Chapter 6: The Offering

The moment Aeliana stepped onto the ramp of the alien ship, the air around her felt impossibly cold. A sharp hiss echoed from the hydraulics as the ship’s door sealed behind her, cutting off any last glimpse of Willow Glen. She was alone now, trapped in the belly of the beast, and the weight of her choice bore down on her with every trembling step.

Her breath came in shallow bursts, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure the aliens could hear it. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she was escorted down the narrow corridor, flanked by two towering figures draped in sleek, obsidian armor. They said nothing, and their movements were smooth, almost mechanical, as they guided her deeper into the ship. Every inch of the vessel felt foreign—cold metal walls lined with pulsating blue veins of light, the hum of alien machinery thrumming beneath her feet.

Aeliana had never felt so small, so powerless. She had known fear before, but this was something else. This was the kind of fear that hollowed you out from the inside, leaving nothing but a shell. She didn’t know what awaited her at the end of this long, metallic hallway, but the weight of it hung in the air like a death sentence.

Her mind raced with questions. Why had they taken her? What were they going to do with her? Would she even survive the next hour?

The corridor opened into a vast chamber, the walls rising high and curving into a domed ceiling that pulsed with strange lights. The room was vast, yet empty, save for a throne that sat at the far end, elevated on a platform. And on that throne sat King Tharx.

Aeliana froze, her breath catching in her throat as her gaze locked onto him. Even from a distance, his presence was overwhelming. He was nothing like the soldiers who had escorted her. No, he was something much more.

King Tharx was tall—inhumanly tall—and broad, his frame covered in intricate armor that gleamed under the soft blue light. His face, though partially obscured by shadows, was sharp and angular, with features that were both alien and hauntingly regal. His skin was a deep shade of gray, with faint silver markings etched across it, almost like scars, or perhaps symbols of his rank. His eyes, glowing faintly beneath his heavy brow, were fixed on her with an intensity that made her blood run cold.

This was the king. The one behind the invasion. The one who had led his forces to decimate cities, to capture humans like her. And now, she stood before him, nothing more than a bargaining chip, an offering from her family in the hope of survival.

The soldiers who had brought her in stopped just short of the platform, their heads bowed in deference as they presented Aeliana. She stood there, trembling, her legs barely able to hold her up. She didn’t know what to do, what to say—she couldn’t even move.

For a long moment, there was only silence. The cold, oppressive kind of silence that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. And then, finally, Tharx spoke.

“Is this the offering?”

His voice was deep, resonant, with a cold detachment that sent a shiver down her spine. He didn’t look at her directly as he spoke, as if she was beneath his notice. Instead, his gaze flicked briefly to the soldiers who stood on either side of her.

“Yes, my lord,” one of them answered in a language she didn’t understand, though the meaning was clear enough from their tone.

Tharx’s gaze shifted then, slowly, lazily, to her. When his eyes met hers, Aeliana felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. His eyes—alien, otherworldly—seemed to pierce through her, as if he could see every thought, every fear, every secret she had ever held. She wanted to look away, to shrink under that gaze, but something held her there, frozen in place.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Tharx stood from his throne. His figure loomed even larger as he descended the steps, each of his movements impossibly graceful for a creature of his size. The room seemed to shrink around him, and Aeliana found herself instinctively stepping back, though she had nowhere to go.

When he finally stood before her, Tharx was close enough that she could feel the cold aura that seemed to radiate from him. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable, his eyes studying her as though she were some kind of curiosity, a specimen to be examined.

Aeliana’s heart hammered in her chest. She was certain that whatever came next would be her end. The stories she had heard of what the aliens did to humans flashed through her mind—torture, enslavement, or worse. She braced herself for the worst, for the unimaginable pain that would come.

But it didn’t.

Instead, Tharx spoke again, his voice a low rumble that filled the space between them. “What is your name?”

The question startled her. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she had heard him correctly. Was he… asking her name?

“I… I’m Aeliana,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tharx studied her for a moment longer before speaking again. “You belong to me now.”

The words hit her like a blow. Belong. As if she were an object, a possession. Her throat tightened, and she fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. She had expected brutality, pain, but this—this cold ownership—it was somehow worse.

Aeliana didn’t respond, unsure of what to say, unsure if she was even allowed to speak. The soldiers had stepped back, leaving her alone in front of this alien king, her fate hanging in the balance.

Tharx’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he finally turned away, his movements fluid as he walked back to his throne. “You will be protected,” he said as he sat, his eyes no longer on her. “No harm will come to you while you are in my possession.”

Protected. The word rattled around in her mind, a strange contrast to the cold authority in his voice. He wasn’t going to kill her, or hurt her—at least, not yet. But why? What did he want with her? And why was he offering her protection when he had no reason to?

“Why?” she whispered, the question slipping out before she could stop it. “Why are you keeping me alive?”

Tharx’s eyes flicked toward her, and for a moment, she thought she saw something—something beyond the cold detachment in his gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“Because I choose to,” he said simply, as if that answered everything.

Aeliana’s mind raced, but there was no time for further questions. The soldiers moved forward again, taking her by the arms and leading her away from the throne. Tharx’s gaze followed her, but he said nothing more.

As they led her deeper into the ship, her mind churned with confusion and fear. She had been offered as a sacrifice, and now, she was nothing more than a possession—a thing to be kept. But what did that mean? What did Tharx want from her?

And more importantly, how long would this protection last before he changed his mind?

They brought her to a small chamber—barely more than a cell, with cold metal walls and a narrow cot. It wasn’t luxurious, but it wasn’t the prison she had feared either. The door slid shut behind her, and for the first time since she had stepped onto the ship, she was alone.

Aeliana collapsed onto the cot, her body shaking as the full weight of what had happened crashed over her. She had survived. But at what cost?

She was no longer Aeliana Fayden, the girl from Willow Glen.

She was his.