Chapter 12: Fractures in the Sky

Three months had passed since Daksha stepped through the portal, returning to Veloria to protect Prince and Earth from her people's wrath. Three months of emptiness, of going through the motions of a life that no longer felt like his own.

Prince had graduated high school—a milestone that should have felt significant but instead passed in a blur of ceremonies and congratulations that barely registered. His uncle had surprised him with a small gift—money for college applications—and an awkward pat on the shoulder that was the closest thing to affection Ravi had shown in years.

"Your parents would be proud," he'd said gruffly, and for a moment, Prince had glimpsed the pain his uncle still carried, the grief that had hardened into distance over the years.

"Thanks," Prince had replied, meaning it despite the hollow feeling in his chest. He wished Daksha could have been there to see him in his cap and gown, to share this moment that marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

But Daksha was gone—not just to another part of the jungle, but to another dimension entirely. Beyond his reach. Perhaps forever.

The feather she had left him, once warm and pulsing with her essence, had grown cold and dull in the days following her departure. The connection they had shared through it—those brief, precious moments at sunset when he could hear her voice in his mind—had faded, then disappeared completely.

Prince kept the feather anyway, carrying it with him always in a small pouch around his neck. A talisman, a reminder, a promise. Sometimes, late at night when the loneliness was most acute, he would take it out and hold it, willing it to glow again, to connect him once more to the being who had changed his life, his heart, his very soul.

It never did.

Summer arrived, hot and humid, the jungle flourishing in the heat. Prince spent most of his days there, in their clearing, sitting on the fallen log where they had shared so many conversations, so many moments of connection. He brought his journal, writing page after page of memories, of feelings, of hopes that grew more tenuous with each passing day.

I dreamed of you last night, he wrote one afternoon, the cicadas buzzing in the trees around him. You were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking out at a sky filled with impossible colors. When you turned to me, your eyes were different—silver instead of amber. You didn't recognize me at first, but then something changed, a spark of memory, of recognition. "Prince," you said, and in that one word was everything we had been to each other.

Was it just a dream? Or something more? A glimpse across dimensions, a moment when the barriers thinned enough for our minds to touch? I want to believe it was real, that somewhere in Veloria, you still remember me, still love me despite whatever they've done to you.

He closed the journal, looking up at the sky visible through the canopy of leaves. It was a perfect summer day—clear blue sky, fluffy white clouds drifting lazily overhead, the sun warm but not oppressive thanks to the shade of the jungle.

Perfect, and yet empty without Daksha to share it with.

Prince was about to pack up and head home when he noticed something strange—a ripple in the air above him, like heat waves but more defined, more deliberate. He stood, his heart suddenly racing, hope and fear warring in his chest.

"Daksha?" he called, his voice breaking on her name. "Is that you?"

The ripple intensified, the air seeming to fold in on itself, creating a distortion that hurt his eyes to look at directly. It wasn't like the portal Daksha had created in his bedroom—that had been controlled, precise, glowing with emerald light. This was chaotic, unstable, the edges jagged and pulsing with a silvery-white light that felt wrong somehow, cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.

Prince took a step back, instinct warning him that whatever this was, it wasn't Daksha. It wasn't good.

The distortion grew, expanding until it was the size of a doorway, hovering a few feet above the ground in the center of the clearing. Through it, Prince could see... something. Not clearly—it was like looking through frosted glass, everything blurred and indistinct. But he could make out shapes, movement, a sense of vast space and impossible architecture.

Veloria. But not as he had glimpsed it through Daksha's portal. This was colder, harsher, more alien.

And then, with a sound like tearing fabric, the distortion split open completely, and a figure stepped through—or rather, floated through, for its feet never touched the ground.

Prince's breath caught in his throat. The being before him was humanoid in shape, but there any resemblance to humanity ended. Its skin was so pale it was almost translucent, its limbs too long and thin to be natural. It wore what appeared to be armor made of light itself, shifting and flowing around a body that seemed more concept than flesh.

But it was the eyes that truly marked it as other—solid silver, with no pupils, no iris, no white. Just pools of liquid metal that reflected everything and revealed nothing.

A Velorian. One of Daksha's people. One of the beings she had returned to Veloria to face, to protect Prince and Earth from.

And now it was here, in their clearing, looking at Prince with those emotionless silver eyes.

"Human," it said, its voice devoid of inflection, of feeling. "You are designated Prince. Companion to the exile Daksha of the Seventh Quadrant."

It wasn't a question, but Prince nodded anyway, his mouth too dry to speak. How did it know his name? Had Daksha told them about him? Or had they extracted the information from her in ways he didn't want to imagine?

"Your dimensional signature is anomalous," the Velorian continued, those silver eyes studying him with clinical detachment. "You bear traces of Velorian energy. Explanation required."

Prince swallowed hard, finding his voice at last. "Where is Daksha?" he demanded, ignoring the being's statement. "What have you done with her?"

The Velorian tilted its head, a gesture that might have indicated curiosity in a being capable of such an emotion. "The exile Daksha of the Seventh Quadrant has been processed according to protocol," it said, as if that explained everything. "Her contamination has been addressed."

A cold dread settled in Prince's stomach at those words. Processed. Contamination addressed. The clinical language couldn't disguise the horror of what they had likely done to Daksha—stripped her of emotions, of the capacity for love that had made her who she was.

"Bring her back," Prince said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Whatever you've done to her, undo it. She belongs here, with me."

"Incorrect," the Velorian replied. "The exile Daksha of the Seventh Quadrant belongs to Veloria. Her presence in this dimension was unauthorized. Her interaction with primitive species was prohibited."

"Primitive?" Prince repeated, anger flaring through his fear. "We may not be able to travel between dimensions or manipulate reality, but at least we can feel. At least we know what it means to love, to connect, to be truly alive."

The Velorian's expression didn't change—Prince wasn't sure it could change—but something in its posture shifted, became more alert, more focused. "You exhibit symptoms of emotional contamination," it observed. "Analysis indicates prolonged exposure to the exile Daksha. Concerning, but anticipated."

It raised a hand, and a beam of silvery-white light shot forth, enveloping Prince in a cold radiance that made his skin crawl. He tried to move, to run, but found himself frozen in place, unable to do more than breathe and blink as the light scanned him from head to toe.

"Contamination levels: significant," the Velorian announced after a moment, the beam of light disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared. "Emotional patterns integrated with cognitive functions. Correction would require complete neural restructuring. Inefficient use of resources for a primitive species."

Prince found he could move again as the scanning beam disappeared. He took a step back, then another, putting distance between himself and the Velorian. "I don't need 'correction,'" he said, the words coming out more defiantly than he intended. "There's nothing wrong with feeling, with loving. Daksha understood that, even if the rest of you don't."

"The exile Daksha was corrupted by ancient texts," the Velorian said dismissively. "Her judgment was compromised. Her understanding of optimal existence was flawed."

"Her understanding was perfect," Prince countered. "She knew what you've all forgotten—that a life without emotion, without love, isn't life at all. It's just... existence. Empty. Meaningless."

The Velorian studied him for a long moment, those silver eyes unreadable. "Your perspective is noted," it finally said. "But irrelevant to current objectives."

"And what are those objectives?" Prince asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.

"This dimension contains unique properties," the Velorian explained, its tone suggesting it was discussing something as mundane as the weather. "Emotional resonance patterns that, when harvested and inverted, will enhance our technological capabilities by a significant percentage."

"Harvested?" Prince repeated, a sick feeling growing in his stomach. "What does that mean?"

"The emotional energy of sentient beings can be extracted, processed, and converted to power our dimensional engines," the Velorian said matter-of-factly. "The process is not survivable for the subjects, but it is efficient."

Horror washed over Prince as he understood what the being was saying. "You're talking about killing people," he said. "Billions of people, to power your machines."

"Termination is a side effect, not the primary goal," the Velorian corrected. "We harbor no animosity toward your species. This is simply resource allocation. Optimal utilization."

Prince felt sick. This was why Daksha had been so afraid of her people finding Earth. Not just because they might punish her, might harm Prince for his connection to her, but because they would see an entire planet of emotional beings as nothing more than a power source to be harvested.

"Daksha knew," he said, more to himself than to the Velorian. "She knew what you would do if you found Earth. That's why she went back—to try to protect us."

"The exile Daksha's actions were illogical," the Velorian said. "Her return to Veloria accelerated our discovery of this dimension, not delayed it. The dimensional disturbances created by her portal provided the final coordinates we required."

The revelation hit Prince like a physical blow. Daksha's sacrifice—her return to Veloria to protect him, to protect Earth—had actually led her people here faster. Had made this moment, this invasion, possible.

"No," he whispered, denial rising in him. "She was trying to save us."

"Intent is irrelevant," the Velorian said. "Results are what matter. And the result of her actions is the imminent conversion of this dimension to Velorian specifications."

"Conversion?" Prince repeated, a new fear gripping him. "What does that mean?"

The Velorian gestured upward, and Prince followed its movement, looking at the sky visible through the canopy of leaves. What he saw made his blood run cold.

The perfect blue summer sky was... fracturing. There was no other word for it. Cracks were spreading across the azure expanse like a breaking mirror, each fissure glowing with that same silvery-white light that emanated from the Velorian.

"The dimensional anchors are being placed," the being explained, something like satisfaction entering its voice for the first time. "They will stabilize the conversion process, ensure that the fundamental laws of your reality are properly rewritten to align with Velorian parameters."

"You're changing how reality works?" Prince asked, horror mounting as he watched the cracks in the sky spread, multiply, connect into a web of silver light that was beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.

"Correct," the Velorian confirmed. "Your dimension's natural laws are inefficient, chaotic. They will be optimized, standardized to match our own."

"And what happens to us? To humans, to all life on Earth, during this... optimization?"

"Most will not survive the transition," the Velorian said with that same clinical detachment. "Those that do will be evaluated for potential usefulness in the new paradigm. The rest will be harvested for their emotional energy before the capacity for such energy is eliminated from your species entirely."

Prince stared at the being before him, unable to fully comprehend the casual genocide it was describing. Billions of lives, an entire world's worth of cultures, of art, of music, of love—all to be sacrificed for the sake of "efficiency," of "optimal utilization."

"You can't do this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have the right."

"Rights are a construct of emotional beings," the Velorian replied. "We operate based on logic, on what will produce the greatest benefit for our civilization. Your dimension's resources, properly harnessed, will advance our technological capabilities by centuries. The calculation is simple."

"Simple?" Prince repeated, anger flaring through his shock. "There's nothing simple about destroying an entire world, about murdering billions of innocent beings!"

"Murder implies malice," the Velorian corrected. "We harbor no such emotion. This is simply progress. Evolution. The natural order of the multiverse—the strong absorb the weak, the advanced consume the primitive."

Prince looked up at the fracturing sky again, at the web of silver light that was spreading, intensifying. Already he could feel changes in the air around him—a heaviness, a pressure that made it slightly harder to breathe. The colors of the jungle seemed less vibrant, the sounds muted, as if reality itself was being drained of its vitality.

"How long?" he asked, his voice hollow. "How long until the... conversion is complete?"

"The process has already begun," the Velorian said, gesturing at the sky. "The dimensional anchors will be fully deployed within your time measurement of twenty-four hours. The conversion will proceed from there, radiating outward from the anchor points. Total dimensional realignment will be achieved in approximately seventy-two hours."

Three days. Three days until Earth as they knew it ceased to exist. Until humanity, along with all other life on the planet, was either killed outright or stripped of the very emotions that made them human.

"Why are you telling me this?" Prince asked, suddenly suspicious. "Why come here, to this specific clearing, to talk to me specifically?"

The Velorian's silver eyes fixed on him with that unnerving, emotionless gaze. "You are an anomaly," it said. "Your dimensional signature contains traces of Velorian energy. Analysis indicates a connection to the exile Daksha that transcends physical proximity. This is... unexpected. Worthy of study."

"I'm not a lab rat," Prince said, taking another step back. "And I won't help you destroy my world."

"Your cooperation is not required," the Velorian assured him. "Merely your existence. The connection between you and the exile Daksha provides valuable data on cross-dimensional emotional contamination patterns."

Before Prince could respond, the air around them shimmered again, another distortion forming beside the first Velorian. Through it stepped—or rather, floated—a second being, similar to the first but with subtle differences in its light-armor, in the patterns that shifted across its translucent skin.

"Arbiter Zyn," the newcomer addressed the first Velorian. "The Council requires your presence. Dimensional anchor deployment has encountered... resistance."

Zyn—the first Velorian—turned to its companion, those silver eyes narrowing slightly. "Resistance? Explain."

"Unknown energy signatures are interfering with anchor placement in multiple locations," the second Velorian reported. "Analysis indicates deliberate sabotage rather than natural dimensional fluctuations."

"Impossible," Zyn said, the first hint of emotion—something like concern—entering its voice. "No being on this primitive world possesses the knowledge or ability to interfere with Velorian technology."

"The source is not native to this dimension," the second Velorian clarified. "Energy signature analysis indicates... Velorian origin."

A jolt went through Prince at those words. Velorian origin. Could it be...?

"The exile Daksha is contained," Zyn said, echoing Prince's thoughts but reaching a different conclusion. "Her abilities suppressed, her consciousness recalibrated. She cannot be responsible."

"The signature does not match the exile Daksha precisely," the second Velorian admitted. "It is... similar, but distinct. As if filtered through another consciousness, another dimensional lens."

Both Velorians turned to look at Prince then, their silver eyes studying him with new intensity. "The anomaly," Zyn said, understanding dawning in its voice. "The human with the Velorian energy signature. Could the exile have transferred some of her abilities to him before her return?"

"Impossible," the second Velorian said. "Such a transfer would require the Transference Spell, which has been forbidden for millennia. The knowledge of its execution was purged from all records."

"The exile Daksha had access to ancient texts," Zyn reminded its companion. "Records from before the Great Purge. If any being could rediscover the Transference Spell, it would be her."

They continued to stare at Prince, who stood frozen under their scrutiny, his mind racing. Transfer of abilities? Transference Spell? What were they talking about? Daksha had never given him any powers, any abilities beyond the temporary connection through the feather.

Had she?

As if triggered by the thought, the feather in the pouch around Prince's neck suddenly grew warm against his skin. Not the gentle warmth it had possessed when Daksha was communicating through it, but a heat that bordered on painful, that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his quickening heartbeat.

Prince reached up instinctively, his hand closing around the pouch through his shirt. The moment he touched it, images flashed through his mind—not memories, but visions. Daksha in a cell made of light, her form flickering between human and energy as machines Prince couldn't comprehend worked on her, around her, through her. Daksha's eyes, once amber and warm, now silver and cold, all emotion purged from them. Daksha's voice, once melodic and expressive, now flat, monotone, as she recited Velorian principles of logic and efficiency.

And beneath it all, buried so deep that the machines, the "correction," couldn't reach it—a spark. A tiny flame of emotion, of memory, of love. Protected by something the Velorians couldn't detect, couldn't understand. Protected by a connection that transcended dimensions, that had been forged in the most powerful force in the multiverse: love.

Prince gasped as the visions faded, his hand falling away from the pouch. The Velorians were still watching him, their silver eyes narrowed in what might have been suspicion.

"The human exhibits signs of dimensional awareness," Zyn observed. "Unusual for a primitive species. Further study is warranted."

It raised a hand, and that beam of silvery-white light shot forth again, enveloping Prince in its cold radiance. But this time, something different happened. The feather in the pouch grew hotter, almost burning against his skin. And from it, a pulse of emerald light erupted, pushing back against the silver beam, creating a shield of green energy around Prince that the scanning light couldn't penetrate.

Both Velorians took a step back, their emotionless faces showing the first hint of surprise, of concern. "Impossible," the second one said, the word almost a whisper. "The human possesses Velorian abilities. The Transference Spell was performed."

"Containment protocol required," Zyn declared, its voice hardening. "The anomaly must be secured, studied, neutralized before it can further interfere with the conversion process."

It raised both hands this time, and a more powerful beam of silver light shot forth, striking the emerald shield around Prince with enough force to make him stagger back. The shield held, but Prince could feel it weakening, the feather in the pouch growing hotter, almost unbearably so.

"Run," a voice whispered in his mind—Daksha's voice, but different, weaker, as if coming from very far away. "Run, Prince. They cannot be fought, not directly. Not yet."

Prince didn't need to be told twice. As the Velorians prepared another, stronger attack, he turned and fled, running deeper into the jungle, away from the clearing, away from the beings who would destroy his world, who had already taken Daksha from him.

Behind him, he heard a sound like thunder, felt a wave of energy that made the hair on his arms stand on end. The Velorians' attack, hitting the spot where he had stood moments before. Trees splintered, the ground itself seeming to ripple like water as reality warped under the force of the blast.

Prince ran faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest. The feather in the pouch continued to burn against his skin, but the pain was secondary to the fear, the confusion, the desperate need to escape.

"Where?" he gasped aloud, knowing somehow that Daksha could hear him, could guide him. "Where do I go?"

"The shelter," her voice replied in his mind, stronger now, more focused. "In the deep jungle. They cannot detect it easily. Its protections will hide you, give us time to plan."

"Us?" Prince repeated, hope flaring in him despite the dire circumstances. "Daksha, are you... are you still you?"

A pause, then: "Part of me," the voice admitted. "The part they couldn't reach, couldn't correct. The part that remembers you, loves you. The part I hid so deep within myself that even their machines couldn't find it."

"And the rest of you?" Prince asked, dreading the answer but needing to know.

"Changed," Daksha's voice said sadly. "Recalibrated to Velorian specifications. Emotions purged, memories altered. A perfect, logical being serving the Council without question."

"But you're fighting it," Prince said, understanding dawning. "The resistance they mentioned, the interference with the anchors—that's you. The real you, fighting back."

"Not just me," Daksha corrected. "Us. The connection between us, the love we share—it created something new, something they couldn't anticipate. A bridge between dimensions, between consciousnesses."

Prince wanted to ask more questions, to understand fully what was happening, but the sound of pursuit behind him—a high, keening whine that made his teeth ache—told him there was no time. The Velorians were following, tracking him through the jungle with their impossible technology.

"I'll explain more when you're safe," Daksha promised, sensing his urgency. "For now, just run. Follow the pull of the feather. It will lead you to the shelter."

Prince did as she instructed, letting the burning feather guide him, turning left or right as its heat intensified or lessened. Behind him, the sounds of pursuit grew fainter, then louder, then fainter again as he wove through the jungle, taking paths no human had walked before.

Above, through gaps in the canopy, he could see the sky continuing to fracture, the web of silver light spreading, connecting, forming patterns that hurt his eyes to look at directly. The conversion Zyn had spoken of was proceeding, reality itself being rewritten to Velorian specifications.

Unless someone stopped it. Unless he and Daksha—or whatever part of her had survived the "correction"—found a way to fight back, to save Earth from the cold, perfect order that would destroy everything that made it beautiful, vibrant, alive.

As Prince ran deeper into the jungle, the feather burning against his skin, the fractured sky above him, one thought kept him moving, kept him hoping despite the overwhelming odds:

Love was the most powerful force in the multiverse. And love, true love, never died—not even when worlds collided, when realities fractured, when the very fabric of existence was threatened.

Love endured. Love fought back. Love found a way.