Chapter Fifty Seven: The Chase and first meeting

Chapter Fifty Seven: The Chase and first meeting
Freya jolted awake.

The overhead lights were dim, the kind that mimicked a starlit Nimoan sky to signal night aboard the ship. But sleep had barely touched her bones. Her mind replayed what she’d witnessed the night before — Nerissa slipping out through a hidden chute, glancing behind her shoulder as if keeping secrets from the shadows.

Freya sat up in bed, heart still racing as she tried to make sense of it.

Her swirling thoughts and the memory from last night came rushing in- What was Nerissa doing out of the ship so late? Who was she meeting? Her thoughts spun in a loop, tracing back every moment, every offhand excuse or half-smile Nerissa had given her over the past days. All the times she’d gone missing at random hours. At first, Freya had chalked it up to duties. After all, Nerissa was a trained Zytherion warrior. Surely she had tasks beyond being Freya’s personal guide.

But she knows… it didn’t sit right.

Her gut — that same nagging intuition that had never failed her — was burning. Something was off.

Freya stood and paced her room, fingers drumming nervously on her thigh. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something vital. Something that could hurt Axir and the entire crew if left unchecked.

She had promised him not to step outside the ship. But this wasn’t just about her curiosity anymore. This was about protecting him.

If Nerissa is hiding something… I have to find out what.

She had made her last night. Freya grabbed the light jacket folded at the edge of her bed. She tiptoed to her door and peeked into the hallway. Silent. Still. The kind of quiet that crept into your lungs and warned you: Now or never.

She stepped out.

The floor panels under her feet made the softest hiss, the hum of the Zytherion ship pulsing like a heartbeat. She turned right, headed for the chute she saw Nerissa use.

The corridor stretched long and empty. As she neared the end, movement caught her eye.

A shadow. Low and sleek, moving fast.

Her heart thudded painfully. Is it her?

Freya pressed herself to the wall, inching forward, breath hitched. At the very end of the corridor, the figure stopped. Crouched low. It was Nerissa.

Freya watched as the woman retrieved something from her pocket — the same device she saw her use before. A soft blue flicker activated the chute’s panel. It opened with a hiss.

No hesitation. Nerissa jumped in.

Freya didn’t wait. She counted — one… two… — then bolted.

The chute’s edge was cool against her palms. She barely looked down before diving in.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

The tunnel was narrower than she expected, and Freya twisted mid-slide, bumping and scraping along the smooth walls as she spiraled downward. Faster, faster — her stomach churned as gravity yanked her.

Then — thud.

She landed hard, rolling onto a patch of springy moss-like weeds. It cushioned the fall, but left her gasping, wide-eyed. Still alive, she told herself, pulling herself to her knees.

A moment passed before she dared peek over the edge of the foliage.

Nerissa was there, a few yards away, moving with precision, heading through a gated side entrance into Kehan’s estate grounds. Her figure was bathed in the low golden glow of Nimoa’s artificial moonlight.

Freya’s instincts screamed. This wasn’t just a stroll.

She scrambled forward, keeping low and silent.

The moment she stepped through the gate after Nerissa, the grandeur of Kehan’s estate hit her. Massive ivory pillars gleamed in the moonlight, flanking a walkway embedded with luminous stones that shimmered like stars. Tall alien hedges swayed lightly in the wind, giving everything an eerie, enchanted stillness.

But she had no time to admire the view.

Nerissa had disappeared again.

Freya quickened her pace, turning down a side path. The cobbled road forked. She darted to the right, breath sharp in her lungs. Her shoes skidded slightly on the curved tiles—then—

Wham.

She hit something. No—someone.

A solid, tall wall of muscle.

She let out a yelp as she nearly face-planted, but a strong arm caught her around the waist.

“Eska ik ovulé?” The voice was deep, smooth—velvet dipped in command.

Translation burst into her head like instinct: Who are you? Thank goodness for the universal translator Axir gave her.

Freya froze.

She slowly tilted her head up, and her breath caught in her throat.

The man — no, the being — standing before her was stunning. Otherworldly. His skin glistened with a green undertone, smooth like polished jade. Horns — delicate but defined — curled slightly above his brow, etched with tiny golden lines that pulsed faintly. And his eyes… gods. A swirling dance of emerald and gold, bright and curious.

She was speechless.

He blinked down at her, not hostile, just… confused. Curious.

“I—uh—” she stammered, trying to find words, heart hammering.

He tilted his head. “Did you fall from the sky or are you just terribly lost?”

His Common tongue was perfect, lightly accented, and laced with amusement.

Snap out of it, Freya.

“I was… following someone,” she said, trying to sound confident but failing miserably.

“Strange place to follow strangers,” he replied, still not letting go of her. “You’re not from here.”

“That obvious, huh?”

He smirked, and finally let go. “No Nimoan would fall into someone and look at their horns like it’s a dessert tray.”

Freya turned bright red and cleared her throat. “I wasn’t staring.”

“You were.”

“I really wasn’t.”

He chuckled, but his gaze sharpened slightly. “You shouldn’t be here. This is not a safe area, especially during the send-off banquet.”

She stiffened. “I know. But I have to find someone. A friend… she might be in trouble.”

He studied her, gaze flicking to her clenched fists and rapid breathing. “And you thought sneaking through secret chutes was the best way to do that?”

Freya sighed. “It wasn’t my finest plan, I admit.”

“What’s your name?”

“…Freya.”

His lips twitched again. “Beautiful name.”

She didn’t respond. Her mind was racing. Who was this man? He didn’t look like a Nimoan she’d seen before. Or any of the estate guards.

Then she asked the question before she could stop herself: “Who are you?”

The smile on his lips didn’t fade, but it did change. Subtle. Sad, maybe. Or just unreadable.

“Let’s just say I’m someone who’s not meant to be here either.”

Their eyes locked for a beat too long.

“Come,” he said. “You can’t wander around here in plain sight. If someone else sees you, it won’t be horns and jokes — it’ll be cuffs and questions.”

“I need to follow my friend—”

“You’ll get caught before you find this friend.”

He started walking, expecting her to follow. She hesitated… then followed.

Freya didn’t know what she’d just gotten herself into.

All she knew was that this mysterious stranger — horns and all — was both a risk and a lifeline.

And if she wanted answers… she had to play along.