Page 18 of Selected By the Dragon Alien
That he hadn’t just kept secrets. He’d lied to her about everything.
She turned the pages with a mixture of dread and fascination. The early entries continued to be clinical, detailing the day-to-day operations of the settlements, the quotas for food production, and the various ways in which the Axis exerted their control over the Terians. But as the years passed within the pages, the tone of Ellion’s writing shifted. There were hints of doubt, of questioning the morality of his role. He wrote of the Terians’ suffering, their resilience, and their unyielding spirit despite the harsh conditions they faced.
Turi came across an entry that made her breath catch in her throat. Ellion had written about an encounter with a group of Terian rebels who had dared to challenge the Axis’ authority. The rebellion was swiftly and brutally crushed, but not before Ellion had spoken with their leader—a Terian male who had implored Ellion to see the injustice of their situation and to help them reclaim their freedom.
The journal did not reveal what had become of the rebel leader, but it was clear that the encounter had left an impact on Ellion. His entries became more introspective, more critical of the Axis. He began to document the small acts of kindness and rebellion among the Terians, noting them as signs of their will to survive and to preserve their culture and decency.
As Turi read on, she noticed a change in the handwriting. It became less precise. The sentences became shorter and filled with frustration and anger. Ellion wrote of his growing disillusionment with the Axis, of his desire to break free fromtheir grasp and to find a way to atone for his part in the Terians’ oppression.
The journal ended abruptly with a quarter of the pages left blank and untouched. There was no entry for the following month. It was as if everything had stopped. But it hadn’t. That last entry was dated about four hundred years earlier. Plenty had happened at the settlements between then and now, and Ellion was still very muchhere. She shut the journal with a head full of swirling thoughts.What happened?
Turi held the book against her chest, heart slamming against both, and raised her chin. The only way to get to the truth was to go to the person who wrote the book: Ellion himself.
TWELVE
Ellion sat on the edge of his bed in his private quarters, next to Turi’s room. He took pains to come and go when he knew she wasn’t there, or fly in on his balcony. It was exhausting and miserable to know she was so close, yet to not be able to touch her, see her.
However, his problems extended beyond the magnetic pull of the Terian female who occupied his thoughts. His fingers worked deftly with the needle and thread, stitching up the long, ragged tear in his wing membrane. The latest confrontation with the Hecrons had been unpleasant. They were getting bolder, inching closer to the settlements, and harder to negotiate with. It was his duty to keep them at bay, as the inmates had no weapons to defend themselves with. He’d need to think more creatively and find some way to compromise, or risk a massacre of the settlements and a lot more scars.
The pain from the wound was a dull throb, a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the fortress walls. He looked up sharply at the rustling of movement and upset female voices outside his room. The door slid open and Turi burst in. Her blue hair wild and her face flushed with anger and determination as she clutched a book in her arms. Ara wasright behind her. The Skrac’s shadowy form flickered and frayed around the edges with agitation as she tried to calm the upset Terian.
“Turi, wait! He’s injured—he needs rest!” Ara’s voice was urgent, but Turi was beyond listening.
Ellion’s heart leaped in his chest at the sight of her. It had been five days since he’d last seen her—five days of patrolling the borders, of fending off Hecrons, of worrying about her and missing her with an intensity that shocked him. The relief and desire that washed over him were almost overwhelming, but he kept his expression neutral, not wanting to betray his feelings of joy at seeing her. Especially now, since it was obvious that Turi was not here for a friendly visit. Her entrance was a storm, and she held in her hands an old, metal-bound book. He had never seen her angry before, and the full display of her temper was a magnificent sight. It was, unfortunately, directed straight at him.
“I don’t care,” Turi shot back at Ara, even as her gaze locked on Ellion. “I need answers and I need them now.”
Ellion broke off the thread and set the needle and thread aside, wincing slightly as he flexed his injured wing. He’d finish sewing up the tear later. “Turi, what’s wrong?”
Turi strode toward him. “I foundthis,” she declared, brandishing the book as if it were a weapon. Her voice trembled with fury and betrayal. “Why did you lie to me, Overseer?”
Ellion frowned. “What lies are you referring to?”
“Don’t play with me,Overseer.” Turi’s voice trembled with anger as she thrust the book toward him. “This…this is a record of the Terian settlements. Of us beingprisonersin a penal colony. Of you being an overseer for many centuries.” Her eyes shot emerald shards. “Youwrote this journal. Don’t deny it.”
Ellion took the journal from her, his fingers brushing against the cool metal. He opened the old book. It creaked at thetreatment as he scanned the pages. The pages within were filled with entries written in his own precise handwriting, spanning years he didn’t remember living. The weight of the past settled heavily upon him, like a chain of forgotten memories. It was strange to skim entries that looked identical in style and format to the ones he made now, each month, in his current journal. But these were too old to be his. He’d only been the overseer for a little over a century. He might recognize the meticulous records, the clinical descriptions of life in the settlements, but he had no memory of writing them.
“I’ve never seen this before,” he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “Where did you find it?”
Turi’s eyes, bright with unshed tears, narrowed in disbelief. “It was hidden in the library behind some other books. Ellion, your name is right there on the first page. This is your handwriting, your words, documenting centuries of Terian suffering and control. How can you deny it?”
The room seemed to shrink around them, the air growing thick with the gravity of her discovery. Ellion’s mind raced, grappling with the implications of the journal’s existence. How could he have lived for so long, yet remember so little? “I am not lying, Turi,” he insisted, his voice a low rumble. “I do not remember writing this.”
“Ellion, this journal—it’s very old.” Turi took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. “Could it be that you’ve forgotten?”
Ellion looked up at her, his mind racing. “Forgotten? How could I forget something like this? How could I forget six hundred years ofmylife?”
Turi’s expression softened slightly, but her voice was still firm. “I don’t know, Ellion. But if this is true—if you’ve really been the overseer for all these centuries, then everything we thought we knew about the Axis, about the settlements and about you, is all a lie.”
Ara moved closer. Her form took on her Terian-like shape. “Ellion, I think there are a few things you need to tell Turi, now that she knows.”
“Tell me what?” Turi’s expression hardened again. “Some of what’s in this journal is true, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Ellion rubbed a hand over his face as weary despair washed over him. He sat on the edge of his bed as possibilities about the origins of the journal sank in. The terrible chance that he might have been an unwitting pawn in the Axis’ cruel game for far longer than he could remember was almost too much to bear. As he looked into Turi’s eyes, he knew the time for secrets was over.
“Very well, Turi,” he said, meeting her accusatory gaze straight on. “No more secrets. Ask questions. I will answer them.”
“Honestly?” she pressed.