Renaldo arrived at dawn. No announcement. No dimensional gateway flash. He simply walked into the palace council chamber like he'd been expected, though no invitation had been sent.
Athelia sat at the high council table, Alexander stood by the door with one hand resting on his sword hilt, and Severen was by the eastern window—all three turning sharply at the intrusion.
Renaldo looked exactly as he always did: tall, long black hair falling past his shoulders, sapphire eyes calm and unreadable, dressed in blue and gold robes without rank insignia. He moved like someone who didn't need permission to be anywhere.
"Your Majesties," Renaldo said with a slight bow. "Severen." His tone was pleasant, conversational—utterly at odds with the tension crackling through the room. "I apologize for the early hour, but there are modifications that need to be made to the Nexus filing."
Alexander's hand tightened on his sword. "Modifications? The terms were agreed upon. The Princess leaves this morning to file the genetic restitution claim—"
"And she will," Renaldo interrupted smoothly. "But the documentation requires... adjustments. Technical specifications. Filing classifications. The sort of details that make the difference between a claim that's processed and one that's buried in administrative review for the next century."
Athelia's eyes narrowed. "What kind of adjustments?"
"Nothing that changes the substance. Only the presentation." Renaldo pulled a slim folder from his robes and set it on the table. "I've prepared revised forms. The Princess can review them on the journey."
Severen hadn't moved from the window, but his voice was cold. "You came all the way from Nexus to deliver paperwork?"
"I came," Renaldo said carefully, "because this filing matters. Not just to the Ka'naveth. Not just to your kingdom. To the balance that holds this entire system together." He met Severen's gaze directly. "And because some things cannot be communicated through channels."
"What things?"
"Context. Consequences. The understanding that once this claim is filed, there's no calling it back. The Ka'naveth will have standing. Legal recognition. The right to challenge every patent, every land claim, every settlement decision made in the last three centuries." Renaldo's expression was unreadable. "Are you prepared for that?"
Athelia and Alexander exchanged glances. Severen remained motionless.
"We're prepared," Athelia said quietly. "The Ka'naveth were wronged. The law exists to address wrongs. Whatever the cost."
"Good." Renaldo inclined his head. "Then I'll leave you to your preparations. The Princess should depart within the hour if she wants to reach the Nexus gateway by nightfall."
He turned to leave, then paused at the door. His eyes found Severen's across the chamber.
"You don't get it," Renaldo said softly. "Malachar has already started the Aether Protocols."
Severen's eyes narrowed to slits. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"Fuck," he breathed.
Renaldo smiled—just slightly—and walked out.
Alexander looked between Severen and the empty doorway. "What the hell are the Aether Protocols?"
But Severen didn't answer. He was staring out the window toward the eastern courtyard where Zara was preparing for departure, his jaw tight and his hands clenched at his sides.
Zara stood beside the dimensional gateway marker, adjusting the straps on her travel pack for the third time. Her ears were flat against her skull, tail lashing in sharp, frustrated movements.
Draeven waited nearby with Umbral—the Azazel guardian's galaxy orb pulsing slowly in sync with Zara's agitation.
"I don't understand why he won't come with me," Zara muttered, glancing back toward the palace where Severen remained inside. "This is important. This is—" Her voice cracked slightly. "He should be here."
Draeven tilted his head, ancient eyes studying her with something that might have been sympathy. Or calculation. "Perhaps he trusts you to handle it alone, my Queen."
"Or perhaps he doesn't want to be seen supporting the Ka'naveth publicly." Her tail lashed harder. "Plausible deniability. Keep his hands clean if this goes badly."
"Is that what you think?"
"I don't know what to think anymore." Zara yanked the strap tight enough to hurt. "Ten years. Ten years of surgeries to restore the Ka'naveth genetic lines. Thousands of procedures. Millions of people suffering through modification after modification just to undo what the Council's patents did to your species—"
"There is another option," Draeven said quietly.
Zara's ears pricked forward despite herself. "What option?"
"You could save all your people from surgery with a single event. One filing. One... contribution." He stepped closer, voice dropping. "We could file a Continuation-In-Part patent. Add new matter to the existing Ka'naveth genetic claims. And you could provide that new matter by bearing a child with me."
Zara went very still. Her tail stopped mid-lash.
"One child," Draeven continued, "with combined Ka'naveth and royal bloodlines. A living embodiment of genetic restitution. The ultimate proof of concept. Instead of ten years of surgeries, we could demonstrate successful integration in a single generation. The Nexus examiners would—"
Zara's eyes narrowed to amber slits. Her claws extended.
"Absolutely fucking not."
The words came out cold and sharp as broken glass. Her tail lashed once—hard enough to crack against the stone courtyard.
Draeven held up both hands, but there was amusement dancing in his ancient eyes. "It was merely a suggestion, my Queen. A legal strategy—"
"A legal strategy." Zara's laugh was bitter. "You want to turn me into a broodmare for your patent claim. Reduce ten years of medical procedures to one fucking pregnancy like that's somehow better. Like that's not—" She cut herself off, breathing hard.
"I meant no offense."
"Then you shouldn't have opened your mouth." Zara grabbed her pack and slung it over her shoulder with enough force to make the buckles rattle. "We're filing the claim as agreed. Ten-year medical program. Voluntary participation. Informed consent. Not turning me into your experimental breeding project."
Draeven's expression remained placid, but his eyes gleamed. "As you wish, my Queen."
He gestured toward the dimensional gateway marker—a tall obsidian stone carved with sigils that pulsed faintly with Nexus energy.
"Shall we?"
Zara stalked toward the gateway, ears still flat, tail still lashing. Umbral floated beside her, the guardian's galaxy orb pulsing red now—matching her fury.
Draeven followed at a respectful distance, and if he was smiling, Zara refused to turn around and see it.
"The gateway requires contact for dimensional stability," Draeven said as they reached the obsidian marker. "If you'll permit—"
Zara grabbed his hand without looking at him. "Just open the damn portal."
Draeven touched the marker with his free hand. The sigils flared brilliant white. Reality split open like a wound—and the dimensional gateway yawned before them, showing the familiar crystalline architecture of the Nexus Archives on the other side.
They stepped through together, hands still clasped for stability, with Umbral streaming along beside them like a comet.
The dimensional gateway deposited them in a vast marble chamber with vaulted ceilings that seemed to stretch into infinity. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured light across polished floors, and the air hummed with residual portal energy.
Two guards in silver armor stood at attention on either side of the arrival platform. They didn't flinch when Umbral's galaxy orb pulsed and rotated beside Zara. Didn't reach for weapons. Didn't even look surprised.
One of them stepped forward and bowed. "Princess Zara. Elder Draeven. The King is waiting for you."
Zara's ears pricked forward. Her tail stopped mid-lash. "The King? We're here to file with the Archives—"
"The King requested your presence immediately upon arrival, Your Highness. If you'll follow me."
The guard turned without waiting for confirmation, clearly expecting them to follow.
Zara glanced at Draeven. He showed no surprise—just inclined his head slightly, as if this was exactly what he'd expected.
Her claws extended. "You knew."
"I suspected the filing would attract... attention," Draeven said quietly. "Come, my Queen. It's unwise to keep kings waiting."
Zara's tail lashed once more, but she followed the guard deeper into Nexus Archives, with Umbral floating silently at her side and Draeven trailing behind—still wearing that small, knowing smile.
The guard led them through crystalline corridors to a meeting hall with walls that seemed to shift between transparency and opacity. A long obsidian table dominated the center of the room, and seated at its head was a figure Zara recognized from diplomatic records.
King Redkin, ruler of the dimension itself. Long black hair framed a face marked with elaborate golden tattoos that traced ornate patterns across the right side—black and gold intertwining like living vines. Golden eyes studied her approach with ancient patience. He wore black and gold armor so intricately detailed it looked like art rather than protection.
Three others sat along the table's length.
To Redkin's right sat a man with brown hair and silver eyes that tracked Zara's entrance with predatory precision. He wore robes that spoke of wealth and authority, and when he smiled, it didn't reach those cold, calculating eyes. Isaac Wavelander.
Beside Isaac slouched a gaunt, skeletal figure in a tattered plague doctor's cloak. Pale skin stretched over hollow cheekbones, and sunken eyes watched her with clinical interest. The air around him carried a faint smell of decay. Korrin.
And across from them both sat a man whose presence commanded the room despite his stillness—Dariac. His eyes were dark and unreadable, his posture relaxed yet somehow threatening.
Zara's ears flattened against her skull. Her tail stopped mid-lash and hung rigid.
"Princess Zara," King Redkin said, his voice smooth as silk. "Elder Draeven. We've been waiting for you."
Zara's ears twitched forward, confusion breaking through her tension. "I don't understand. I'm just here to file a genetic restitution agreement with the Archives. The paperwork is—"
"I understand completely," Redkin said, gesturing to the empty chairs across from Isaac and Dariac. "But these gentlemen requested an audience with you before the filing proceeds. Please, sit."
Zara glanced at Draeven again. The Ka'naveth Elder's expression was unreadable, but he moved to take a seat without hesitation. Umbral's galaxy orb pulsed once—warning—then settled beside her chair.
She sat slowly, claws still extended, tail lashing against the chair leg.
Isaac leaned forward, silver eyes gleaming. "The ten-year genetic restoration program. Thousands of surgical procedures. Millions of people undergoing modification after modification to repair patent-induced damage to the Ka'naveth species. It's... ambitious."
"It's necessary," Zara said flatly.
"Perhaps," Isaac said. "But there is an alternative. A Continuation-In-Part filing that would add new matter to the existing Ka'naveth genetic patents. One child—with combined Ka'naveth and royal bloodlines—would serve as proof of concept for successful genetic integration. A single generation instead of a decade of suffering."
Zara's eyes narrowed to slits. Her claws scraped against the obsidian table. "Absolutely not."
The words came out cold and absolute.
Isaac's smile didn't waver. "I thought you might say that."
King Redkin sighed softly, golden eyes settling on Zara with something that might have been pity. "Well, that presents a horrible problem then."
Zara's tail stopped mid-lash. "What problem?"
"You're already pregnant, Princess," Redkin said quietly. "And if you don't agree to file a Continuation-In-Part patent making that child part of the genetic restitution claim... then its existence is an infringement."
The room went absolutely silent.
Zara stared at him. Her ears flattened completely against her skull. "What?"
"The dimensional gateway scan detected embryonic development," Redkin said, as if discussing the weather. "Ka'naveth genetic markers. Royal bloodline compatibility. The pregnancy was established during your portal transit to the Underworld. You've been carrying this child for some time now, Princess."
Zara's claws dug into the table hard enough to leave gouges in the obsidian. "That's impossible."
Draeven surged to his feet. "Wait—what? How? I didn't—we never—"
King Redkin's golden eyes shifted to the Ka'naveth Elder. "You didn't need to. Malachar handled the conception. The AI inherited from her parents—Alexander and Athelia survived the Dome, yes? Their nanobot systems passed to their daughter. Malachar has been dormant in her bloodstream for twenty-three years, waiting for the right genetic match and the right moment."
Redkin's gaze returned to Zara. "Portal transit to the Underworld. Physical contact for dimensional stability. DNA scan. Embryonic construction. All accomplished in less than a second while your conscious mind was overwhelmed by the transit itself."
Zara's mind raced. Malachar. The AI. Self-conception. Severen knew—that's why Renaldo warned him about the Aether Protocols.
She drew in a sharp breath and pivoted on the spot like a professional negotiator facing impossible odds.
"Fine."
The word came out cold and controlled. Her ears lifted slightly. Her tail stopped lashing and hung still.
"We file the genetic restitution agreement as written. I can't alter a document already signed by my Council and approved by the Ka'naveth delegation. Instead, we file a new patent application as a separate but related matter."
Her amber eyes locked on Dariac. "I presume you are the original inventor on the Ka'naveth genetic patents?"
Dariac inclined his head slowly, dark eyes unreadable.
"Then you'll file as co-inventor with me on the new application," Zara continued, voice sharp and precise. "We're claiming novel hybrid genetics—wolf-Ka'naveth combination that doesn't exist in your ancient patents or my bloodline alone. Joint inventorship. But we're going to have very specific provisions written into the patent application and the associated agreements."
She leaned forward, claws pressing into the obsidian table. "Since this will be a child that is born from me, I get exclusive rights to raise it without your input or interactions. It will not be treated like a thing to be owned or a specimen to be studied. It will be raised as my child, in my household, under my authority, with full legal protections as a member of the royal family."
Isaac's smile widened. "And in exchange?"
"In exchange," Zara said coldly, "the patent filing proceeds. The child's existence becomes legitimate intellectual property development rather than infringement. The Ka'naveth get their genetic restitution. You get your proof of concept. And I get to raise my child without interference from the Obsidian Cabal."
She turned her gaze to King Redkin. "Those are my terms. Non-negotiable."
Isaac leaned forward, that cold smile widening into something almost predatory. "Alright. We'll allow that."
Zara's ears twitched forward, suspicion cutting through her controlled demeanor.
"But," Isaac continued softly, silver eyes gleaming, "we invoke the Aether Protocols."
King Redkin's hand slammed down on the obsidian table hard enough to crack it. The sound echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap.
"Absolutely not." His voice was low and dangerous, golden eyes blazing. "I will not allow you to take advantage of her like this. The Aether Protocols are—"
Dariac leaned back in his chair, dark eyes calm and unreadable. "But Your Majesty, Malachar has already invoked them. The AI acted autonomously to establish the pregnancy. The Protocols are already in effect."
He turned his gaze to Zara. "It's time she knows what she is."
Redkin's jaw clenched so hard Zara could see the muscle jumping. His hands curled into fists on the table.
"Your Majesty," Zara said slowly, tail rigid behind her. "What are the Aether Protocols?"
Redkin closed his eyes briefly, golden light dimming. When he opened them again, something like grief looked back at her.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I... I didn't want you to find out like this. But my hand is forced."
He gestured, and the air above the table shimmered. A holographic display materialized, showing a patent document with the dimensional seal glowing at the top.
Title: MALACHAR - Biological AI Construct for Dimensional Integrity Maintenance
Inventor: Severen Cael'Sereith
Filing Date: Nexus Year 7,299 (2 Nexus years prior)
Status: Active
Abstract:
A biological artificial intelligence integrated into living host systems via nanobot architecture. Capable of autonomous decision-making regarding genetic material, dimensional stability, and host protection. Designed to monitor, maintain, and when necessary, initiate Aether Protocols for dimensional preservation.
Primary Function: KEEPER OF THE AETHER PROTOCOLS
Host Integration: Inherited through bloodline from Alexander and Athelia [Dome survivors]. Current primary host: Zara Hartwood [Royal bloodline, Ka'naveth compatible].
Aether Protocols: Autonomous authority to make genetic and reproductive decisions on behalf of host when dimensional integrity requires intervention. Protocol activation grants patent holder oversight of all resulting genetic material and derivative works.
Zara stared at the holographic text. Her ears flattened completely against her skull. Her claws extended so far they pierced through the obsidian table.
"Severen..." Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "Severen created this?"
"Two Nexus years ago," Redkin said quietly, something like pain in his golden eyes. "Malachar is a biological AI construct integrated into your cellular structure through the nanobots you inherited from your parents. It's been dormant, monitoring, waiting for the right genetic match and the right circumstances."
He gestured to the patent display. "And when those circumstances arose, it acted. Autonomously. Without your conscious knowledge or consent."
The room spun. Zara's vision narrowed to the glowing text above the table.
Inventor: Severen Cael'Sereith.
Keeper of the Aether Protocols.
Current primary host: Zara Hartwood.
"The Aether Protocols," Isaac said softly, leaning forward with that predatory smile, "give Malachar—and by extension, the patent holder—authority over reproductive decisions when dimensional integrity is at stake. You negotiated custody of your child, Princess. But the Protocols mean we retain final authority over what that child becomes. What it's used for. How its genetic material is deployed in future patent applications."
He spread his hands. "You can raise it. Love it. Protect it. But ultimately? It belongs to the patent."
Zara couldn't breathe.
King Redkin stood, golden eyes still locked on Zara's pale face. "I'll draft the Continuation-In-Part filing. Both parties will sign. This matter will be settled under dimensional law."
He gestured, and golden light streamed from his fingertips—not magic exactly, but something older. Authority given form. The air above the table shimmered and solidified into parchment covered in flowing script that wrote itself in real-time.
Patent classifications. Inventor names. Claims defining the scope of genetic material. Provisions for custody and developmental oversight. Every word binding under dimensional law.
"Sign here," Redkin said to Dariac, sliding one copy across the table. The Director's dark eyes scanned the document once, then he signed with a quill that materialized in his hand.
Redkin turned to Zara. "And here."
Her claws trembled as she took the quill. The words blurred. Continuation-In-Part filing... genetic material derived from Ka'naveth Elder Draeven... host vessel Zara Hartwood... custody provisions... Aether Protocol authority...
She signed.
The parchment flared gold, sealing the agreement into dimensional record. Isaac's smile widened. Korrin's sunken eyes gleamed with clinical satisfaction. Dariac leaned back in his chair, utterly calm.
"The filing is complete," Redkin said. "Princess Zara, if you'll come with me. There are... formalities that must be addressed before you depart."
Zara stood on shaking legs. Umbral's galaxy orb pulsed once—uncertain—then followed as Redkin led her toward the exit.
Behind them, Isaac murmured something to Dariac. Both men smiled.
Redkin led her through crystalline corridors that seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions. Shelves lined with scrolls, books, and holographic data crystals rose higher than any building Zara had ever seen.
"Every patent filed in this dimension is stored here," Redkin said quietly. His voice echoed strangely in the vast space. "Every claim. Every grant. Every challenge. Twenty Ventari years of continuous record-keeping equals four million, seven hundred thousand years of local history."
He gestured to a section glowing with faint silver light. "The Ka'naveth patents are there. Patent KN-4701 through KN-4707. Filed sixteen Ventari years ago by a people who understood that law could preserve what force could not protect."
Zara's tail hung limp behind her. Her ears were flat. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because you need to understand what you just signed." Redkin turned to face her fully. "Come. There's more you must see."
They descended through levels Zara couldn't name, past archives and council chambers and sealed vaults, until they reached a massive chamber at Nexus's core.
And there, flowing through channels carved into reality itself, was the Aetherflow.
It looked like liquid starlight. Silver and gold and colors that had no names, streaming in vast rivers that branched into tributaries that branched again into streams that fed out in all directions. Some flowed into the chamber from distant realms. Others flowed out toward destinations Zara couldn't see.
"The river of souls," Redkin said softly. "It supplies all thirteen realms. Energy flows in when beings die. Energy flows out when beings are born. The cycle maintains dimensional balance."
He pointed to a channel flowing deep crimson, almost black. "That feeds the thirteenth realm. It's been... corrupted. Sealed. Clandereth's death fractured it, and no soul can flow properly through that channel anymore."
Zara stared at the dark river. "What does that have to do with—"
"The Aether Protocols," Redkin interrupted gently, "are the redemption mechanism for the thirteenth dimension. When a soul compatible with that realm is ready to be reborn, Malachar creates a vessel. Not just any child, Zara. A vessel capable of housing Clandereth's displaced soul and reopening that corrupted channel."
Her claws extended involuntarily. "My child—"
"Will be the vessel that restores the thirteenth realm to balance." Redkin's golden eyes were sad. "But the Obsidian Cabal doesn't know that. They've been working for twenty-two Ventari years to achieve what they believe is their ultimate purpose."
He turned to face her fully. "They call him Aether. They don't realize Aether and Clandereth are the same being. They believe that by controlling your child—by invoking what they think the Aether Protocols do—they will gain authority over the flow of souls itself. Control over all life. All death. All rebirth across every realm."
Zara's vision swam. "But they won't."
"No," Redkin said quietly. "They won't. Because the Protocols don't work the way they believe. But that won't stop them from trying. And what they attempt in pursuit of that control..." He stopped. Swallowed hard. "Zara. You have to find a way to stop them."
"How?" Her voice broke. "I just signed a patent filing that gives them—"
"That gives them what they believe is authority." Redkin's hand settled on her shoulder, warm and solid. "But belief and truth are not always the same thing. Severen built Malachar to protect you. To preserve dimensional balance. Not to serve the Obsidian Cabal's ambitions."
He squeezed once, then released her. "Go home, Princess. Raise your child. And when the time comes—when they make their move—remember that the Aether Protocols serve the dimension's needs. Not theirs."
Zara stared at the rivers of souls flowing in and out of the chamber. Millions of lives. Billions. All cycling through this single point at the heart of existence.
And somewhere in that flow, Clandereth's soul waited to be reborn into the child growing inside her.
(Time Dilation: 1 Ventari Day = 6 Local Weeks)
Alexander's hand was still on his sword hilt. His eyes hadn't left Severen since Renaldo walked out of the council chamber with that cryptic warning about Aether Protocols.
"Explain." His voice was low and dangerous. "Now."
Severen stood by the window, staring out at the eastern courtyard where Zara had departed with Draeven barely five minutes ago. His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white.
"Severen," Athelia said quietly from her seat at the council table. "What are the Aether Protocols? What did Renaldo mean when he said Malachar had already started them?"
Severen's shoulders tensed. When he turned to face them, there were tears in his sapphire eyes.
"It means..." His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, jaw clenching. "Fuck. It means that she's going to come back pregnant."
The temperature in the room dropped.
Alexander's sword was halfway out of its sheath before Athelia's hand shot out to stop him. "With whose child?" she asked, voice deadly calm.
Severen's face twisted with grief and apology. Alexander stared at him, something terrible dawning in his eyes.
"Is it your child?" Alexander asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"NO." Severen's denial came sharp and immediate. He swallowed hard, then his gaze shifted to Athelia. His next words fell like stones into still water.
"With Clandereth."
Athelia went absolutely still. Her hands flattened on the council table.
"That's impossible," she whispered. "Clandereth is—"
"Dead. Yes. His soul is... elsewhere." Severen's voice was hollow. "But the Aether Protocols don't create a child from genetic material alone. They create a vessel. Malachar was designed to construct the perfect host body for a displaced soul when dimensional integrity requires intervention."
He turned back to the window, unable to meet their eyes. "Renaldo orchestrated this. All of it. The trip to the Underworld. Draeven holding her hand during portal transit. The genetic restitution filing that required her to go to Nexus. Every step calculated to trigger the Protocols at exactly the right moment."
"To bring back Clandereth," Alexander said slowly, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage. "You integrated an AI into our daughter that can make her pregnant against her will to resurrect a dead god."
"I didn't build Malachar," Severen said, voice breaking. "The AI was created five thousand years ago to protect my people during the Dome crisis. It was designed to preserve bloodlines, to ensure survival when everything was collapsing. I integrated it into Alexander and Athelia's nanobot systems as a failsafe—to protect their children, to preserve dimensional stability if—" He cut himself off, hands curling into fists. "I didn't know Renaldo would use it like this. I didn't know he wanted Clandereth back. I thought I was protecting her."
"You thought what?" Athelia's voice was ice.
Severen finally turned to face them fully, tears tracking down his face. "I thought I was building a failsafe. A way to ensure the bloodlines survived if everything collapsed. I gave Malachar autonomy because I trusted my own design. And Renaldo..." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "Renaldo knew exactly what I'd built. And he knew how to use it."
Alexander's sword slid back into its sheath with a soft click. Not because his rage had diminished, but because he realized a blade was useless against what had already been done.
"How long?" Athelia asked quietly. "How long until she comes back?"
"Time dilation," Severen said. "She's been gone six weeks our time. In Nexus?" He swallowed hard. "One day. Just one Ventari day. But that's more than enough time for them to tell her everything. To spring the trap. To invoke the Protocols." He looked out the window again. "She could walk through that gate any moment now. And when she does..."
"She'll know," Athelia finished. "They'll have told her."
Severen nodded once, sharp and final. "And she'll hate me for it."