The throne of thorns writhed in response to Ares’s presence, its sharp ilverium tendrils curling around his arms and legs in a painful caress. Occasionally, they would penetrate his skin, burrowing beneath the surface like newly forming arteries, pulsating in response to the ship’s innate rhythm. The biometal could harden like stone or become as fluid as water with merely a thought. Ares was no longer a simple creature of flesh and bone and blood. The ever-shifting living metal had infiltrated his flesh and transformed him into a monster.

It was filthy magrel—unnatural metal—and his body was full of it. At this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was turning into one of those cursed Drakhin.

He was never supposed to have bonded with the Hythra’s semi-sentient networks. The ones chosen to pilot the ancient Drakhin ships—the only ones who were supposed to be compatible—were the Naaga.

Then Ares had stepped onboard, and everything had gone to shit. For some inexplicable reason, the ship had chosen him.

He didn’t know exactly how long they’d been trapped on this infernal ship. Without the seasons to guide them, time blended into an endless stream. He estimated they might have been here for an entire hunting season, but he couldn’t be sure.

The pain of discovery had been sharp, the lessons brutal, and the experience terrifying, but the bonding had given him power, and the Hythra’s thousand-odd Naaga residents—those who hadn’t been corrupted—had quickly learned not to mess with the Vradhu warrior who controlled the ilverium.

After he’d wiped out several hundred of them, they’d succumbed, answering all of his questions.

Ares had no problem killing the creatures that had so callously degraded his homeland. Now they carried out his bidding, having quickly understood that when Ares was displeased, he struck hard and fast.

The Vradhu were ruthless toward their enemies, and Ares was no exception.

He closed his eyes and extended his senses, becoming one with the ship. As soon as he’d discovered that the chair allowed him to control all compartments of the ship with merely a thought, he’d set about isolating the Naaga, cutting off entire sections of the ship by activating the giant ilverium-powered barrier doors.

He’d cut off their communication channels, too.

But for all his power, he couldn’t find a way to get off the ship. It was as the Naaga had said. There were no escape vessels. Those who set foot on the Hythra stayed on the Hythra.

They were trapped.

“What in Aethra’s cursed abyss have we caught now, my Lord Commander?” Maki’s booming voice dragged Ares out of his semi-trance, forcing him to open his eyes and peel his consciousness away from the destroyer’s vast networks.

Maki said the last part with a sardonic curl of his dark lips. He looked down at Ares, a strange combination of affection, pity, and partly concealed horror swirling in his black eyes. Ares understood that look all too well. To the Vradhu, technology was an impurity; an affront to their way of life.

“Idiot. That’s not my title,” Ares growled, hating the sound of his own voice. Whenever he sat in the command seat, which he’d mockingly named the throne of thorns after the prickly sekkhoi thickets that bordered his homeland, his voice changed, becoming deep and metallic. “I’m not one of those Naaga pyshtana.”

“I know, Ares.” Maki inclined his head, spreading his hands in an apologetic gesture. “I was only speaking in jest. You know me. My jests are rarely received well.”

“So it seems. There’s a reason you have not yet managed to find a suitable bed-partner. You of all people.” It was Ares’s turn to laugh, and his transformed voice filled the entire command pod. It was an eerie, unnatural sound, part Vradhu and part machine, imbued with the blood-curdling sorcery of the Drakhin.

“I’m a Hunter.” Maki shrugged. “Females don’t exactly gravitate toward our kind.”

“But you are of the Blood. That negates the usual excuses. I am surprised the females haven’t been throwing themselves at you like rabid pikki. You are only a little ugly.” He was no Breeder, but Maki was considered handsome by Vradhu standards.

“Good to see you still remember how to drag a man through the proverbial sekkhoi forest.” Maki feigned a hurt look. “Vradhu females are proud, complicated creatures. Even royal titles do not sway them.” He smiled, idly fingering the torc at his neck as complicated thoughts danced behind enigmatic black eyes. “But enough with the character assassination. I came here to ask the Hythra what she has dragged into the lower docks, and since you see what she sees and speak on her behalf, maybe you can sate my curiosity.”

“Ah.” Ares closed his eyes again and accessed the Hythra’s surveillance feed, seeing and sensing everything, like some sort of fucking oracle.

In the dim background of his thoughts, the ancient destroyer whispered incessantly, taunting him with seductive memories of fallen civilizations and long-dead kings. She told of how the Drakhin and the Vradhu had once counted each other as kin.

That was ancient history now. Ares ignored the voices inside his head and focused.

The alien ship he’d captured appeared in his mind’s eye. It was a tiny thing, barely bigger than a Naaga transport pod. Although it was symmetrical, its grey body was blunt-nosed and bulky—almost brutal in its construction—and various box-like appendages protruded from its metal skin. At the rear were two raised rectangular structures that were separated from the main body of the vessel. These must be the energy sources.

“It is a curious thing. Just appeared out of nowhere, and it doesn’t match anything in the Hythra’s memory. I found it drifting in space under its own inertia. They didn’t resist the attraction field at all. I think it has taken serious damage.”

“An unknown floating object.” Maki raised an eyebrow. “A Naaga commander would have obliterated it without asking questions. A Vradhu elder would have avoided it at all costs. A Drakhin…”

“I am not Naaga, brother, nor am I an elder, and I am certainly not Drakhin.” He returned Maki’s wry look. “In this case, I think the elders would forgive us for violating clan law. We need an escape vessel. These aliens have one, even if it is a half-broken wreck.”

“But…” A shadow of frustration crossed Maki’s face. “What about you? You’ve tried to break the bond countless times and failed. It would be a great shame to return without our generation’s only khefe. You are needed on Khira.”

“The Naaga are growing my new body as we speak. If the Hythra refuses to release me, I will just step into another body.”

“Is it that simple? How can you trust that they will re-make you correctly? They’re treacherous bastards.”

“They have already seeded the temundra with my bone-blood, and Seke and Radu are keeping close watch. I have seen them grow their own kind. It works. Whatever body comes out of there, I will take it. If I can transfer my consciousness to it, then so be it. If the process fails, I will stay and destroy every last one of those white-eyed devils while you escape. Aethra knows I have the means.”

Maki shook his head. “You are a braver soul than I, Ares-rai. Too curious for your own good. That’s what father always said. Perhaps that’s why the Hythra chose you.”

“Speculation is pointless,” Ares said softly, not wanting to be reminded of the horror he’d felt when he’d first realized what was happening—when the Hythra had started bonding with him. “One cannot change what has already been done. Just pray these newcomers have what we need.” Steeling himself, he prepared to disentangle from the sekkhoi throne.

Release me. The thought exploded from his mind with malevolent force. As if to taunt him, the chair’s ilverium limbs shifted and tightened. He could feel the Hythra’s presence at the back of his mind; silent, insidious, and all-powerful.

What do you want from me?

As always, she didn’t answer.

The ancient destroyer was an enigma. When Ares was a child, his father’s father, Verthe the Wise, had told him stories about the black dagger in the sky.

If we saw it at dawn, we knew the Hunters would return with a good kill. If it was still there at dusk, it would be a bitterly cold night.

It was the dagger Naktar, the Dark One, had thrown at Aethra when they’d fought in the skies above Khira. She’d suspended it amongst the stars with her magic and banished her former lover to the Underdark for eternity.

Feh. In truth, that was just a fanciful mythtale. The Ancient Stones had revealed the real origins of the black dagger. She was a ship from another world. A magrel thing. A Drakhin thing. Large enough to be visible from the surface of Khira and capable of great destruction.

And now Ares was bonded to her.

Each time he took the throne, it became harder and harder to detach. When he was out of the chair, he could only control the ilverium in his immediate surroundings, but when he sat in the chair…

That feeling of absolute power—of the Hythra becoming an extension of his mind and body—was terrifyingly intoxicating. Sometimes, he swore the Drakhin warship was intentionally teasing him, tempting him with dark promises of eternity.

Feh. Ares had no interest in such pointless things. What sort of delusional idiot would want to live forever?

Release me! He clenched his fists and pulled his arms upward. Slowly, the ilverium tendrils uncoiled and retreated. As Ares stood, the living metal uncurled from his torso and thighs, and the ilverium trapped beneath his skin became soft and pliant.

Once again, Ares was temporarily freed of the Hythra’s clutches. The writhing ilverium tentacles withdrew, shifting back into straight lines and sharp edges.

Once again, the command seat was just a chair.

“Gives me the chills every time.” Maki was looking at him strangely. “How is it that you are still in possession of your sanity, Hunter?”

“The Naaga succumb to corruption and madness because they are weak.” Ares retrieved his twin swords from their resting place at the foot of the throne. He shook himself, loosening his tense muscles. Whenever he sat for too long, the ilverium made his body feel heavy and sluggish. “I am Vradhu.”

He was Vradhu, and he would never succumb to the will of another.

“To the core.” In acknowledgment, Maki pounded his chest with his fist—a gesture of solidarity from one warrior to another. “I am sorry, Ares. I didn’t mean to belittle your circumstances. It’s just that my simple hunter’s brain sometimes struggles with the… strangeness of it all. Perhaps I am too Vradhu for these weird and modern times. Who would have thought our people would end up in such a predicament?”

Ares responded with a soft, derisive snort as he picked up his combat helmet. He didn’t need or want any pity from Maki. “Notify your pack, Maki-ku. I am going down to inspect this new acquisition myself, and I would appreciate the support of your men. As always, it is merely a request.” He would never presume to issue orders to Maki, who was of the Blood—the only Hunter who outranked him.

Neither could Maki tell Ares what to do, because Ares was khefe—a Hunter who worked alone.

But Maki was also his friend, and he never abused the privilege of his birthright. The Lord of the Two Clans dipped his head in assent. “You don’t even need to ask. I will send an advance guard down to secure the hold.”

“I would prefer that they do not approach the alien ship until I arrive.”

“Have some faith, Hunter. You think we cannot handle whatever is inside that tiny vessel?” Maki bared his teeth.

“It’s not that.” Ares slid the helmet over his head, obscuring his features. The display on the inside of his visor came to life, lurid green Naaga characters and numbers illuminating the screen. He strode across to the charging dock and selected a suit of light Drakhin battle-armor. Perhaps it was overkill, but it was better that he concealed himself this way. Maki’s warriors were spooked enough by his appearance already. There was no need to constantly remind them of his unnatural state.

The Vradhu were a superstitious people. After he’d transformed, many of them had flatly refused to look Ares in the eye.

“I caught it, Maki. You know what that means.” Hunter’s Rules. Ares entered the outfitting dock and stood with his arms extended by his sides and his tail raised. The Drakhin apparatus did its thing, its long metal arms bringing segments of flexible armor-plate close to his body. As the plates met, the strange scaly material joined together at the seams. It flexed and tightened, leaving just enough space for his trousers underneath. As was customary, he curled his long tail—which had been left exposed—around his left leg like a vine. “It was my prey. My catch. It is mine.”

The Vradhu were possessive by nature, especially when it came to the things they caught.

“For now.” Maki raised his war-spear and followed Ares as he made for the exit. “But we still don’t know what’s inside. If the occupants are hostile, then we will—”

“Do what is expected. I know. I would do the same.”

The Vradhu could be ruthless, too. After all, they’d been born and bred in the Ardu-Sai.