the darkest, most unique ankhata they’d seen in generations.

It had been brutal. He’d almost died countless times, and when he returned to Malgara, he’d been filled with a deep, simmering anger.

That was the reason he’d never been able to stay in Malgara for long. The closeness, the politics, and the people had driven him mad, driving him back into the arms of the wild and blessedly silent Ardu-Sai.

Alone.

He had a reputation as a difficult, surly bastard. People stayed away from him, and that suited him just fine. Ever since he’d claimed his status as a Hunter, he had always worked alone.

But now he wanted another.

A human.

Ares rose, his fingers twitching as he sought the hilts of his krivera. It was force of habit, nothing more. Calexa needed the blades more than he did.

Gritting his teeth, he ran toward the horde. One of the monsters latched onto his arm, sinking its sharp teeth into his ilverium-tainted flesh.

Pain shot through his arm. Ares ignored it. He ripped a fine set of Drakhin claws through the thing’s neck.

I am coming, my makivari.

One way or another, he was getting off this fucking ship, and Calexa was coming with him.

I told you, use the lukara, and everything will become easy.

“Why don’t you do something useful for a change and stop throwing these infernal creatures at me?”

I cannot. They must be purged. It does not matter; they cannot kill you while you are bonded with me.

“They will kill my clan-brothers. They will kill my mate!” He flexed his wings and spun as a Corrupted one attacked him from behind. Caught in the powerful arc of his wings, the creature flew across the corridor.

Mate. Ares must have become delirious with weakness. The word slipped from his lips before he realized what he’d even said.

The ship’s only response was silence; a clear sign of her cold indifference.

She didn’t care about the humans or the Vradhu or the Naaga. All she seemed to want was Ares.

Never.

She wouldn’t have him. He already belonged to another.