Chapter Sixty One: The Betrayal

Chapter Sixty One: The Betrayal
Greon tore through the winding corridors of the Nimoan estate like a hunter chasing a scent. His boots thudded against stone and polished tile, adrenaline spiking with each stride. Behind him, Axir and Rexan flanked the hallway, calling orders to the Zytherion soldiers following closely behind.

“She’s heading toward the hangars!” Greon shouted over his shoulder.

“She won’t get far,” Rexan growled. “Sirius and Archelix are locking down the vault.”

“Split at the next turn!” Axir commanded. “We cut her off or we lose her!”

The hallway split. Greon veered right, the air growing colder as he neared the outer passageways. Panels along the walls flickered in alert red, the security system struggling to catch up with the chaos.

Nerissa.

The betrayal pulsed in his chest like a burn. He had trusted her—they all had. And now she was sprinting off into the shadows with the most dangerous asset in the galaxy.

Back at the vault, Archelix and Sirius had locked down the perimeter with Nimoan guards. Freya lingered by the entrance, nerves twisting her gut into knots. She glanced over the scattered prototypes and broken weapons around her, her fingers brushing over a piece of cracked alloy that pulsed faintly.

“Freya,” Archelix said gently, “stay close. We don’t know what else might’ve been disturbed.”

“I’m fine,” she said, eyes locked on the glowing component. “Just trying to understand what Nerissa came here for.”

“She knew what she was doing,” Sirius added grimly. “She was trained for worse.”

General Rhorvak swept through the wreckage, face pale and drawn, hands pulling open crates and dismantled consoles.

“What is so important stored here that one of Zytherion's trusted warrior betrayed her prince?" Kehan muttered. Then turned his eyes on Rhorvak. "Do you know anything about this Rhorvak?"

The General did not say anything but looks grim. His expression unreadable.

Freya’s heart clenched. The core.

Elsewhere — The Hangar

The starry twilight of Nimoa bled through the ceiling slats of the private hangar bay. Vorkesh stood at the foot of a sleek, matte-black spacecraft, every inch of him tense.

Nerissa burst through the hatch.

“You’re late,” he hissed, even as relief flashed in his eyes.

She ignored the dig, her chest heaving. “I led them away. We have to go. Now.”

She tossed the rectangular box into the ship and spun, ready to climb in—but she never made it.

A heavy body tackled her to the ground.

“Not this time,” Greon snarled, his weight pinning her.

Nerissa kicked out, twisting like a snake, elbowing him hard in the ribs. He grunted but held her wrists tight.

Axir and Rexan arrived seconds later, weapons drawn.

“Vorkesh!” Axir roared.

Vorkesh didn’t hesitate. He leapt into the cockpit, slapped a glowing panel, and the ship’s engines ignited with a screaming hum. The hangar lights flashed and rippled as the vessel lifted, hovering above the bay floor.

Axir raised his arm. “Do not—”

Vorkesh was already gone.

The ship blasted into the Nimoan night sky, disappearing into the void.

Greon gritted his teeth as Nerissa writhed beneath him.

“I didn’t want this,” she spat.

“Then why?” he demanded. “Why betray us?”

Her eyes gleamed. “Because Zytherion left people like me to rot in the ashes of the war.”

Rexan stepped forward. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

“Oh,” she whispered, bitter and breathless. “I do.”

She slumped, no longer struggling. The resistance was gone from her muscles—but not from her eyes.

Axir stared at her. Something in his chest fractured. This was the woman he had trusted. Had trained beside. Had brought into his inner circle.

“We’ll take her back to the ship,” he said quietly. “She faces justice there.”

Rexan nodded. Greon rose, hauling Nerissa to her feet.

As they marched her away, Nerissa didn’t look back at the sky.

But deep inside, a part of her still hoped that Vorkesh had the real core.

And if not…

Then Zytherion was running out of time.

In the vault, Freya stared at the door as footsteps pounded down the corridor. Archelix and Sirius turned, weapons at the ready.

Then Axir appeared—face hard, cloak torn from the sprint—and behind him, Greon with a firm grip on Nerissa’s arm.

Freya’s breath caught. “Nerissa…”

Axir walked straight to her and placed both hands on her shoulders. “You followed her.”

She nodded.

“I asked you not to,” he said.

Her eyes brimmed with emotion. “I couldn’t just stay still. I knew something was wrong.”

He sighed, thumb brushing her cheek. “You did good.”

Behind them, General Rhorvak let out a sharp, guttural curse.

“The vault’s lock is damaged. An essential technology is gone.”

“Vorkesh has it,” Greon confirmed grimly. “He escaped.”

“Then this is bigger than we thought,” Rhorvak muttered. “I need to talk to everyone of you.” Looking at everyone's faces.

Axir turned to his crew. "Lock Nerissa to the ship's prison. Never let her out of your sight. Then, we need to leave. Tonight.”

“Agreed,” Rexan said.

Rhorvak intervened. "Before you leave High Prince, you need to know the truth.."

“About time, General" Axir said.

Kehan broke the silence and ushered them to his office. "Let's go. Today, we have to cut the celebration short but tomorrow.. we plan ahead.."