A mate. The only thing sweeter than the air I breathe. I know our mate is out there, somewhere in the universe – and I’m coming for you, my pet.
Something stirs inside me. The longing. The deep, constant, never-ending dissatisfaction in my life. Though I’m united with my blood-brothers – bonded to my triad by battle, not birth – I nevertheless still feel alone.
I know that until I prove myself worthy to the Orb-God, my life will have no meaning. I’ll never experience the only true bliss possible to an Aurelian of the Scorp-Blood tribe; that of siring and raising children. I need to find us a challenge worthy of our Orb-God, so he can grant us a mate.
But not yet. I am the leader of my triad. It is I who decides when we are ready to go into our most dangerous battle. We have a mission to accomplish first, and then we can ask ourselves if we are ready to accept the challenge.
I growl: “Tomorrow, we secure a home for our tribe. Once we’ve brought our tribe away from the cursed jungle and towards the safety of the salt sea – once we are settled – we can prove ourselves to the Orb-God.” My voice is cold with finality, but it almost sounds like I’m trying to convince myself as much as Darok or Hadone.
A surge of fear comes through the Bond from Darok – but it’s nothing compared to the eagerness that spills through the Bond from Hadone. My finger trail against the hilts of my twin curved daggers, reassured by their weight as I’m caught between my triad’s fear, and fearlessness.
“Tomorrow,” Darok nods solemnly. “In that case, let us enjoy this meal – for it might be one of our last” His words fill me with dark prophecy.
Hadone doesn’t share the sense of dread.
“Any meal could be our last,” he scoffs. “When we find a new home for our tribe, we’ll finally be able to fight and prove ourselves.” Hadone is eager as always for battle.
That’s his weakness – never backing down from a fight. I was the one who had to make the decision to leave our tribal home, after Hadone almost challenged the fish-eating Aurelians he’d confronted to a battle to the death.
In our tribe, a challenge is serious business – and those challenged are the ones who chose whether to fight unarmed, or with our people’s lethal Orb-Weapons.
I’d known which of those choices the fish-eaters would have made; because they’re experts in unarmed combat. I chose the shame of leaving our people, rather than give Hadone the chance to fight the fish-eaters; and most likely die at their bare hands.
I suspect Hadone considers that cowardice, but I have no shame in my decision. I’ll happily face death to prove myself worth of a mate; but I won’t waste my triad’s blood on a matter of tribal honor, no matter how badly the grief of what happened weighs heavy on Hadone’s head.
And I say ‘happily’ – but that’s not to say the thought of dying in the cold darkness of a Scorp lair doesn’t chill me. If I had my choice – not that any on our violent world do – I’d rather die beneath the warm sun, after an honorable battle; not in the claustrophobic confines of a Scorp nest.
But perhaps that is precisely why our Orb-God demands it of us – the price we pay for the right to claim our fated mate. Our God is a fickle one, who demands blood sacrifices as the price of our people’s future.
What a way to live. Each generation of warrior-triads must each bring our deity a sacrifice glorious enough to be deemed worthy. Then, the Orb-God opens a rift for the proven triad – to another place in time and space, anywhere in the universe. It’s there the triad will find their fated mate; and be allowed to bring her back to our jungle home.
Alarm suddenly flares through the Bond. Before I can even process the thought, I’ve already drawn my daggers – igniting the Orb-Blades and hearing the familiar, otherworldly hum of our people’s signature weapons.
Crafted from the same material as our deity, each Aurelian’s Orb-weapon is his most trusted companion – and my twin, hand-crafted daggers are no exception. A blade in each hand I turn, half-expecting to find a predator sneaking up on us.
My jaw drops when I see a strange light pulsing through the darkness instead.
It’s a light I’ve seen before – as I’ve witnessed other triads from my tribe prove themselves worthy to our Orb-God. It is the light of a portal opening – a rift right in the fabric of reality, leading to who-knows-where.
It can’t be!
“It’s a trap,” warns Hadone, as I instinctively walk towards the mysterious light. I don’t hesitate, even though his words ring as likely true.
It must be a trap. The only way to open a portal is by the blessing of our Orb-God, in return for a worthy sacrifice. We have not yet earned the right to such a blessing – for the opportunity to meet our fated mate.
So from where, and why, has this portal suddenly appeared?
The stars are above us here on our world, but through the rift, daylight pours in. It’s uncanny – ungodly, even – for it is the dead of night here and yet I see a foreign sun, pale and weak, through the tear in reality.
The otherworldly sun gives off a warm, golden light. I blink, drawn to this strange world that beckons to me through the gap in space and time.
As I draw closer, I see more. Instead of cave dwellings, barely visible from the surface, the world I now see is full of strange, unnatural structures; towering into the sky. Amid them, humans are scattering and fleeing through the gaps between these
