Something was wrong.

My identification band, the cold, unyielding metal that marked my place in this hellish hierarchy, had changed. Yesterday, it displayed a Level 3-servant class. Today, the screen was blank. Empty. A smooth, dark screen where the designation should have been.

I had spent the whole morning trying to convince myself that it was a clerical mistake.

A glitch in the system.

The Zypherians were always updating the assignment systems. Maybe I was being reassigned to another sector. Maybe this was the start of a transfer.

Maybe I wasn't being erased.

Maybe I was-Lying to myself.

I headed to Central Processing, hoping to get it fixed.

The clerk on duty glanced at my band without much interest.

"It's malfunctioning," I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

He didn't respond right away. Just took my wrist in his too-cold grip and scanned it with a circular device. The screen blinked.

His silvered brow furrowed, the cobalt veins beneath his skin pulsing brighter as his internal systems processed the data. He scanned again. Then a third time.

"This is..." he paused, his voice grinding like sharpened stone scraping against metal. "Irregular."

"Irregular?" I frowned.

"You will receive further instruction before the cycle ends. Until then..." He gestured vaguely at my blank band. "Remain available for summons."

"But what am I supposed to—"

"You are dismissed."

I stepped back slowly. The door hissed shut behind me, and the knot in my gut grew tighter.

Something was happening. Something I couldn’t name.

Would I disappear next, erased like Noah—gone overnight, nothing but a gap in memories?

So when the announcement for the third Companion Pairing Ceremony came blaring over the intercom followed by a name that made my blood turn cold—

“Ruby 028,” it felt like a final nail in the coffin.

The other Level 3s looked at me in stunned silence. No one said anything. No one dared.

Level 3s were never called. The Program took only Level 1s and 2s-those who were genetically ideal.

But I had no time to ponder over it. Guards were already waiting outside my barracks by the time I reached the corridor.

I forced my legs to move, stepping into line with the other women.

I took my place at the end of the line, out of place and out of order, feeling the weight of eyes on me.

We were arranged neatly, dressed in the same garments as before, heads bowed, waiting to be assigned to the Zypherian warriors.

The ceremony proceeded with mechanical precision. Names were called. Each orb projected a swirling hologram above the chosen woman's head, an emblem of the house they were to bond with, alive with shifting colors and patterns that pulsed.

Sarah 003 to Commander Vex'hai of the Third Fleet."

"Miranda 017 to Captain Zor'thek of the Planetary Defense Corps."

"Elena 042 to Sub-Commander Kai'dess of the Mining Operations."

One by one, the women were paired with mid-to-high ranking Zypherians

I watched it all with growing dread, knowing my turn approached as

most of the pairings had been completed. Only a handful of us remained.

the overseer's voice cut through again, calling my designation

"Ruby 028, step forward"

I felt the orb above me ignite in brilliant emerald, the hologram folding open like a blooming flower of glass and light. The emblem of House Vaelthis materialized above my head, its serpentine crest writhing in holographic splendor.

My assigned mate approached, a mid-ranking warrior in Vaelthis-marked armor. Tall, lean, moving with precise, measured steps. At least he didn’t look cruel.

It could have been worse.

I swallowed hard and took a step forward, my legs unsteady.

I wasn't afraid. I told myself that over and over, like a chant. I wasn't afraid.

This was survival.

This was how the system worked

This was normal now. I wouldn't break down like I did last time. I'd learned my lesson.

I kept my chin up—

That's when the walls began to shift.

A section of the ceremonial chamber's smooth surface rippled like liquid mercury, parting to reveal a hidden passage I'd never seen before. The temperature in the hall dropped several degrees as something massive moved in the darkness beyond.

From that darkness a single figure strode forward tall, broad-shouldered, moving with a barely leashed urgency that made even the gleaming guards flanking the door waver.

Admiral.

My heart stopped. Then slammed back to life with violent force.

What? Why is he here?

I blinked hard, certain I was hallucinating.

His movements were sharp, urgent beneath the controlled grace. Like he was running out of time. Like something had driven him from whatever shadows he usually inhabited.

His golden eyes swept the room with urgency I'd never seen before, scanning faces with predatory intensity. He looked like he was searching. Hunting. His usual cold composure was fractured by something that looked almost like... desperation?

His golden eyes predatory, ancient, burning when they landed on me—

-it was like being set on fire.

I felt stripped bare. Every lie I'd told, every truth I'd buried, peeled back layer by layer until there was nothing left but a trembling core.

He’s looking for me.

The thought crawled over my skin like ice water.

He stepped down into the ceremonial space, each footfall measured and controlled. He moved with fluid grace that was both elegant and predatory, like death itself had learned to walk upright.

I stopped breathing.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, my entire body locked in place.

Tried to look away. Tried to pretend my knees weren't trembling with fear.

The warrior assigned to me remained frozen, his silver skin paling to the color of bone. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Smart male

My focus stayed locked on Kriudra as he moved like a shadow of inevitability, his golden eyes cutting through me, stripping me bare.

He stopped before me, his towering frame casting a shadow over mine.

Close.

Too close.

I was suffocating.

I could smell him, that intoxicating mix of metallic and spice that was uniquely Admiral.

My stomach twisted into knots so tight I thought I might vomit. My pulse pounded, a violent rhythm in my skull.

His gaze swept over me, down my throat, along the line of my shoulders, to the trembling fists at my sides, cataloguing every tremor, every silent plea.

For a blink, I saw something fierce and unguarded flash across his eyes—relief? urgency? and then it shuttered, replaced by an unreadable calm that terrified me more than open rage.

Above us, the orb began to pulse erratically

He reached for my wrist. His clawed hand, impossibly warm, grasped it with the gentleness of a vice. He turned it so that my identification band-blank, defective-faced upward.

It flickered.

Lines of alien script danced across the surface in chaotic patterns, like it was resisting whatever command he was inputting. And then-

It changed.

A single symbol flared into existence. Sharp. Elegant. Like a dagger carved from starlight.The symbol glowed white-gold on my band-an insignia I didn't recognize, but the Zypherians did.

"T'skiyla”

For a heartbeat, the entire hall seemed to vanish; there was only his voice—low, resonant, speaking the word like it was a secret made just for me. The sound curled around my name, threading through my panic with a strange, reckless warmth

The orb above my head exploded in brilliant light, projecting not a house emblem, but Kriudra's personal insignia, the mark of the Supreme Admiral himself.

Almost instantly, a faint warmth pricked my wrist. I looked down.

Barely visible, the thinnest white-gold lines had begun to thread across my wrist, delicate and precise, like hairline fractures made of light. They shimmered for a breath, subtle and ghostly, before settling into stillness.

The reaction was immediate and devastating.

“Impossible,” the High Arbitrator choked out. “The matrix—how did it—”

Zypherian voices rose in sharp, panicked exchanges. Even they didn't understand what was happening. Even they were terrified.

Guards shifted uneasily. Even the high-ranking officials on the platform exchanged glances of pure shock.

The Companion Program wasn't just a practical tool-it was built atop ancient tech that is a mystery to Even the zypherians let alone us human. An algorithm built into their bio-archives, said to descend from the early seers of Zypherian Prime. A choosing guided not just by logic, but by something deeper.

Something sacred.

And no one had ever seen the Matrix do this—rewrite its own code, reassign a human mid-ritual, imprint a Zypherian’s mark, No human had ever received a mark.

But the Admiral had just rewritten the rules. For me. Oh, God. What have you done?

My Vaelthis warrior took a shaky step forward. "Admiral, the assignment....she is designated for House Vaelthis—"

Kriudra's gaze shifted to him for just a moment. One look. The male fell silent, stepping back as if scorched.

That wasn't how this worked.

The pairing's was decided through an intricate system, one that didn't allow for personal interference. No Zypherian had ever publicly claimed a human before the official selection.

But he wasn't just any Zypherian.

He was their Admiral.

And no one dared challenge him.

I wasn't sure what happened next. I barely registered the confusion, the outrage, the disbelief.

All I knew was that Admiral's grip never loosened. That his eyes never wavered.

That I had just become something else entirely.

Not a companion. But something far worse. Something no human had ever been before.

His.

A low, possessive growl rumbled in his throat.

"T'skiyla,"

It sent a shudder down my spine.

A tall Zypherian stepped forward from the official platform. His armor was adorned with ceremonial glyphs, indicating status-probably one of the High Arbitrators or the overseer. His expression was neutral, but his posture was taut.

"Admiral," he said cautiously, "No human can receive the mark. The rites—”

“The system has authorized it,” Admiral cut in, not even looking at him. His gaze was locked on me. On his decision. “You saw it. You all saw it.”

“Unless the Council intends to challenge my invocation,” Kriudra continued smoothly, “I suggest we continue.”

That silenced the Overseer more effectively than any threat could. He stepped back, face pale under the shimmer of his dermal circuitry.

The hall obeyed.

Because there were laws.

And then… there was him.

No.

No, no, no

Not him. Not the man behind the disappearances. Not the ruthless force who decides fate itself.

Not the Admiral.

I can’t breathe. This isn’t happening. It cannot—please, let it not be real.

Something inside me split—more rupture than shatter, silent and complete, the way a ship’s hull bursts deep under ocean pressure.

I jerked my arm free, staggered a step—my heart battering so hard I could barely breathe. It felt as if panic itself had hands around my throat.

He remained motionless and silent, the weight of his gaze anchoring me in a reality I could not escape. The hush in the room grew unbearably tense, heavy as a storm caught behind glass.

I didn’t want to be seen. Not like this—exposed and trembling, stripped of every story I’d told myself about who I was or what my fate would be. Fear had teeth, nipping at the corners of my resolve

My legs remembered movement before my mind did and I tried to step back, tried to break the spell of the moment, but the world pressed in and the hand of a Zypherian guard landed on my shoulder, grounding me with the subtle violence of authority. Forced forward, I nearly tripped, and the sting of humiliation sharpened everything.

My throat tightened. This wasn't a ceremony anymore. This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. But it was.

The proof was in the silent terror of the humans watching. The rigid postures of the Zypherian elites, their surprise quickly calcified into acceptance, as if the room itself remembered what power looked like

They wouldn't interfere.

Because no one defied Admiral.

I steadied myself, forcing my head up as tears threatened, refusing to weep in front of these gods and monsters

The band on my wrist felt heavier. I looked down and the new insignia glared back up at me, radiant and implacable.

His mark. His claim.

A soft, terrified sound escaped before I could crush it. My hands flew to the band, frantically—useless—like I could peel away destiny with broken nails.

"Undo it," I choked out. "Pick someone else." I couldn’t keep the panic from breaking, couldn’t rebuild the wall around my words.

We locked eyes. There was something haunted in his expression—regret? Sorrow? Some weary recognition that this path, once chosen, could not be unmade. Then the mask returned, perfect and impenetrable, and with a word he commanded the world onward: “Proceed.”.

The room obeyed his command as though nothing had happened, but I felt the fracture line carved through me, deeper than bone. Names resumed. Voices echoed. But I couldn’t hear any of it. The ritual moved on—but my world didn’t.

When he turned back to me, every nerve in my body screamed warnings. His head tilted ever so slightly, the gesture almost curious.

"Someone else?"

His voice was soft, but not gentle. A blade sliding from its sheath. A whisper before the scream.

He took one step nearer, and I sank, breathless, beneath the tide of his presence.

"You do not grasp," He murmured "This is not a request. Not a decision you are permitted to deny."

I flinched, but he didn't move away.

"You will come to my quarters tonight."

It wasn't a request.