Kaelan Wolfstein stood amidst the shadows of the wreckage, his silver-gray eyes like frozen lakes, reflecting no emotion. Every rational part of his mind told him clearly that the woman huddled in the corner—her genetic signature so faint it was nearly inert—was insignificant. A mere "low-grade" who had stumbled into his amnesiac episode. The Broken Star Belt was teeming with such ants. Her very existence was an error that needed correction.
Yet, his body persistently betrayed his will.
When she tried to move, unsteady from staying in one position for too long, the muscles in his arm tensed minutely, as if ready to reach out. When she hugged her arms against the cold, or unconsciously, an inexplicable irritation simmered within him, disrupting his usual calm. What baffled him most was the destructive power that had been seething restlessly, almost uncontrollably, within his mental domain since he awoke. It would inexplicably calm, becoming docile and stable, as if smoothed by an invisible hand, whenever she was within a certain proximity.
This schism deeply displeased him. He detested anything beyond his control, anything defying logic, and Selene was the greatest anomaly of all.
"Who are you?" he asked again, his voice colder than the night wind of the Broken Star Belt, laced with undeniable interrogation.
Selene looked up. The initial shock and fragility on her face were gone, replaced by a weary calm. "Selene," she answered, her voice raspy. "I took care of you… when you were 'Cookie'." She deliberately used the name, her gaze locked on his, searching for a flicker of recognition in those icy eyes.
"Cookie?" Kaelan's brow furrowed deeper. The name sounded absurd and alien to him, even slightly offensive. His memories of that period were a void, populated only by fragments of his family crest and battlefield smoke. "Irrelevant information," he concluded. "What do you know of my condition during that time?"
"I know a puppy who depended on and trusted me," Selene said slowly, rising to her feet and brushing the dust from her clothes with a gesture of bleak defiance, "not an Empire Marshal who interrogates the person who saved him."
Her bluntness sparked a flicker of surprise in Kaelan's eyes, followed by intensified scrutiny. At that moment, a low engine rumble echoed from the sky. Several sleek black assault ships, emblazoned with the wolf's head sigil of House Wolfstein, pierced the clouds and descended precisely into the clearing outside the wreckage. A squad of guards in black powered armor swiftly and silently surrounded the area.
"Marshal!" The lead guard captain saluted crisply, his voice thick with suppressed emotion and reverence. "We apologize for our delayed arrival!"
Kaelan gave a slight nod, but his gaze never left Selene. "Secure the area. Prepare for immediate return."
"And her?" The captain's eyes fell on Selene, filled with open assessment and suspicion. A low-grade, found at the Marshal's crash site—it was highly suspect.
Kaelan's reason told him the correct procedure was immediate interrogation and, if necessary, elimination of any potential threat. Yet the words that left his mouth were: "Bring her. She may possess intelligence from my amnesiac period. Take her to the capital for detailed questioning."
The decision brought a flicker of that same inexplicable irritation. Was it vigilance against an 'anomaly'? Or was some deeply frozen part of him preventing a colder choice? He couldn't tell.
Selene didn't resist. She knew struggle was futile against such overwhelming force. She was 'escorted' by two guards onto one of the assault ships and placed in a small, sterile single-occupancy cabin. Through the narrow viewport, she watched Kaelan Wolfstein, surrounded by his retinue, board the lead flagship. He didn't look back at her once.
The ship's engines ignited, the powerful G-forces pressing her into the seat. Selene watched through the viewport as the crimson wasteland—the site of her brief struggle and unexpected warmth—shrank, distorted, and was finally replaced by churning clouds and the black void of space.
She had left the Broken Star Belt, that cruel yet somehow 'free' place. Ahead lay the heart of the Empire, a vortex of power and intrigue, a world far more alien and dangerous to her.
The 'Cookie' who had sought warmth in her arms, who had shyly turned away from her kisses, who had embraced her with an unfinished, ancient vow… was dead. He had died in the cold, assessing gaze of the Marshal. What remained was Empire Marshal Kaelan Wolfstein, a monumental threat who saw her as a suspicious object to be crushed at will.
As the ship settled into its cruising speed, the cabin door slid open. A guard silently handed her a standard nutrient paste tube. Selene took it, her knuckles whitening slightly. She looked down at the tasteless paste, but her mind's eye saw 'Cookie' licking the paste from her fingertip, the memory of that warm, rough tongue vivid. A sharp, unexpected pang pierced through her feigned composure. She closed her eyes, drew a slow breath, and when she opened them again, only cold clarity remained. Warmth was now a thing of the past. From this moment on, she had to secure a path for herself in this new, deadly game.