Chapter 74: Vaelora Verdict

Thalor Wildlands – Vaelora's Hunt

The sky above the shattered Thalor world cracked with ember-hued lightning. The land here was broken, stitched together by jagged ridges and black rivers where blood had long since replaced water. Vaelora stood atop a ruined observation tower—its last defender's skull now mounted to the rusted spike of her glaive.

Around her, the Thal'karn beasts prowled—six-legged horrors with bone-forged armor and eyes that glowed like molten iron. They devoured the last of the Thalor outpost's survivors, limbs torn from sockets, tongues flayed mid-scream. The outpost had barely lasted an hour.

Vaelora's own armor steamed from the raw psychic charge she'd loosed in the final assault, her voice still echoing through the mental leash of the Thal'karn. She was calm now. Almost serene.

Until her wrist-plate pulsed.

A distorted voice filtered through—static-laced, guttural, and deep.

"Commander Vaelora. ShadowScourge Relais-5 reporting. Priority transmission. Subject: Dakarie, son of High Elder Xiran. Confirmed departure from Sol'thera Citadel. Destination: Seerworld Jha'mor'ak."

Everything froze. Even the Thal'karn stopped chewing.

Vaelora's gaze narrowed. Her pupils flared black.

"He's going to them…" she growled. Her voice low, venomous.

She activated her private comm-link.

"Ruthen. Deploy. Six apex Thal'karn. No spawnlings—only bonded beasts. Take your full handler cadre. Your objective is Dakarie. Capture or kill. If he reaches the Seers, this war gets messy."

There was no pause. Ruthen replied immediately.

"Understood, my commander. We leave now. The boy will not speak with the blind."

In Warp Transit – Ruthen's Spear Pack

Within a sleek, bone-plated war barque cloaked in a constant warp-distortion field, Ruthen, Mahasimu stalk-hunter of vaunted legend, sharpened the teeth of her bonded blade. Her armor was a second skin, dark gray veined with runes that flickered like embers. Her voice was always calm, always terrifying.

Her pack—six elite Thal'karn, each ten meters tall when hunched—slumbered in chained cryo-bays, their bodies marked by ancient burn scars and glyph brands denoting prior genocides. These were not mere warbeasts. These were Death Sigils.

Their handlers, eight in total, sat quietly in the black-lit chamber, rechecking neural control rods, psychotropic feeders, and resonance muzzles. None dared speak above a whisper.

Finally, Ruthen broke the silence.

"Dakarie is not to reach the Seers. We will intercept the moment he makes landfall."

One handler, young and bold, spoke:

"Commander… is it true what they say about Jha'mor'ak? About the Seers?"

Ruthen's gaze slid to him. She did not blink.

"They see through time and shatter minds for joy."

Another handler added, quieter, as though afraid the ship itself might hear:

"Their world screams in dreams. Planets near it turn black. I heard one of their slaves looked into the Grand Blind One's face and evaporated."

Ruthen finished sharpening.

"Stay on mission. Fear after."

A deep pulse echoed through the vessel—warp bleed signaling they were nearing Jha'mor'ak.

Jha'mor'ak – The Homeworld of the Broken Seers

Outside the warped membrane of their barque, reality began to twist.

Jha'mor'ak appeared not like a planet, but a wound in space—a blackened world surrounded by weeping asteroids and drifting bones of ships from empires long extinct. Its orbit was warped, bent inward as though trying to collapse into itself.

Below, the surface roiled with psychic fog, metallic fungi, and endless pyramids carved from fossilized obsidian. Obelisks floated upside down. Storms of static lightning laced with dead voices tore through the sky.

From orbit, even the Thal'karn whimpered.

And standing in the middle of it all, a small light Dakarie.

The son of Xiran had arrived, robed in ceremonial white and blue, holding no weapons, surrounded by only two honor guards. A fool's hope.

From high above, the barque's cloak began to unravel. Ruthen rose.

"Prepare the drop. Track him through his mind. If the Seers welcome him, we strike."

And far below, Dakarie's eyes turned skyward.