I know, I know. Such thoughts are ridiculous. Orbs aren’t sentient – they’re just things.
Right?
Even in my head, I can detect the falseness in my thoughts. It’s like I’m trying to convince myself of that fact; even though I’ve long suspected otherwise.
When I activate my Orb-Weapon, I can feel it… As if that shard of Orb hungers for blood… Has a will of its own…
There’s something ungodly about the nature of Orbs… and I have a feeling we stumbled across it in that Scorp lair.
Gods… Just the thought of that dark, dank cavern makes me cringe with shame.
My own commander watched me turn tail and run. The other Aurelians were honorable. They stood their ground…
…they died screaming.
Now we carry the shame of survival.
But our shame extends further than that. Today made me realize that our Empire is a lie.
Ever since our people followed a human female – the Bonded Queen Jasmine – the Empire has become fractured. We loyal warriors are listening to the commands of a human female – a wench, who belongs in an Aurelian harem, not on the throne of our great Empire!
If we’d been guided by General Asmod – the late, great warrior whose valor is immortalized in legend – my company of warriors would have been victorious today. We’d have been together, toasting our victory over the Scorp, instead of my triad fleeing alone, filled with shame and regret.
Maybe there’s still hope. There are rumors that speak of a secret child – a strong Aurelian born of Asmod’s bloodline. I pray to the Gods that the rumors are true – and that this heir to Asmod’s legacy will soon rise from the confusion and agony our Empire has descended into and give us a true purpose.
The rules of honor and nobility – the rules our Empire is supposed to be built upon – have been proven to ring hollow. I see that now.
Only Asmod’s heir could lead us from this despair. Humanity is rebelling against the protection of the Aurelian Empire, casting off Aurelian rule in all corners of the universe. How can we burden the shame of our child-like wards choosing to turn away from us?
There was once a time when the Aurelian Empire took slaves. There was a time when humanity was our possession, not our squabbling child. Once, we Aurelians were strong. We guided the universe, and our will was absolute.
“The old times will live again,” I snarl, and with those words I feel my strength and courage coming back to me.
When I imagine taking and owning a human harem, the thoughts of the horror and fear I’d felt in the Scorp nest – when those beasts ripped my brethren apart – become less sharp.
Coward.
The thought suddenly rings in my mind.
Back in the caverns, when I’d told my triad to run, we ran.
Everything I believed – or thought I believed – melted away in an instant.
This was our first fucking week of our hundred years of service – the century of duty that every Aurelian pledges to his Empire. We’d been armed, equipped, and trained – and out there to fulfil our obligation for less than a week…
…and now every other member of our company has died. My triad are alone. Right now, as we flee through space, we might as well be as dead as the rest of them.
The rest of them – a whole company of fresh-faced Aurelian warriors. Many were new to the Aurelian Empire. Some were veterans, hand-picked to lead the new recruits. In the end, though, it did not matter.
They all died the same way.
When I chose to run, the teachings of a lifetime crumbled. Everything I’d learned as part of the Empire shattered.
I’d been taught from birth to be strong – to never disobey my commander and to be brave in the face of battle.
I’d broken all three of those tenants within minutes of encountering the Scorp – and, to my shame, it’s the only reason we’re still alive.
Now, everything is gone. The rest of our company. Our honor. Our faith in the Empire.
My triad and I are done protecting humanity from the threat of Scorp. It’s time to claim our birthright, instead. It’s time to turn our backs on the weak and self-serving teachings of Queen Jasmine’s Empire and look to the old ways instead.
And the oldest way is the simplest one – the purpose all Aurelians are born for:
To find our fated mate.
The Bond. That’s what forges together three Aurelian warriors – to turn three individuals into a triad. It’s why Conan, Augustus and I can hear each other’s voices in our heads. Feel each other’s emotions. In the heat of battle, we forged a connection deeper than blood.
There’s one more person out there who is destined to share the Bond – our fated mate.
The one human female in all the universe who is coded to our DNA – to our souls.
She, too, can join our Bond. That’s what binds us to our fated mate.
It’s also the only way our dying species can grow and prosper – because only our fated mate can bear our children.
All Aurelians are born male. Without a fated mate, when an Aurelian is close to death the only chance for him to continue his lineage is to enter a cryo-chamber and produce a single clone; gleaned from his DNA.
But that can only happen if he’s close enough to medical facilities capable of performing the cloning process; and they are few and far between.
This is why, over the last thousands of years, our species has dwindled. Most Aurelians die in combat – and as such, never have the chance to be cloned. For that reason, despite our long lifespans, our people are slowly dying out.
Just think of our own company – all those warriors who died beneath the ground in that Scorp nest. They’ll never be cloned or resurrected. Their bloodlines are gone from our species
