Wanderer Ch 26: A Fathers Warning, He Who Made It All Make Sense!

(Nythera)

The twin moons of Nythera hung high in the night sky, casting an eerie silver glow over the jagged cliffs and shadowy forests of the avian people who called the planet home. The air was crisp, filled with the faint rustling of the wind through the high branches of the night-trees. A fire crackled at the center of a rocky outcrop, its flames dancing and casting long shadows over the black-feathered figures seated around it.

A father and son sat opposite one another, the older figure hunched slightly, his wings folded neatly at his back. His crimson eyes reflected the firelight as he gazed up at the stars, his hooked, avian beak giving his face a sharp, predatory edge. His son, much smaller and less weathered by time, mirrored the gesture, his youthful face lit with curiosity as he watched his father with an eager intensity.

"The stars," the father began, his voice low and gravelly, "are not as empty as they seem." He gestured upward with a clawed hand, his black feathers glinting faintly in the moonlight. "Beyond what we see, beyond the reach of our wings, there are things out there, Kael. Creatures—some so vast they dwarf entire planets, and others so small they could sit in the palm of your hand yet hold power that could shatter worlds."

Kael leaned forward slightly, his red eyes glimmering with fascination. He had heard stories of the cosmos before, whispered tales exchanged between hunters in the shadows of the forests. But his father's voice carried a weight that made the tales feel far closer, far more real.

"The galaxy is vast," the father continued, "and filled with dangers our people cannot even begin to comprehend. But among all the terrors that scour the stars, there is one kind of being that stands above the rest. The Neryssai." His tone grew darker, almost reverent, as he spoke the name.

Kael's feathers ruffled slightly at the sound of the word. The Neryssai—he had heard of them only in fragments, whispered in hushed tones by the elders. Beings so powerful and mysterious that even their name carried an air of the forbidden.

"No one knows where they come from," the father said, his gaze fixed on the heavens. "No one knows what they truly are. Some believe they are born from the heart of collapsing stars. Others say they are cosmic echoes, the remnants of some ancient force long forgotten. But whatever they are, they are not like us."

He leaned closer to the fire, his red eyes narrowing. "The Neryssai can absorb cosmic rays, draw in the very energy of the stars themselves. Each one wields a power unique to them—a gift, or perhaps a curse. They wander the galaxy, untethered, unstoppable. They answer to no one."

Kael's beak parted slightly as he whispered, "What do they want?"

The father shook his head slowly. "Who can say? Some think they seek meaning in their endless wandering. Others believe they are searching for something lost to them. But what matters, Kael, is not what they want. What matters is what we must do if they ever come here."

The boy's wings twitched slightly, and he tilted his head, waiting for his father to continue.

"Run." The word fell like a stone into the quiet night, heavy and final. "If ever the Neryssai descend upon our world, we cannot hope to stand against them. Their power is beyond anything we could imagine. We are but shadows beneath their light." He paused, his gaze locking onto his son. "Do you understand me, Kael? You stay away from them. You do not fight them. You do not reason with them. If they come, you take flight and do not look back."

Kael nodded slowly, his feathers flattening against his neck in a sign of submission. But deep within, as he looked up at the endless expanse of stars, a different resolve took shape. His father's words filled him with dread, but they also sparked something else—a burning defiance. He couldn't accept the idea of running, of living in fear of beings who believed themselves untouchable.

He wouldn't say it aloud—his father would never understand—but Kael silently made a vow to himself. He would not run. He would not bow. One day, he would find a way to bring these so-called gods to their knees. He would be the first to take from them what they so arrogantly hoarded—their power, their secrets, their very essence.

The fire crackled and popped, breaking the silence between them. The father, unaware of his son's quiet rebellion, turned back to the flames. "The galaxy is vast, Kael," he murmured. "Our people have survived by knowing our place in it. Remember that."

Kael nodded again, his expression unreadable. But as he looked back up at the stars, his red eyes glinted with something his father couldn't see—a spark of ambition, a hunger for answers, and the first whispers of rebellion.

Above them, the stars of Nythera continued to shimmer, oblivious to the tiny, winged figures below. Yet somewhere, out in the vast reaches of space, the Neryssai drifted, their paths unknown, their power unimaginable. And for the first time in generations, the seeds of a challenge to their dominion were sown.

***

(Thalassa)

The energy was draining from me faster than I could comprehend. I could feel it, slipping away like water through my fingers, no matter how tightly I tried to hold on. My body felt heavy, almost foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. I blinked, trying to clear the haze from my vision, but it was no use. The small ships surrounded us like a swarm of gnats, their coordinated movements mocking in their precision.

I glanced down at my hand, at the tiny speck of life standing there—him. The little man. The one I had gone through so much trouble to capture, the one who had inexplicably sparked something within me that I couldn't quite explain. He was important. I didn't know why, but I felt it in the core of my being. Without him, none of this made sense.

I couldn't let them take him.

"Stay still," I murmured, though I doubted he could hear me. My voice was barely audible even to myself, and the effort it took to speak made my head swim. Still, I hoped he understood. If I dropped him now, if he fell into the void of space... I didn't want to think about it.

Around me, the ships moved closer, their formation tightening like a noose. Their leader's voice echoed in my mind, deep and venomous, promising to strip us of everything we were. My lip curled in defiance, but the rage I wanted to feel was smothered by the crushing weight of exhaustion. My body wasn't responding the way it should. My power, the energy that had always been a part of me, was being siphoned away, leaving me vulnerable. Weak.

Unacceptable.

I turned my head sluggishly, searching for Eclipsa. She floated nearby, her pale form stark against the dark expanse of space. For a moment, I thought she was fine—Eclipsa never looked bothered by anything, after all. But then I saw them. The wires.

Thin, shining strands of metal coiled around her body, wrapping her arms, her legs, her torso. She struggled, her movements slow and strained, and her crimson eyes, usually so vibrant, were dull. My sister, the one who laughed in the face of destruction, who relished in chaos, looked... defeated.

"No," I whispered, the word barely leaving my lips.

The wires tightened, pulling her closer to one of the ships. Her head lolled forward, and I realized with a jolt that she was unconscious. Eclipsa. My chest tightened. She was so much more than my sister—she was my only constant in this vast, empty universe. The thought of losing her made the edges of my vision blur, my pulse pounding in my ears.

I tried to move, to reach for her, but my arm felt like lead. The ships swarmed closer, their glow casting eerie shadows over her limp form. One by one, they began wrapping her in more wires, pulling her further from me.

"Eclipsa!" I tried to shout, but my voice came out as a strained croak. I reached for her again, my hand trembling, but the energy wasn't there. I was fading, and fast.

"No," I said again, this time with more force. My head swam, and the world around me tilted dangerously. I looked back down at my palm, at the tiny speck of a man who stood there, staring up at me with what looked like fear and confusion.

I clenched my fingers slightly, cradling him more protectively. I need you. The thought echoed in my mind, unspoken but clear. If they took him, if they took Eclipsa... it would all be over.

But my body wouldn't listen. My strength was gone, drained by whatever foul technology these pests had devised. My knees buckled—or at least, it felt like they did, though I was still floating in the void. My vision blurred further, the stars around me dimming. The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was Eclipsa's pale form, disappearing into the mass of wires and ships.

"N-no," I managed to whisper one last time. Then everything went black.