At the center of the shattered altar, carved with stars long dead and constellations no one remembers the names of anymore, the Void Dragon hangs suspended — chains of pale light wrapped tight around wings too weak to fight them off. Her scales, once deep as the black between stars, are dulled now, cracked in places, dimmed by however long she’s been kept like this.
Above her floats Prince Orion, golden armor catching light that isn’t there, his ships arranged in a slow, silent ring around the altar — the Sun Clan’s crest burning bright on every hull.
"Bow," he says, voice bored, like he’s said the word a thousand times already and expects nothing new.
The dragon lifts her head, slow, chains groaning with the effort, and dips it slightly — not enough. Never quite enough.
Orion’s mouth curls, unimpressed.
"Pathetic," he mutters, and lifts the artifact in his hand — a whip wound from strands of solidified starlight, humming faint and cruel.
He brings it down.
The dragon lets out a low groan, body flinching against the chains, wings twitching uselessly at her sides. Orion watches the reaction with something close to satisfaction, head tilting, savoring it a moment before lowering his arm again.
"Still nothing left in you to fight back with," he says, almost disappointed. "Shame. You used to be interesting."
He’s about to raise the whip again when one of his commanders drifts up beside him, armor catching the altar’s dim light, voice low and urgent.
"My Prince. A vessel just entered the outer gate."
Orion doesn’t even turn, still watching the dragon sag weakly against her chains. "And?"
"Lower Realm signatures detected aboard. Multiple."
That gets his attention.
He turns slow, golden eyes narrowing with sudden, sharp interest, the whip lowering to his side as a smile spreads across his face — the kind of smile that’s never once meant anything good for whoever it’s aimed at.
"Lower Realm rats," he says, savoring the words like a fine wine. "All the way out here." He glances back at the dragon one last time, chained and broken beneath him, then back toward the direction of the incoming ship.
"Well," he says, voice light, almost delighted. "Looks like I’ve got new toys to play with."
The ship jolts hard as we tear through the void gate, and suddenly realm 12 spreads out below us — pale light, distant structures, and way too many warships already turning our direction.
A voice crackles over comms, sharp and official. "Unidentified vessel. Land and surrender your ship, or we open fire."
The pilot goes white, hands shaking on the controls. "They mean it," he says, voice cracking. "Those are Sun Clan cruisers, they’ll actually blow us out of the sky—"
"Relax," I say, grabbing an ice tea from the little storage compartment I found earlier, cracking it open easy like none of this rattles me at all.
I walk to the door, pop it open, and step out into the open air of the ship’s hatch, looking down at the fleet spread out beneath us.
My eyes land on him first — Orion, standing tall on the deck of the lead ship, whip coiled loose in one hand, that same wicked smile stretched across his face like he already owns whatever happens next.
"Land," he calls up, voice smooth, amused. "Now."
He’s looking only at me, like nobody else on this ship matters at all.
Then my harem steps up beside me — Viperess, Frostine, Solnix, Demitress, Seraphina, all of them lining up shoulder to shoulder without a word needing to be said.
Orion actually flinches, just for a second, surprise flashing plain across his face at the sight of all of them standing there together.
Then the smile comes right back, wider this time, hungrier.
"Well now," he says, voice practically dripping with delight. "Looks like I’ll be taking custody of your maidens."
The system flickers, and something threads through me — faint, raw, aching. A pain signal, bleeding off the dragon chained somewhere down there, linked straight to Orion like his cruelty left a mark the system itself can read.
It hits something in my chest. Hot, immediate.
"You," I say, voice flat, staring down at him. "You’re the one who’s been torturing that dragon."
Orion blinks, caught off guard for half a second.
"You’re a coward," I go on, "who gets off hurting something chained up and helpless. That’s not power. That’s just pathetic."
One of his commanders actually flinches, glancing sideways at the prince like he can’t believe what he just heard. "Did he just—"
Orion’s face shifts fast, delight curdling straight into fury, jaw tight, whip creaking in his grip.
"Insolent rat," he snarls, all the amusement gone from his voice now. He turns sharp toward his fleet. "Fire on the ship. Disable it. And bring me the maidens — alive, unharmed. I want them in my chambers by nightfall."
The cruisers shift, weapons charging bright along their hulls.
Beside me, Frostine’s arms uncross slow, ice already curling faint around her fingers, eyes narrowed cold and sharp on Orion.
"His chambers," she says, voice dangerously calm. "How insulting."
Solnix steps forward, wings unfurling slow and golden, hands raised in that same calm, gentle way she always carries.
"Wait," she says, calling down toward the fleet, voice soft but carrying clear across the open void. "There’s no need for this. Let us speak, please — no one has to get hurt today."
I glance at her, then nod. "Go ahead."
She floats forward a little, solar light glowing warm around her, that quiet grace in every line of her. "Prince Orion," she says, gentle, reasonable, "whatever’s happened here, we didn’t come looking for a fight. If you’ll just listen—"
Orion cuts her off with a short, ugly laugh.
"Listen to what," he says, "a woman?" He waves a hand dismissive, already bored of her before she’s even finished. "Cute that you think your voice means anything here, little maiden. Females don’t negotiate in my realm. They kneel." He turns back to his commander like she hasn’t spoken at all. "Fire."
Solnix’s expression falters, just slightly, warmth flickering into something colder.
The cannons along the fleet’s hull begin to glow, charging bright, aimed straight at us.