Chapter 7 – The First Spark of Dawn
Silence, thick and reverent, filled the Genesis Chamber. The only sounds were the fading hum of the great machine and Vaktari's soft, shuddering breaths as she clung to Skodar. He stood, a statue of newborn power, feeling the echo of her centuries of loneliness seep through her touch and into his very bones.
Slowly, with a gentleness that felt both foreign and instinctive, Skodar's arms came up to encircle her. He held her not as a deity or a savior, but as someone in profound pain. Her form, though composed of light and energy, felt heartbreakingly real against him.
"I am not him," Skodar whispered into the stillness, his new voice deeper, resonant with an authority he did not yet own. "I am Skodar Vakhas of Mohsi Village. My brother was Sukodar. My grandmother was Makosra."
Vaktari drew back, her luminous cheeks streaked with trails of shimmering blue. She cupped his face, her gaze searching his—not for the ghost of her king, but for the soul of the boy who had fought his way up a deadly mountain for love.
"I know," she said, her voice raw. "And it is because you are Skodar that his legacy has awakened. His strength, dormant for millennia, chose your heart to beat again. You did not replace him. You have… honored him."
She stepped back, the moment of vulnerability receding behind a mask of solemn purpose, though her eyes still held a soft, wounded light. "Come. Your body is renewed, but it is a vessel waiting to be filled. You must learn to command the power within you."
She led him from the platform to the center of the chamber. With a wave of her hand, a section of the floor shimmered and transformed into a circular training arena, its perimeter marked by softly pulsing runes.
"The blood of the Vakhas—our true blood—is not one of meekness," Vaktari began, her tone shifting into that of a masterful instructor. "Our deterioration was a prison. The Genesis Prism has shattered its bars. Your body now holds the Prima Genes of our ancestors. They are the foundation of all life-energy manipulation on Arthoje."
She pointed to a crystal pillar. "Strike it. Do not think. Feel. Channel your grief, your rage, your will to protect."
Skodar looked at his hands—once thin and blue, now strong and etched with faint, glowing cerulean lines beneath the skin. He remembered the cliff. The falling bodies. Kharsok's cold eyes. A wave of fury, hot and blinding, surged from his core.
He lunged, fist flying toward the crystal.
A burst of raw blue energy exploded from his knuckles on impact. The pillar didn't just shake—it screamed, a crack spider-webbing up its length before the entire structure disintegrated into harmless, glittering dust. The shockwave echoed through the chamber, causing other machines to whir in response.
Skodar stared, panting, at the space where the pillar had been.
"That… was unfocused. Wild," Vaktari stated, though a flicker of approval was in her eyes. "The power responds to emotion, but you must be its master, not its conduit. Your enemies will not wait for your rage to peak."
For hours that felt like moments, she drilled him. She taught him to visualize the energy—Vaktari's Essence, she called it—as a river within. He learned to draw a trickle to his fingertips, creating a humming shield of light. He learned to push it to his legs, enhancing his speed in bursts that left after-images. Each movement was fluid, a martial art that felt like remembering a forgotten dream.
"The species of this galaxy categorize power by the Energy Stones," Vaktari explained as he practiced a defensive stance. "White, Orange, Yellow, Purple, Black. They are crutches. Tools. Your essence is the source they all tap into, however dimly. A master of the Prima Genes, in time, could shatter a Black Stone with a thought."
The implication hung in the air. The slavers, the raiders, the entire cruel economy of his world… they built their strength on a power he was born from.
Exhaustion finally began to seep into Skodar's new muscles. As he lowered his hands, the glow beneath his skin subsided. He looked at Vaktari, a new question forming, born of his old life's practicality.
"The Antos Fruit," he said, the memory a fresh stab of guilt. "I dropped it… at the gorge. It was for my brother."
Vaktari's expression softened. She walked to a console, and a holographic image of the galaxy, focusing on the Gogasi Continent, bloomed in the air. "Your brother's fate, and your grandmother's, is a thread not yet fully severed. The raiders took their bodies, but not for mere disposal. Kharsok Vlas is a merchant. He deals in rare commodities."
A cold dread settled in Skodar's stomach. "What commodity?"
"Biological samples. Genetic material. The Vakhas, in our weakened state, were considered worthless. But a living sample, especially one with a unique reaction to poison or trauma…" She met his gaze. "They may be in stasis. Captive. A prize to be sold at a market like the one in Taksipa City, or… used for the Hunting Arena."
The Hunting Arena. The words from the slaver Kolar Karthos that he had overheard in his previous life echoed: "All royal family War Masters will attend… The winner receives Genes Amplifier Liquid."
A horrific puzzle clicked together. The raid wasn't random. It was a harvest.
"The Arena is in two days," Skodar said, his voice like grinding stone.
"It is," Vaktari confirmed. "And the slave pens of Taksipa are the antechamber to its horrors. But you are not ready to storm a city, Skodar. Not yet."
"I don't have a choice!" he roared, the energy flaring around him again. "You gave me this power to save them, didn't you?!"
"I gave you this power to fulfill a destiny!" she fired back, her own aura blazing. "Which starts with saving them, yes! But not by dying in a reckless charge! You must be a shadow, a spark, not a wildfire they can easily extinguish!"
They stood locked in a standoff, the air crackling between them. Finally, Skodar's shoulders slumped, the fury bleeding into a determined resolve.
"What is my first move?"
Vaktari gestured, and the hologram zoomed into the wild forests between their hidden sanctuary and Taksipa City. A route highlighted in red.
"You will travel here. The Fungal Caverns of Krynn. The sporewalkers you evaded before are a threat. Now, they are your first trial. Their core glands contain Mycelium Resonance Crystals. Bring me three. They will allow me to craft a cloak that can bend light and mute energy signatures—to make you unseen."
She placed a hand on his chest, over his steady, powerful heartbeat. "This is not a delay. This is your first mission. Prove to yourself that you can control your power. Harvest the crystals. Return. Then, we cloak you in shadow, and you walk into the lion's den."
Skodar looked from the map to his hands, then to the ghost of the woman who was his creator, his teacher, and a widow seeing her love reborn. The path was clear. The mountain had been for his brother. The caverns would be for his people.
He nodded, a grim finality in his glowing eyes.
"I leave at dawn."
Vaktari offered a small, sad smile. The boy was gone. In his place stood a warrior, forged in loss and divine fire, taking his first step onto a galactic stage drenched in blood. The hunt was about to begin—but this time, the prey would become the hunter.