18.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ever since Xyriel declared to his brother that I’m his— in his words, "mine" — I've been stuck to him like glue. He drags me to another part of the spacecraft, which resembles an entire chamber, and from the window, I can see all of Tukik. It's breathtaking.
Tukik City looks like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. The technological advancements everywhere are mind-blowing, and I’m certain I haven’t even seen one percent of the city yet.
When I finally tear my gaze away from the view, I glance at Xyriel. He’s sitting near the window, sipping what looks like red wine from a tumbler. I sit across from him, clearing my throat as I try to find the right words. I don’t want to seem ungrateful—after all, he’s done more than enough to make me stand out among the recruits. But I can’t just sit idly by while they’re being used as test subjects for twisted experiments.
“How long before we land?” I ask, hoping to ease into the conversation.
Xyriel gives me a faint smile and sets his tumbler down on the table. “An hour or two.”
“That long?”
He nods. “Tukik City is massive. It’s about the size of America.”
The sheer scale of it fascinates me. I glance outside the window once more before turning my attention back to him. “About the other recruits,” I begin hesitantly, feeling my throat tighten. I’m unsure how he’ll react to what I’m about to say, and it makes me anxious. “Is there any way to make your brother understand that we have feelings? We can't just be used in experiments.”
Xyriel raises an eyebrow, and for a moment, I brace myself for a harsh reaction. But instead of lashing out, his smile only widens as he shakes his head slightly. “I really don’t care about that, Ophelia. All I care about is keeping you safe. To me, you’re a treasure.”
His words catch me off guard. He’s focused on keeping me safe, but why? Why am I treated like something precious?
The question lingers so much in my mind. Why does he care so much? Out of all the recruits, why me? I want to ask him, to dig deeper into his motivations, but I hesitate. Maybe it’s not the right time to push for answers.
Instead, I shift slightly in my seat, keeping my tone neutral. “You say I’m your treasure, but I don’t understand why.” My voice is steady, though I can feel my heart racing. “What makes me different from the others?”
Xyriel leans back, crossing his arms as he studies me. “You really don’t know, do you?” His eyes narrow, and for a moment, his usual calm demeanor seems to harden. “It’s not about what you’ve done, Ophelia. It’s about who you are.”
I blink, caught off guard by the weight of his words. “Who I am?”
“Yes,” he says simply, his gaze never wavering from mine. “When others didn't try to befriend me, you did. Even when you believed I was schizophrenic you still spoke to me and treated me somewhat better. You’re not like the others, and that’s why I can’t let anything happen to you.”
I frown, unsure if I should feel flattered or alarmed. “And what about the others?” I press gently. “Don’t they deserve the same protection?”
Xyriel’s eyes darken slightly, and his smile fades. “They’re not my concern. My brother handles them, and I trust he knows what he’s doing.” He pauses, then adds softly, “On Xyriel, I’ll protect you, Ophelia. I won't let anyone touch you, but don’t ask me to challenge him. Not yet.”
Not yet. The words hang heavy in the air between us. I wonder if he’s hinting at something deeper, some future confrontation that he’s not ready for just yet. Either way, it’s clear I won’t get any more out of him on this topic, at least not now.
Sighing, I look back out the window, watching the sprawling city below us. The vastness of it is overwhelming, and I feel a strange mixture of awe and unease. Xyriel might care about me, but there’s still so much I don’t understand about his world—and most importantly him.
The spacecraft begins to descend and when it lands, Xyriel immediately stands up and stretches his hand towards me. I glance at it fleetingly before taking it in mine. He smiles a bit and leads me through another exit out of the spacecraft.
Someone with a pink skin colour immediately rushes towards us. They oddly remind me of Patrick from SpongeBob. “Yi kutic eni agiz xyv, matik Xyriel,” the person says in the alien language as they bow to Xyriel feet.
Xyriel simply nods as he places his feet on the person head, taking me completely off guard. Shouldn't that be considered as rude?
But then, I remember something Xyriel told me on the day we first met. He had said his name, Xyriel, translated to doom in my language, and on his planet children were born through an egg with abilities and his happen to be ‘doom’.
I'm completely lost in thought as Xyriel drags me along with him, ignoring the greetings of various aliens around who all seem to bow to him.
Shit, I can tell Xyriel is really important here. However, I wonder if he really has a ‘doom’ wielding power because if he does, I know things are about to get real.