Although I would never see normally again, Rogue did a phenomenal job with the implant. As long as I wore my optical aid, my vision range was quadrupled compared to before, just like its precision at close range. I had been blind for so long that to me, what I saw appeared normal. It was only when Reaper took me on dream walks—a virtual world psychically created—that I would see the difference with reality. How odd that an illusion would be more precise than the real world. My vision was still quite blurry in comparison, as if I was seeing things through a dream or underwater. But it allowed me to function normally, and without pain; something I had never thought possible.
Reaper had been right about people seeking my knowledge about the Creckels. In the months following our arrival on Khepri, I was appointed as the Creckel Ambassador. I would serve as liaison between Dreija and other species of the Coalition, many of whom expressed the desire to resume earlier talks before the war about potential tourism opportunities and trades with them. Dreija overflowed with resources coveted by many not foolish enough to try and trespass, seeing how fiercely territorial the Creckels were. But beyond that, I would also help create a proper program to teach the Creckel language as well as put together the Creckel Cultural Center that would give Coalition members an insight into their culture and history.
At the same time, Reaper had gotten his wish. It had taken him quite a bit of time before confessing he wished to be in charge of something where he could prove that he was more than just a badass Warrior. With Stran going all out training the Horned Creckels in combat techniques and the most effective ways to use their different assets, we’d all assumed Doom would be in charge of the Creckel Division and of giving them tactical training. But that honor befell my mate instead.
It made sense, considering the close bond, strengthening every day, between Brees and my mate and the fact that Stran was training her to become the Horned Creckels’ Matriarch and their first Battle Maiden. Over time, I expected as strong a friendship to grow between her and Reaper as the one shared by Stran and Doom.
While Stran would focus on the Horned Creckels’ combat abilities, in his new function, Reaper would teach them about everything else, from Coalition and enemy vessels and weaponry, to battle strategies, military language, symbolisms, best practices, etc. For his part, as the expert in fighting alongside a Creckel, Doom was now in charge of training other Xian Warriors and Dragons in that art. It centered mainly around scenarios that gave them a vividly realistic experience.
We were thriving on Khepri. We were happy and free. With the vast lands that were granted to the Creckels with plenty of game to hunt, my companions began reproducing again. Brees and I became pregnant at the same time, although her little Drax was born two months before my own son, Solar. Like her mother had done with me, Drax took to my son with a protective possessiveness that melted my heart.
Sitting on one of the two plateaus of the Dragons Rise, my back resting against the muscular chest of my mate, we watched the fiery colors of the sun going down while a few of his Dragon brothers ahead were flying around, making jaw-dropping aerial acrobatics.
“You were right,” I whispered as if speaking too loudly might break the magic of the moment. “The sundown from this viewpoint is a mesmerizing view worth sharing.”
“But only if it is followed by a sunrise,” Reaper replied teasingly before kissing the dark scales of the beautiful mantle alongside my neck, proof of our bonding.
“And only if you are by my side,” I said.
“Always, my love. Always.”
THE END.
Also by Regine
Doom (Xian Warriors 1)
Legion (Xian Warriors 2)
Anton’s Grace (Braxians 1)
The Mistwalker
Escaping Fate (Veredian Chronicles Book 1)
About Regine
USA Today bestselling author Regine Abel is a fantasy, paranormal and sci-fi junky. Anything with a bit of magic, a touch of the unusual, and a lot of romance will have her jumping for joy. Hot alien warriors meeting no-nonsense, kick-ass heroines give her warm fuzzies.
Before devoting herself as a full-time writer, Regine had surrendered to her other passions: music and video games! After a decade working as a Sound Engineer in movie dubbing and live concerts, Regine became a professional Game Designer and Creative Director, a career which has led her from her home in Canada to the US and various countries in Europe and Asia.
Pastfinders
With a little bit of luck….
Mercury Chancer came to the planet Tellus as a member of an archaeological team investigating ancient alien ruins. The archaeologists have to work fast because a terraforming flood will soon put the ruins under water, but Mercury isn’t worried. She has a psychic gift that changes the laws of probability, bringing her accidental luck which should help the team.
Boerdelim “Haze” Tel-Hazon works for the Office of Planetary Protection. An official visit to dig site leads him to Mercury—and a strange, shapeshifting alien animal. Haze is shaken when a long-forgotten trauma from his past comes alive. With Mercury’s luck and help from the sympathetic alien animal, he just might survive!
Just when Haze didn’t think things could get any worse, the archaeologists make a stupendous discovery—and greedy enemies take notice. When the archaeologists prove they are not the defenseless scientists they pretend to be, Haze has to wonder—will flood, foes, and the resurgent past defeat them, or will luck and love win the day?
1 Rift
Boerdelim Tel-Hazon was the only passenger in this small car of the landtrain. He appreciated being able to relax in solitude. In the next few days he wouldn’t have much solitude or leisure. But he looked forward to the discomforts of fieldwork. It had been too long since he’d last done that, in the younger days when he’d been called Haze—his star-traveling nickname.
He owned diplomatic luggage, capacious and polished, but today he had his well-used, old field backpack with him. It companionably occupied the other seat of his traincar. It was his longest life companion, but it had been ignored the last few years while he established his bureaucratic career with laserlike and lonely focus. Sometimes he wondered why he’d traded doing science across the stars for being a bureaucrat on his barren home world.
But Tellus wouldn’t be barren forever.
The landtrain skirted a lake that looked strikingly blue because it was lifeless—too new to be alive. The lake’s long-dry basin had been filled by comets towed from the outer solar system and flung down onto the planet’s face. The lake was destined to overflow into a dry old riverway, scouring out the channel to the sea, so the river could live again.
The recreation of the old river would begin in three days. That was why this trip had been approved by the Department of Planetary Protection. Offworld archaeologists were busy investigating ancient, alien ruins that would be flooded by the river. Visiting their field station, he’d make sure that as they closed their operation down ahead of the flood and transported artifacts out, they didn’t take precious biota too, or leave pollution behind.
That was why he was the bureaucrat he’d become, he told himself. Tellus was a world slowly but surely being terraformed. It needed to be accomplished with care for the sketchy native ecosystem, with care for newly seeded Earth biota, too. Commercial and offworld interests didn’t care. He did.