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Elian was alone. Utterly, hopelessly alone.
With a visible effort, Elian straightened his shoulders and began to walk, putting one foot in front of the other. Away from the burning wreckage, away from the bitter ashes of a dream turned to dust.
Alone, but not beaten. There had to be a way to survive this nightmare.
He had to believe that.
He had no other choice.
The wind howled across the desolate plain, whipping up swirls of rusty dust that stung Elian's eyes. He finally reached the cover of the woods, ducking out of that infernal wind.
He shielded his face with one hand as he surveyed the barren landscape. Night was falling fast. The sickly green skies were already fading to inky blackness, the last feeble rays of the alien sun disappearing over the horizon.
Elian's breath was beginning to plume in frosty clouds before him. He hadn't expected the temperature to plummet so rapidly. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had to find shelter.
It took most of the dwindling sunlight to find a small crevice tucked up between jutting alien rocks. Elian began methodically settling down into it, curling up into a ball.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't think about the flames licking at the ship's mangled hull. Don't think about the cryopods and the lives they were supposed to protect.
Just focus on the task at hand. One step at a time.
He tugged his knees to his chest, movements stiff and jerky in the cramped confines. The wind screamed past outside, a banshee howl that set his teeth on edge. His stomach roiled, reminding him of just how long it had been since his last real meal.
He was supposed to wake up to the medical team offering him rations. He was supposed to sit quietly for thirty minutes while his vitals were monitored, getting his strength back.
He wasn't supposed to flee a burning spaceship, and curl up in the woods like a lost creature.
Elian groaned, resting his head against his knees. Outside, the first few pinprick stars were winking into existence, alien constellations charting their stately paths across the bruised canvas of the sky.
How many light years had he traveled to wind up here, huddled alone beneath a foreign sky?
A lump rose in his throat, the grief sudden and visceral. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears came anyway, hot, stinging tracks that cut through the grime on his cheeks.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. If only he'd known. If he'd had even an inkling of the nightmare that awaited them all, maybe he could have…
Could have what? Stopped it? Changed the course of events? Don't be a fool. You're just a passenger, a name on a manifest. None of this was ever in your control.
He was so tired. Now that the adrenaline from the escape had ebbed away, bone-deep weariness dragged at his limbs.
Elian's lashes fluttered, his breathing evening out into the slow, steady rhythm of encroaching slumber. Exhaustion clouded his mind, the ragged edges of despair fraying into blessed numbness—
A sound. Faint but distinct, subtle underneath the mournful keening of the wind.
Elian's eyes snapped open, body going rigid. He held his breath, straining to hear…
There it was again. A soft sound, like a footfall. Coming from outside the shelter, somewhere out in the endless night.
He wasn't alone.
Chapter two
The wild storms of Vasz were fierce.
But so was Rael.
He squinted at the wild skies, the clouds shifting through a murky pearlescent shimmer that glinted off of his golden skin. His cloak whipped behind him, a complement to his pent-up mood, and the wind whistled between his horns.
It was all a beautiful sight.
