Zaria sat on the sleek and elegant chair, her fingers tracing absentmindedly over the smooth, metallic edge of table next to her. Across from her, Xyros stood near a window, his gaze distant, as if watching something beyond the shifting landscape of the Veilhaven Enclave. His robes, dark and edged with subtle lines of glowing script, whispered as he moved.

  “So,” Zaria broke the silence, tapping a finger against the side of the table. “This ‘Nexus Trial’ you keep talking about. You still haven’t told me what it actually is.” Her tone was edged with frustration. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds an awful lot like some elaborate torture experiment.”

  Xyros exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk ghosting across his lips. He turned to face her, his glowing eyes unreadable. “The Nexus Trials are not torture, Zaria. They are a test. A crucible designed to forge those who are ready into something greater.”

  She huffed. “Yeah, see, that still sounds like something I’d prefer to skip.”

  Xyros tilted his head, studying her. “You would rather remain untested? Stagnant?” His voice carried a quiet amusement, but there was something else—something that made Zaria feel like he was seeing through her, peeling back the layers she hadn’t even acknowledged herself.

  Zaria rolled her shoulders. “I’m a scientist. I prefer my tests in controlled environments where my survival doesn’t depend on someone else’s idea of ‘worthy.’”

  Xyros stepped closer, lowering himself onto a carved metallic bench, the surface shifting subtly to accommodate him. “The Nexus Arena is not about survival. It is about evolution.” He gestured, and the room’s ambient light flickered, forming a miniature projection of a massive, labyrinthine structure suspended in midair. Pathways twisted and shifted, pulsing with a life of their own. “The Arena is alive in its own way. It adapts, responds, and challenges those within it.”

  Zaria frowned, eyes flicking between him and the shifting projection. “So… what? This thing is going to throw random deathtraps at me and call it a learning experience?”

  Xyros’s expression didn’t shift. “It will force you to understand your own limits—and push beyond them.”

  She crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Sounds like a convenient excuse to watch people struggle for entertainment.”

  He studied her for a long moment before speaking. “The Nexus Trials are older than the Va’Skari themselves. They were built on the foundation left behind by the Ancients, a test woven into the fabric of technomantic resonance. Those who enter are not merely fighting for survival, Zaria—they are unlocking a potential that has been dormant for millennia.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And if I fail?”

  His lips curled in a faint smile, but it lacked warmth. “Then the Nexus determines you are not ready. And you will not progress.”

  Zaria let out a breath, shaking her head. “Fantastic. So it’s a high-stakes obstacle course with a judgmental AI. Got it.”

  Xyros chuckled, a rare sound, low and measured. “You underestimate yourself. The Nexus has already chosen you—it does not waste time on those who cannot rise to meet it.”

  She looked away, watching the mist swirl outside the window, uneasy with the weight of his words. “So, what? I just dive into this thing headfirst and hope I don’t get vaporized?”

  Xyros lifted a single brow. “No. You prepare. You learn. And when the time comes, you will step forward—not because you hope to survive, but because you must.”

  Zaria let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “You have a really dramatic way of saying, ‘figure it out as you go.’”

  Xyros stood, the light from the projection dimming. “There are things the Nexus will reveal to you that I cannot. But know this—” he reached out, tapping a glowing pattern along the on her forehead, and for a brief moment, Zaria felt something pulse beneath her skin, a flicker of technomantic energy responding to his touch, “—you are more than you believe yourself to be. And the Nexus? It will prove that.”

  Zaria sat stiffly across from Xyros, her fingers curling into the fabric of her lab coat as if gripping it tightly could anchor her against the storm raging inside her mind. The room around them seemed to shrink under the weight of his words, the calm pulse of its energy contrasting sharply with the turmoil within her. Every syllable Xyros uttered hammered into her chest, cold and unyielding.

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  The Nexus Trials weren’t just about survival—they were a reckoning. Not just hers, but her species’. The thought left her dizzy, teetering between anger and disbelief.

  She forced her voice to remain steady, though it quivered at the edges. “So let me get this straight,” she began, each word deliberately measured to mask the tremble of her lips. “We’re thrown into this… game… to prove to the Va’Skari that we’re worthy? And if we fail, they just move on? That’s it? Goodbye, good luck?”

  She scoffed, shaking her head, her disbelief spilling into the sharpness of her tone. “Why would anyone want to join them, anyway? My solar system—my people—have done fine without someone looking over our shoulder and deciding whether we’re ‘good enough.’” Her words caught on an edge of bitterness, her voice rising in defiance.

  Xyros’s calm demeanor didn’t waver, though a faint shadow passed through his eyes. He studied her as if weighing her words, letting the silence stretch until it became unbearable.

  “You misunderstand,” he said at last, his tone deliberate, soft yet unyielding. “The Va’Skari are not conquerors, nor apathetic overseers. They are caretakers of the galactic community, testing those on the edge of readiness to ensure they will thrive when they step beyond their own stars.”

  Zaria laughed dryly, a hollow sound that rang louder than she intended. “Caretakers? You call this care?” She threw her arms wide, gesturing to the room, the Trials, the very situation she found herself trapped in. “Because it feels like a bunch of sadists watching people scramble to survive for their own entertainment.”

  Xyros’s gaze didn’t falter, his expression remaining frustratingly serene. “You see only the surface, Zaria. The Nexus Trials are an opportunity—a mirror held to a species to reveal its strength, its adaptability. The tests are brutal, yes. But they are designed not to destroy but to forge something greater. To teach resolve, foster growth, and unlock potential.”

  He gestured around them, the dim light glinting off the faint circuitry pulsing across his form. “The Va’Skari do not offer these Trials lightly. They are a privilege, a way to prove a species is ready to stand among the stars as equals. Those who fail are not punished but left to grow on their own, to try again when the time comes.”

  Zaria’s hands tightened into fists on her lap. Her heart thundered in her chest, her mind torn between a flicker of understanding and a blaze of righteous anger. “And what happens to the ones who never get ready? What about the species who fail over and over again? Are they just… left behind? Forgotten?”

  Xyros tilted his head, a faint trace of something—regret? pity?—in his glowing eyes. “Not forgotten, Zaria. Never forgotten. But the galaxy is vast, and not all are ready to step into it at the same time. Some must wait. Some must change. And some… may never take that step.”

  The weight of his words pressed down on her, suffocating in its finality. Her nails dug into her palms as she stared at him, her voice quieter but no less fierce. “That doesn’t sound like guidance. That sounds like abandonment.”

  Xyros’s gaze softened, and for the first time, his serene mask cracked, revealing the faintest flicker of sorrow. “It is not an easy truth. But it is truth nonetheless. The Va’Skari do not interfere where readiness is absent. To give the gift of technomancy to those unprepared is to doom them to destruction.”

  Zaria looked away, her eyes fixed on the faintly glowing walls as his words settled heavily on her shoulders. The enormity of it all—the Trials, the stakes, her unwanted role—threatened to drown her. And yet, beneath the frustration, the anger, a small ember of determination stirred.

  “Then we’d better not fail,” she said quietly, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. She turned back to Xyros, her jaw set. “Because my people are ready. And I’m going to prove it.”

  Xyros’s gaze steadied on hers, his tone unwavering. “The Va’Skari do not force advancement upon those who are not ready. Interfering before a species has the resolve to wield technomancy responsibly would cause more harm than good. Some paths must be walked at their own pace, Zaria. The Va’Skari simply provide the tools for those who are prepared to take the next step.”

  Her arms crossed tighter, a shield against the uncomfortable truth lurking in his words. “So you’re saying this is all… for our own good? They’re just selfless teachers, handing out cosmic wisdom to whoever proves they can handle it?”

  Xyros’s lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile. “Selflessness is rare in the galaxy, Zaria, but so is the patience to nurture those with potential. The Va’Skari have spent millennia honing their knowledge, and they believe it is their responsibility to share it. The Trials are not easy—but neither is the road to true advancement. The Va’Skari do not seek to dominate. They seek to guide.”

  Zaria shook her head, still unconvinced. “Great. So they’re just… glorified gatekeepers with fancy technology. Why not just let everyone have access to technomancy? Why all the tests and trials? Why not give us a chance to figure it out on our own?”

  Xyros tilted his head, his gaze softening slightly. “Tell me, Zaria—would you hand a child a weapon and hope they figure out how to use it responsibly? Or would you teach them the discipline and restraint needed to wield it properly?”

  She opened her mouth, ready to argue, but found herself pausing. The metaphor hit closer to home than she wanted to admit. She didn’t like the idea of being treated like a child, but deep down, she knew there was truth in his words.