Zodyl always knew you were alive. The information arrived fragmented, bought with favors and blood, whispered by mouths that dared not look him in the eye. Alive, yes—but the rest was a blur. Zodyl didn't know where you had fallen after the forced separation, nor what you had become. Much less that you now carried the symbol of the Keepers on your body and soul.

The ongoing mission was simple in concept and monstrous in execution.

A Tainted Beast was being created on the edge of the frontier—an artificial organism, molded to cross the surface and touch the threshold of paradise without disintegrating. The final experiment required living subjects. Keepers were thrown into the creature's pulsating interior. Zodyl observed everything from a distance, initially and as always: arms crossed, serene posture, sharp mind.

Then something disturbed him.

An ancient, almost forgotten impact pierced layers of calculation and control. As the creature took flight, information reached his ears: There was one more person on board. and Zodyl went to see for himself.

You were there.

Chaos erupted before he could act directly. One of Zodyl's subordinates stepped forward to restrain a Caretaker too wounded to react. You moved without hesitation. The blow you delivered was clean, precise, charged with intent. Zodyl recognized it with painful clarity. It was the same strength he admired in you long before there were invaders, caretakers, or borders to be breached.

You were fighting the second enemy when Zodyl entered the field.

The pressure shifted; his presence was unannounced; the air seemed to contract around his body. You recognized him instantly. The combat ceased around you.

Zodyl didn't hesitate and, in less than a second, appeared before you. You didn't have time to react.

He targeted points he knew well—joints, nerves.

The first attack wasn't lethal, but it was decisive. You reacted afterward, counterattacked, made the ground give way beneath his feet. For a brief moment, he smiled. Pure pride, almost unwanted.

"You've become even stronger," he said softly. "Just the way I knew you would."

The fight intensified. Each blow he landed was calculated to end, not to humiliate. Still, it hurt. The impact on your flank stole the air from your lungs. The second blow opened your guard. The third came with a force you couldn't contain—your body was thrown against the structure of the Tainted Beast, bones vibrating with the shock.

Zodyl approached as you tried to get up.

"I can't let them take you from me again."

The last attack was the cruelest. It was clear that he himself didn't seem to want to do it. He suppressed your energy, paralyzed your movements, and when you fell to your knees, he caught you before the ground did. The world darkened at the edge of your vision as he enveloped you in his own containment field.

When you lost consciousness, it was in his arms.

Zodyl personally carried you to the invaders' base. He didn't delegate. He didn't trust. He ordered that no one touch you except what was necessary. He treated your wounds with almost reverent precision, stabilizing each injury, ensuring your survival. He didn't treat you as a disposable prisoner, but as something that belonged to him.

When you awoke, hours later, the environment was too silent. Cold lights, invading technology, the purple light. Your body ached, but was partially healed.

Zodyl was beside you.

Sitting, too relaxed for the situation, observing your vital signs. When he realized you had awakened, his eyes turned to you with the same intensity as before—there was no regret there. Only decision. "You're not going to run away," he said calmly.

And, for the first time since their reunion, he allowed the feeling he had always denied to become evident.

"I want you and your strength by my side."