Thriexa POV

  Mother?

  I am here, child.

  I sat on the edge of the bed in my small, sterile room, closing my eyes as I focused on the connection between us. The silence of the facility surrounded me, but in my mind, my mother’s presence was warm and steady.

  What have you learned? she asked.

  Jace is cautious, but he is not unkind. He seeks the truth, not out of cruelty, but because he wishes to protect his people. He is driven by a need to understand what he does not yet know.

  And what have you learned about Agent Meyer? I asked my mother.

  He is different. He is skeptical, always calculating. He follows protocol rigidly, but he is not closed-minded. He observes carefully, but I do not yet know if he seeks to understand or to expose. However, his intentions are not to harm. He is driven by duty, not malice.

  They are intelligent, I mused. They are men of duty, but they are not without reason. Jace is led by curiosity, by a desire to uncover what is hidden. He asks questions with purpose, not just to confirm his suspicions but to truly understand.

  My mother muses, Agent Meyer, on the other hand, is guarded. He follows his training, relying on what he knows to assess what he does not. He is hesitant to trust, but he is not without logic. Neither one moves without thought.

  There was a pause in our mental conversation before my mother asks. What do you intend to do next?

  I hesitated before answering, though I had already made my decision. Jace will be a friend to our people. I believe he can be trusted. He listens, and he weighs his words before he speaks. He does not act rashly, nor does he seek to dominate. Because of this, I will tell him our story.

  That is a great responsibility, Thriexa, my mother reminded me. You must be careful with what you share and when you share it.

  I will be. But if we are to build trust, we must start somewhere.

  I could feel my mother’s approval, even though she remained silent for a moment longer. Then, Very well. Proceed as you see fit. But tread carefully.

  I opened my eyes, exhaling softly. The choice had been made. Soon, Jace would learn the truth about our people.

  Mother, what personal things have you learned about Agent Henry Meyer? If I was to convince Jace of my abilities, I would need proof.

  He has a daughter, a young child named Robin. He thinks of her often, though he keeps that part of himself guarded. He is also divorced, though there is no bitterness in his heart when he recalls his former partner. His mind is disciplined, but his emotions are not absent.

  I considered this. This could be useful. If I could tell Jace something that Henry had never shared, he would have no choice but to believe in what I could do.

  As I let my thoughts settle, the door to my room opened. I turned my gaze toward it just as Jace stepped inside, his usual composed expression in place. He studied me for a moment before speaking.

  “Would you like to speak outside again today?” he asked, his tone even, though there was a trace of curiosity in his eyes. He wanted to see if I would continue where we left off yesterday.

  Jace Strickland POV

  I led Thriexa outside once more, the crisp air and warm sunlight filtering through the towering palm trees. The world beyond the facility was a stark contrast to what we had just left behind—where inside was cold, confined, and sterile, out here was open, untamed, and alive.

  Just like the day before, guards stood at a distance, stationed in a wide perimeter around us. Their presence was intentional—not to block our movement, but to remind both of us that this was being monitored. Their hands rested near their weapons, not raised, not aimed, but never far from readiness.

  I could feel their unease. They weren’t used to standing back, to giving something—or someone—they didn’t trust this much space.

  Thriexa walked beside me in silence, her posture steady, as if she didn’t even notice the men watching her every move. But I knew she did. She noticed everything.

  When we reached the clearing, she finally slowed, taking a deep breath as her gaze lifted to the sky. There was no hesitation in her movements this time, no tentativeness like before. She wasn’t just standing in the sunlight now—she was claiming it.

  I should have kept walking. Should have let her take her moment without staring.

  But I didn’t.

  Her violet eyes softened as she took in the open expanse above, the warmth of the sun spilling across her face, catching the edges of her hair and turning it almost silver where the light touched. The faintest breeze stirred through the air, lifting a few loose strands away from her face before settling them back against her cheek.

  She closed her eyes, tilting her head ever so slightly, as if savoring the feeling.

  And I caught myself watching her longer than I should have.

  I had spent years reading people—deciphering micro-expressions, spotting nervous ticks, peeling back layers of deception. But this? This wasn’t a tell. It wasn’t a strategy, wasn’t something crafted or controlled.

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  It was just… her.

  Unburdened. Still. Completely at ease despite the armed men standing just beyond the tree line, despite the tension in the air, despite everything.

  It was a strange thing to admire. But I did.

  “You alright?” I asked, clearing my throat as I forced my focus away from her and back to the reason we were here.

  She opened her eyes and turned to me, and for the briefest second, a small, knowing smile crossed her lips—fleeting but unmistakable.

  “Yes,” she said simply. Her voice was steady, but something about it felt lighter.

  She held my gaze a moment longer before turning back toward the sky, and I realized something unsettling.

  The sun had touched her skin, but the warmth I felt had nothing to do with the heat.

  She took a slow breath, her violet eyes scanning the open sky before she turned to me. “I will explain our story to you,” she said, her voice steady, “but I ask that you wait until I am finished before asking your questions.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You already assume I’ll have a lot of questions.”

  A small smile touched her lips. “I know you will. You are a seeker of truth, and truth invites questions.”

  She wasn’t wrong. I had a million things I wanted to ask, but I could tell this was important to her. She wanted control over how she told her story, and I was willing to give her that.

  “Alright,” I said, nodding. “I’ll hold my questions—for now.”

  Her shoulders relaxed slightly, as if she had expected me to push back. “Thank you. And for the record, I enjoy your questions. They show that you are trying to understand, not just to interrogate.”

  That was an interesting way of putting it. I had spent years questioning people, but it was rare for anyone to actually appreciate it. I studied her for a moment, then gestured toward a shaded bench along the walkway. “Let’s sit. You have my full attention.”

  She inclined her head and took a seat, her hands resting lightly in her lap. I remained standing for a moment longer, watching the way the sunlight caught in her lilac hair before I finally sat beside her.

  “Start from the beginning,” I said. “I’m listening.”

  She nodded, satisfied. “My story begins a long time ago on the planet Aizilaha…”

  Thriexa’s voice softened, taking on a melodic quality as she spoke of Aizilaha. Her words painted a vivid portrait of a world unlike anything I could imagine.

  “Aizilaha was a paradise,” she began, her gaze distant, as if she were seeing her home planet through the haze of memory. “Its skies shifted with the light of three suns, casting hues of amber, violet, and gold over its surface. Each nation thrived in harmony with its surroundings. The Brozock lived in fiery unity with the volcano, Broz. The Klaro found solace and safety in the towering, crystalline peaks of the Klarious Mountains. And the Bedzut adorned the Zut Valley with trees that blossomed in shades of pink, like a perpetual spring.”

  Her voice caught slightly, and she paused, glancing at me as if weighing whether to continue. When I gave a small nod of encouragement, she went on. “The Zetill lived beneath the mountains, in vast caves illuminated by bioluminescent crystals. The Bopro, guardians of the ancient forests, protected the balance of life and technology in Aizilaha. Then there were the Luxor of the deserts, resilient and strong under the searing heat, and the Topzell, their canyon homes echoing with laughter and life. The Aurra—my people—flourished in the purple meadows, where flowers as vibrant as the stars covered the land.”

  Her expression softened, the corners of her lips curving upward. “And the Jaret nation—masters of the sea—built their lives along the endless shores, their songs carried by the wind over the waves.”

  For a moment, I almost forgot where we were. Her description was so vivid, so heartfelt, that I could almost see the world she spoke of.

  I remained silent, resisting the urge to interrupt. She had asked me to wait, to listen. So I did.

  Her smile faded. “Then a meteorite,” she said, her tone heavy with grief. “It tore through the skies and crashed into our planet, sending waves of destruction rippling across the surface. The impact was catastrophic, but it was the aftermath that doomed us. The atmosphere began to heat unnaturally, and our home, so full of life, became hostile to it.”

  I couldn’t look away. Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with sorrow—as though she had carried this story for centuries. “The nations united,” she continued. “Under the guidance of the Aurra, we pooled our knowledge and resources. The greatest minds of Aizilaha worked together to build a space station capable of saving our people.”

  I remained silent, resisting the urge to interrupt, letting her continue her story as she had asked.

  “We had no choice but to leave. We took to the stars, leaving behind everything we knew, everything we loved. In honor of our shared loss and new journey, we renamed ourselves the Eova—the Travelers.”

  I felt a pang of sympathy. Losing a home, a planet… I couldn’t fathom that kind of pain.

  I remained silent, holding back the question that sat on the tip of my tongue. She had asked me to listen, to hear her story uninterrupted. So I did.

  “For a time we found a new home,” she continues, her tone lighter. “We settled on a nearby planet, one that offered safety but never felt like home. Generations passed, and we began to notice something remarkable about ourselves. On this new planet, the Eova discovered an ability to adapt—to change our forms to better suit our environment. We could walk without protective suits, adjust to gravity, and even mimic the forms of other species.”

  Her voice grew stronger, tinged with pride. “But we always kept one thing unchanged—our nation’s colors. These we wore to honor Aizilaha, to remind ourselves of who we were and where we came from.”

  “Why didn’t you stay?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

  Her gaze turned wistful. “Because we knew it wasn’t truly our home. The Eova had become wanderers. It was in our blood to move on. So we did.”

  She fell silent, her story complete for now. I stared at her, my mind racing. Her words were extraordinary—too extraordinary. It was a compelling story, deeply emotional, but my instincts nagged at me. Was this the truth, or just an elaborate fabrication?

  If this was true, it changed everything. The weight of her words settled over me like a heavy blanket. What could Earth mean to her people? To us?

  “That was… incredible,” I admitted, watching her closely. “But you have to understand how impossible it all sounds. A whole civilization, traveling the stars, adapting to new worlds? It’s the kind of thing out of myths.”

  Thriexa tilted her head slightly, as if she had expected my hesitation. Then, to my shock, I heard her voice—not aloud, but in my mind.

  I anticipated your doubts, Jace.

  I stiffened, my breath hitching for just a moment. My eyes snapped to hers, and she was watching me with quiet patience, waiting for me to understand what had just happened.

  This is how I know my mother has not spoken to your partner yet, she continued in my mind. We do not need to speak aloud to communicate with one another.

  I swallowed, keeping my composure even as my mind scrambled to process what had just happened. “What—?” I started but stopped myself. Of course, she had already answered my question before I had spoken it.

  She offered a small, knowing smile. “And I can prove my abilities in another way. My mother has learned much about Henry Meyer, your partner. He has a daughter, Robin. She is young, and though he does not speak of her often, he thinks of her frequently. He is also divorced, but he holds no bitterness toward his former partner.”

  I exhaled slowly, my pulse steady but my mind racing. There was no way she could have known that. None. I had worked with Henry for years, and he never spoke about his personal life with strangers. And yet, here she was, saying it like it was a fact she had always known.

  “I told you I would not lie to you,” Thriexa said softly, her voice carrying a quiet confidence. “Now, do you believe me?”