The Unraveling Threads

Orion didn't let the weight of the revelation settle. Not yet. His mind was already dissecting every word, analyzing every angle. Possibilities, contradictions, gaps—if Aurelia was lying, even slightly, he needed to catch it now.

He watched her closely. Not just her words, but her body language. She was poised, measured. Not defensive, not evasive. Like she had already prepared for this interrogation. That only made him more suspicious.

"Who told you about Hekatrya?" Orion asked, his voice even. "This isn't public knowledge, and you don't have access to the Special Candidates Program."

Aurelia exhaled lightly, tilting her head just a fraction. "I have my sources."

"That's not an answer," Orion said, his voice steady as he watched Aurelia closely for any reaction.

"It's the only one you're getting." Her tone was steady, her gaze unwavering.

Orion's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't let frustration creep in. He moved on. "You said the Dominion wiped out House Valken because they could use Hekatrya. If that's true, why not take them alive? Experiment on them? The Dominion doesn't waste resources."

Aurelia's lips pressed together just briefly before she answered. "They tried."

His fingers tapped once against his armrest. "And?"

A pause. Then: "They failed."

"Failed how?" Orion asked, narrowing his eyes as he studied Aurelia's expression.

She finally broke eye contact, just for a second. "The records don't say."

Orion filed that reaction away. Convenient, but not necessarily a lie.

"Why couldn't the Dominion wield it?" he pressed. "They had access to the ruins, the cathedral, the material itself. You're telling me that with all their power, all their resources, they got nothing?"

Aurelia hesitated. But not like someone stalling for a lie—like someone considering how to explain something difficult.

"It wasn't about having Hekatrya," she said finally, her voice quieter now. "It was about understanding it. The Dominion approached it like any other technology—like something to be reverse-engineered, broken apart, mastered. But Hekatrya didn't work like that."

Orion leaned forward slightly. "And they didn't comprehend it."

She nodded. "The more they tried to force it, the more it resisted them. Like a puzzle that shifts the moment you think you have the answer. They could replicate fragments, mimic effects, but true control? Impossible."

He absorbed that, filing it away.

"If the Dominion failed, how did House Valken succeed?" Orion asked, his voice edged with suspicion.

Aurelia's expression darkened, but her voice remained steady. "Because they didn't treat it like a weapon. They treated it like a language."

His fingers curled slightly against his armrest. "Then why does the Confederacy still know about it?"

Aurelia's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Because the Confederacy never tried to use it. They studied it, preserved the knowledge, but they never tried to wield it for themselves. The Dominion didn't see that as a threat."

"The Special Candidates Program," Orion muttered. "So you have someone who has a high-clearance in the Special Candidates Program"

She didn't answer, but she didn't need to.

Orion shifted in his seat, watching her carefully. Her breathing was steady. Her answers had come naturally, without the telltale pauses of someone trying to fabricate a lie. She hadn't stalled, hadn't scrambled for details.

Still, something didn't add up.

His gaze sharpened. "Why do you keep referring to the Dominion as if you're not part of it, princess?" He let the question hang.

For the first time, Aurelia's expression flickered—just for a heartbeat. Then it was gone, replaced by that same unreadable calm.

"That's not an answer I can give you yet." she said.

Orion exhaled slowly. He still didn't have all the pieces. But one thing was certain.

Aurelia was telling the truth.

And if she was lying, then she was an exceptionally good liar.

A slow exhale left him as he pushed back from the table, the weight of the past week pressing heavily on his mind. The revelations, the half-truths, the hidden intentions—each one a piece of a larger puzzle he had yet to solve.

He needed space to think. Rising from his seat, he left the chamber behind, his steps carrying him back to his quarters. Alone he could finally sift through the storm of knowledge unraveling before him.

Orion sat in silence, letting the conversation settle, but his thoughts refused to be still. He traced every thread, every contradiction, every implication.

The Dominion couldn't use Hekatrya. No matter how many scholars, scientists, or warlords they threw at it, they failed. That much was clear.

But the Confederacy?

They hadn't just preserved its knowledge—they had protected it. Safeguarded it.

Why?

If they never intended to wield it, what was the purpose of keeping it locked away?

His mind turned toward the Vilcadros Council. The Academy's ruling body had always been more than an educational institution. It wasn't just a place where noble scions learned how to wield power—it was a power of its own.

A power that rivaled even the Archon families.

The martial noble houses swore their loyalty not to the Confederacy, not even to their own factions, but to Vilcadros Council itself. Generations of warriors, commanders, strategists—raised, trained, and shaped within its walls.

And yet, despite that power, the Academy had always remained… neutral. A force apart.

Unless—

A cold realization crept into Orion's mind.

What if they weren't neutral at all?

What if the Vilcadros Council had been preparing for something all along? Something related to Hekatrya.

Unless they were aiming for something like a galaxy-wide alliance—none of this made sense.

His pulse quickened.

If the Academy was involved, they wouldn't just contain Hekatrya.

They would use it.

And if that was true—if they were planning to reshape the balance of power—then the Academy wasn't just a battlefield for the best and brightest.

It was the frontline of something much bigger.

Orion's mind churned through the possibilities, piecing together fragments of information, chasing a pattern just out of reach.

The Vilcadros Council wouldn't move without justification. They had always been careful, positioning themselves as an academic institution, not a political force.

Unless… they had found a way to frame their expansion as necessary.

That meant they needed a reason. A crisis, a discovery, or an opportunity that would force the galaxy to acknowledge their growing influence.

The simplest and most politically viable method?

A formalized exchange program.

A way to integrate different human factions, forging alliances under the guise of education, training, and cooperation. The Confederacy, the Dominion's breakaway states, the rogue militarized enclaves—if the Academy positioned itself as the neutral ground, it wouldn't just gain power.

It would become indispensable.

Orion's fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair. If he was right, the Academy would announce this initiative soon—before or after the trials.

But why now?

Why not years ago?

What changed?

Had they made a breakthrough with Hekatrya?

Or was there something else—some external factor—forcing their hand?

The timing wasn't random—too many variables aligned too neatly. If the Academy had been patient for centuries, why act now? What forced their hand? Orion's mind raced through possibilities, weighing each scenario against what he knew. If he didn't uncover the missing link soon, he risked walking blind into something far bigger than himself.

He exhaled slowly, frustration curling through his thoughts. He was close. Too close.

Something about the timing didn't add up.

He was missing one final link.

And until he found it, he wouldn't have the full picture.

Could it be the Raptures? The thought sent a ripple of unease through him

If the Raptures were involved, then the Vilcadros Council's sudden movements made more sense. Were they preparing for an event tied to the Raptures? Or worse—had they already uncovered something?