The Ishtar's Veil rumbled low, engines slicing through the sky.

Ibris leaned against the curved cabin wall, one horn grazing the tinted window. He stared at the horizon. Six hours of shifting landscapes had passed by. The Atlantean floating islands faded behind them. Then Bahyan City. Smaller cities. Scattered villages. Now, there was only endless sand.

He had tried sitting. It lasted minutes. The tension in his gut forced him back to his feet. He paced, uneven and restless.

His silk shirt and dress pants were gone, replaced with black tactical gear. Lightweight armored plating covered his chest, shoulders, and forearms. His thick, wavy black hair was slicked back, tamed but unruly at the edges. A shadow of a beard darkened his jaw.

Yoshua, stubborn as ever, stuck to his usual button-down and pants. At least he had the sense to wear an armored vest beneath it, guards strapped to his forearms.

Marcus, of course, had found a new suit aboard the Ishtar's Veil—sleek, tailored, and still entirely impractical for their mission. But Ibris noticed the subtle armored inserts woven into the fabric, giving Marcus a layer of protection without sacrificing his signature Sumeri flair.

Marcus adjusted his cuffs, precise as ever.

Ibris rolled his eyes.

Meanwhile, Nabu-9 worked tirelessly, tracking GPS coordinates Marcus had pulled from the Nexus Umbra system. Flying an airship to a single precise location was hard enough. Marcus had given him a 100-mile radius to aim for.

Ibris leaned against the cabin wall, mulling over the facts. The records Vega had provided, whose origins Marcus still didn't know, pointed to ten Khoraz facilities scattered across the Western Lands. All within this vast radius.

Marcus was betting on movement patterns pulled from the Nexus Umbra system, tracking erratic shifts in life forms to narrow down their target. It was guesswork, refined, but still a gamble.

They still didn't know exactly where Esa was. And as the minutes dragged on, Ibris could only hope one of Marcus' elusive contacts would deliver something concrete soon.

Still restless, Ibris pulled out his tablet, scrolling absently through messages.

A new one caught his eye. He raised a brow and tapped it open.

Lira.

"I miss you. Maybe we can watch the sunlight from your bed again?"

Lira's intent was as clear as day. A smirk tugged at his lips. Predictable. He flicked past it, his expression hardening as another message appeared.

Vega.

"Good news. Don Cavialli accepted all your terms. Deliverables ready by the end of the week. Once secured, I'll send him the codes to your facilities. Thoughts on his samples?"

His jaw clenched.

The deal was set. No more leverage. No turning back.

Ibris exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his thick black hair. He stared at the message. Too long. Every term had been negotiated. Every angle covered. Still, the thought of working with someone like Don Cavialli left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Didn't matter. He had no choice. The deal was done.

His fingers brushed his pocket, grazing the small case of STIM vials Vega had handed him. A dozen of them, enough to tempt, to test, and maybe to trust.

Vega had assured him, over and over, that Don's work was strictly for military and private contractors. Safe for humans. Safe for halfbreeds.

She'd even joked that he should try them. Said she and her bedmate had tested them. Called the results exhilarating.

But she had warned him too.

"Easy to hurt yourself when you're that strong."

Ibris took a slow breath, grounding himself. Focus. Back to the present.

Yoshua sat by the window, arms crossed, gaze locked on the desert below. Silent. Distant. He had barely spoken since they left the Clinic. Still avoiding Kaya and Mazi.

Across the cabin, Kaya, Mazi, and Joher huddled together. All in black combat gear. Fitted shirts. Cargo pants. Reinforced plating over their chests, shoulders, forearms. Belts and harnesses strapped with weapons. Utility pouches. Lightweight tactical boots built for agility and silence.

Geared for war.

Their voices were low, drifting through the cabin in broken fragments: "Elah," "Esa," "Joher's family," and "the Khoraz." Ibris watched as Joher lowered his eyes and murmured prayers.

Mazi, as he had in the Clinic, spoke with quiet authority. Demonstrating movements. Offering tactical advice. His voice calm. Measured.

Ibris didn't join.

Too much weighed on him: Geshar's health, the South, the deal with Don, and whatever the hell lay ahead.

And there was Esa, haunting him constantly. His words. His hatred.

The truth.

A tangled knot in his chest, tightening.

Adding to Ibris' frustration was the lack of control he had over their current journey. Not when Marcus was involved.  Always calculating. Always five steps ahead. And right now, he was the one in control.

An hour ago, he had slipped into the cockpit with a casual, "I'll be right back. We should be there soon." Then—door shut. No explanation. No updates.

It had been too long.

Ibris trusted his instincts. And something about Marcus nagged at him. A quiet suspicion.

He hesitated at first and then moved. Heading straight for the cockpit.

The door hissed open. Marcus sat still in the pilot's chair, tablet glowing in his lap. He wasn't flying, the Nabu-9 had that covered. But something was off.

Marcus sat with his hand resting on his tablet. Its screen glowing with the Nexus Umbra's shifting data streams. His head was tilted back slightly, his auburn and gray hair catching the soft glow of the cockpit's overhead lights. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, and rolled back slightly. His breathing was slow and strangely controlled.

It was like he wasn't here.

The sight was unnatural. Marcus was somewhere far away. Connected to something unseen.

Ibris stopped cold. What the hell was that?

"Marcus." His voice cut through the low hum of the cockpit.

Marcus jolted. Blinked rapidly. Like he'd just woken from a dream.

Then, smoothly, "Ibris." A smirk. "Drink before the action?"

Ibris ignored it. Stepped closer. "What were you just doing?"

Silence.

Abruptly Marcus straightened. Like something had just clicked into place. Like a man who had received an answer no one else could hear. His fingers twitched once before smoothing over his cuffs, adjusting them with deliberate care.

He blinked.

"Oh," he said, quietly. "I see."

Ibris frowned. "See what?"  All he could see was the expanse of sand stretching ahead.

Marcus didn't answer. His head tilted again, just for a moment, like he was somewhere else.

Suddenly—

"There it is," he murmured. "I see which facility Esa is in."

Ibris stiffened. A slow, creeping unease settled in his chest.

"How do you know that?" he pressed, his shoulders tense.

But Marcus rose abruptly, brushing past Ibris without a word, and strode into the main cabin. Ibris followed close behind, his unease mounting. Marcus stopped at a console, his fingers flying over his tablet as he input new coordinates. The holographic display of the Nexus Umbra's map shifted, zooming in with precision.

"We'll be arriving soon," Marcus announced.

Nabu-9 stepped forward. "At our current velocity, arrival is in nineteen minutes."

Marcus nodded sharply, his composure slipping just slightly. "We need to get there as soon as possible," he said, his words quick, almost clipped. "If we don't, we won't be able to save anyone." He murmured.

Ibris frowned. "Anyone?"

His mind jumped to Esa, to Joher's family, to his wife, and to his parents.

Was Marcus referring to them? Or was he talking about someone else?

But Marcus' quiet intensity gave nothing away. He exhaled, gaze sweeping the cabin.

"Given what lay ahead, the path won't be easy."

Yoshua's posture stiffened. "What exactly are we walking into?"

Marcus didn't answer right away. He stepped closer to the holographic map, eyes locked on the flickering display. He pointed.

"The arena's here," he said, tracing the perimeter.

The image shifted, zooming in. A circular structure, open to the sky. Rows of packed seating, pulsing with life.

Marcus paused. "The Umbra Nexus feed shows that the arena is circular, open to the sky. The stands are currently packed. Chaotic life forms everywhere." His finger traced the perimeter. "At the center, a sunken pit. Uneven sand, scarred. Weapons scattered... spears, blades, clubs."

He exhaled. "Beneath it, tunnels. Chambers. Likely holding cells."

A pause. 

And quietly added, "Sheera and Esa are somewhere down there."

Ibris frowned. "Sheera? How can you possibly know—"

Marcus didn't answer.

Mazi stepped forward, his face paling. "Master Sheera? They have Master Sheera?" His voice was sharp, panic creeping in. "If Esa finds out, he'll end everyone in that arena."

That's what I'm afraid of, Ibris thought.

Yoshua's gaze hardened. "What about Joher's family?"

Joher's hands trembled slightly. "My wife and parents may be there too. May Elah be with them, wherever they are."

Marcus nodded, his voice quieter now. "I can only hope," he said, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, "that they are with Esa and Sheera underground."

Yoshua placed a firm hand on Joher's shoulder.

Joher exhaled, nodding.

Marcus refocused, gesturing to the shifting markers on the holographic map. "There are ten to fifteen guards patrolling outside the arena at any time. Ten to fifteen stationed within the perimeter. Another five to seven inside the pit."

Mazi's jaw clenched. "That's a lot of guards."

Marcus' continued. "Four massive laser cannons, each fifteen feet long, are positioned around the stadium. Fixed inward. Aimed directly at the pit. No one inside escapes."

He paused. "The Khoraz have taken every precaution. They'll kill their prisoners before they let them go."

Another pause. 

Carefully he said, "Based on what I can see," a brief hesitation, almost like he caught himself, "or rather, what the Umbra Nexus is showing me, the laser bases align with the arena's load-bearing structures. If we plant explosives at those four points, the entire arena will collapse."

His lips twitched. "Two birds, one stone."

"So we split into three teams," Ibris cut in, taking command before Marcus could finish.

Strategy and execution were Ibris' domain.

"One team frees the prisoners. One engages the guards. One takes out the cannons and plants the charges."

Marcus shook his head. He exhaled, stepping back. Yielding the floor to Ibris.

Ibris didn't hesitate. "Team One is Kaya, Joher, Mazi," he said firmly. "You take the tunnels. Free the prisoners. Esa, Sheera, Joher's family, and anyone else down there."

Joher nodded, relief washing over his face. "Thank you." His voice barely above a whisper. He closed his eyes, lips moving in quiet prayer.

"I'm in," Kaya said, no hesitation. Her gaze lingered on Joher's quiet devotion, solemn.

Mazi's jaw tightened. "I'm not leaving our people with those monsters a second longer."

Ibris nodded once.

"Team Two," Ibris said, locking eyes with Marcus. "You and I hit the guards head-on. Stealth drones for support. We keep them busy. Give Team One time to reach the cells."

Marcus gave a slow nod, that smirk still tugging at his lips. Earlier, he had told Ibris about his six top-tier stealth drones, reserved for moments like this. Rainy day gear, he had called them.

"A frontal assault?" Marcus straightened his suit. "Bold. I like it."

"That leaves me," Yoshua said, stepping forward. "Team Three. I plant the charges. Take out the cannons. Bring the arena down."

"You won't be alone for long," Ibris said. "Once we clear the guards, Marcus, the drones, and I will back you up. We make sure the job's done right. The collapse gives us cover for a clean exit."

Yoshua smirked, sharp canines flashing. "I've worked alone before. I'll manage."

Ibris rolled his eyes. Classic lone wolf act.

He turned to the group. "That's the plan. Move fast. Stay in contact." His voice dropped. "If you run into a sky god, you do not engage. You run. Understood?"

A pause. 

Marcus shifted, eyes flicking back to the holographic map.

"One more thing. There's something else in that arena," he murmured.

Yoshua stiffened. "What do you mean, something else?"

Ibris exhaled sharply. "Here we go," he muttered, irritation flaring.

Marcus' gaze stayed locked on the map. "I don't know what it is," he admitted, uneasy. "The Nexus Umbra and I—" a pause, brief, "—we can't pinpoint it. But it's not Esa. Whatever it is, it's inorganic. It's moving fast. Too fast. And it's killing lifeforms rapidly in that arena."

Kaya glanced at Nabu-9. "Couldn't it just be an android?"

Ibris stiffened. An android?

Marcus exhaled. "An android's movement is limited. Calculated. This... isn't. The patterns are erratic. Unpredictable. Maybe even intuitive. Not something you can program."

"What he means, Kaya," Yoshua added, addressing his niece for the first time since their departure, "it's strictly illegal to program androids to kill living beings."

Ibris was pensive. "Not like the sky gods follow Atlantean law."

His mind raced.

But what if it was an android?

Marcus shot Ibris a disapproving look.

Ibris leaned in. His mind was elsewhere.

The movement on the holographic display was unnatural. Too fast. A blur cutting through the chaos with impossible precision. His chest tightened. A chill ran down his spine.

"No," Ibris whispered.

It can't be.

Mazi frowned. "What is it?"

Ibris took a step back, his pulse hammering. His mind rejected what his eyes were telling him.

"It... it can't be."

[Chapter 24 continues in the next section.]