Forbidden Fruit

Orion sat across from his father, posture relaxed but mind razor-sharp. He had come here with a simple purpose: to gauge his father's reaction.

And the moment he spoke the name—Hekatrya—he got exactly what he wanted.

Cassian's expression tightened. Not by much, just a flicker, a fractional delay in his usually seamless control. A pause, a hesitation—uncharacteristic for a man who had mastered the art of deception in both war and politics. But Orion had been raised to notice these things. And once seen, they couldn't be unseen.

A silence stretched between them, the air suddenly heavier.

Cassian's face smoothed over, regaining its usual unreadable calm. His hands, resting on the desk, remained still—no twitch of fingers, no subtle motion betraying unease. But Orion had already seen it.

His father knew.

"Where did you hear that name?" Cassian's voice was level, but Orion caught the shift in its weight. This wasn't casual curiosity—it was controlled restraint.

Orion didn't answer. He just waited.

 The briefest flicker of consideration—how much to say, how much to withhold.

Then, finally, his father exhaled, leaning back slightly. "You'll learn about it in the Special Candidates Program."

A confirmation. Not in the way Orion had expected, but a confirmation nonetheless.

"So, it's restricted knowledge," Orion pressed, keeping his tone neutral. "You know what it is, but you can't tell me?"

Cassian met his gaze evenly. "I don't have the authorization to explain it. If I do grant you access to it, the moment you access the classified archives, alerts will trigger. The Academy watches everything tied to Hekatrya." His voice hardened, and for the first time, Orion sensed something else beneath it—not just caution, but something colder. A quiet irritation.

Not directed at Orion.

Directed at the fact that even he, Cassian Reyes, was bound by these restrictions.

But Orion didn't take it as a warning to stop. He took it as something else entirely.

Don't you dare get caught looking.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. 

Orion considered his next move carefully. There were always ways to get information, even when it was locked away. Especially when it was locked away. But the fact that his father—one of the most powerful men in the Confederacy—was unwilling or unable to speak freely meant that this wasn't just classified. It was something else.

Something dangerous.

"Hekatrya," Orion said again, testing the word on his tongue. "It was discovered in the Raptures, wasn't it?"

Cassian's jaw tensed, but he didn't confirm or deny.

"I'll find out sooner or later," Orion continued, watching him. "But you already know what it is. You already know what it does."

Cassian's fingers finally moved, tapping once against the polished surface of his desk. A calculated motion, deliberate in its meaning. A signal.

"You're not wrong." Cassian admitted at last. 

His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now, something measured and sharp. 

And Orion realized then that this was the limit of what Cassian was willing to give him. Not because he didn't want to share more—but because he couldn't.

Not without consequences.

"I see," Orion said finally, leaning back in his chair. His mind was already racing, running through possibilities, connections. If the Academy had entire programs dedicated to it, if accessing the wrong archives could trigger alarms, if even his father was unwilling to speak on it openly—

Then Hekatrya wasn't just rare knowledge. It was forbidden knowledge.

Cassian studied him for a long moment. Then, as if coming to a decision, he gave a single nod.

"You'll have your answers soon enough," he said, standing. "Just be patient."

Orion held his gaze for a beat longer before rising as well.

Patience.

That was something he had never been particularly good at.

He inclined his head in a respectful nod before turning toward the door. As he reached for the handle, Cassian's voice stopped him one last time.

"Orion."

He turned back.

Cassian's expression was unreadable again, the momentary cracks in his composure sealed away. But his next words carried a weight that lingered.

"Some things are locked away for a reason."

Orion held his gaze, then gave a small, knowing smile.

And with that, he left.

Orion sat alone in his quarters, fingers tapping absently against the armrest of his chair. The conversation with his father played on repeat in his mind, each word dissected, turned over, and analyzed with the precision of a blade being sharpened.

His father hadn't just refused to tell him. That wasn't the interesting part. No, what mattered was why.

Cassian wasn't just keeping secrets—he was bound by something greater than authority, something woven into the very infrastructure of the Confederacy's most guarded knowledge.

That realization sent a slow pulse of adrenaline through Orion's veins.

The Special Candidates Program existed to mold the future elites of the Confederacy. It was more than just an academy track—it was an indoctrination pipeline, designed to cultivate the next generation of rulers, strategists, and warlords.

And yet, Hekatrya wasn't being openly taught, even to the privileged few.

Why?

His fingers stilled.

Control?

Hekatrya wasn't a tool to be given freely—it was something that had to be regulated. 

Orion exhaled, tilting his head back against the chair, staring at the ceiling as the pieces rearranged themselves into a sharper picture.

And if the Dominion had access to it for years, why hadn't they mastered it?

What stopped them?

His mind traced back through every account he had read, every whispered rumor. The Dominion was relentless in its pursuit of power, turning entire bloodlines into experiments, sacrificing generations for even the smallest edge in warfare.

And yet, here was something—something—that had eluded them.

Orion sat up suddenly, his breath steady but his thoughts racing.

Was that it?

Did it demand something they lacked—something only certain people could wield?

His gaze sharpened.

Was that why House Valken was erased?

Had they been the only ones who could truly use it?

Orion moved through the corridors with purpose, his steps measured, his mind a storm of questions. Cassian's warning still echoed in his head, but it wasn't enough to stop him. If anything, it had only fueled his determination.

He needed answers.

And he knew exactly who could provide them.

He found Aurelia standing near one of the observation decks, the faint glow of the city lights casting long shadows across the polished floors. She hadn't noticed him yet—or maybe she had and was waiting for him to speak first.

Orion didn't waste time. "Hekatrya."

The moment the word left his lips, Aurelia stilled. It wasn't a flinch, wasn't surprise—it was fear. 

Then, slowly, she turned to face him.

Her gaze was unreadable, but after a pause, she gave him a knowing look.

"You discovered this far in six days, Orion," she said quietly. "That's dangerous."

The weight of those words settled between them. Orion didn't back down. "Then let's move somewhere more secure."

Aurelia studied him for a moment longer before nodding.

---

The room she led him to was deep within the estate, an old chamber reinforced against surveillance—both digital and human. Only those with clearance even knew it existed.

Aurelia didn't speak immediately. She walked to the center of the room, her expression pensive, as if debating how much to say.

Then, finally, she began.

"Hekatrya was found in a rapture." she said, voice steady. "Buried deep within the monolithic cathedral."

Orion absorbed that, but he said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"It wasn't just a material, a relic, or an energy source," Aurelia went on. "It was a system of knowledge. A framework for comprehension itself."

That phrasing struck him. A framework. Not a mere object to be used, but something more fundamental—something that defined the very way reality could be understood.

"The lost civilization didn't just use Hekatrya," Aurelia continued. "They became part of it."

Orion's breath slowed.

"Their greatest minds dissolved into its structure, leaving behind echoes of what they once were."

The words sent a chill through him.

This wasn't about technology. It wasn't even about power in the conventional sense.

This was something far older. Far deeper.

And yet, it explained everything.

The reason why Hekatrya manifested power based on comprehension.

It wasn't a weapon. It wasn't even a tool.

It was a resonance phenomenon.

The deeper one understood it, the more it shaped itself to their knowledge.

Orion processed it all, turning it over in his mind, letting the implications settle into place.

Then, after a long pause, he spoke.

"If Hekatrya is unlocked by comprehension," he said carefully, "why hasn't the Dominion mastered it?"

Aurelia's expression darkened.

"That's the part they don't want you to ask."

Silence stretched between them.

"They tried," Aurelia said at last. "They poured resources into it. Scholars, scientists, warlords—they all studied Hekatrya, obsessed over it, sacrificed entire research teams in pursuit of understanding it."

She met his gaze, eyes like steel.

"But no matter what they did, the system refused them."

Orion felt something cold settle in his chest.

And then, Aurelia spoke the final piece of the puzzle.

"But there was one bloodline that could."

Orion already knew the answer before she said it.

"House Valken."

Aurelia nodded.

"And the moment the Dominion realized that," she said quietly, "they erased House Valken from existence. But why? Shouldn't they research what made them capable of using it?"

The weight of the revelation pressed down on him.