The gown waited like a trap.
Silken indigo—nearly black—woven with starlight threads that shimmered when she moved, as if the cosmos had stitched it just for her. It was sleeveless, slit high up one thigh, cinched at the waist with precision that made her skin crawl. As though someone had studied her curves in detail.
Bastard.
She didn't need to ask who sent it.
The moment the fabric touched her skin, she felt it.
Scrutiny. Control. Intent.
Her curls had been styled too—she didn't remember falling asleep, yet someone had clearly entered. Her hair twisted and pinned with a silver crescent comb. Her combat boots gone, replaced with hovering heels that made every step feel unnatural. The translator in her ear purred with new modulation—softer, laced with elegance.
"The Sovereign requests your presence in the Grand Hall." Stalker announces.
Of course he does.
If they wanted a petal, they should've picked someone else. I came with thorns.
The gown clung like betrayal. Every thread a whispered threat.
She walked beside the obsidian-armored Vraek—Stalker, her silent shadow—down a corridor sculpted from black marble and refractive crystal. The walls pulsed faintly with embedded lights, casting eerie reflections that danced like ghosts. Floating orbs drifted above, glowing like deep-sea creatures. Alien music wafted from unseen sources—low, thrumming, neither digital nor acoustic. Something primal. Ancient.
The doors ahead unfurled like petals made of alloy and stardust.
And she stepped into a galaxy.
The Grand Hall was an amphitheater of light and shadow—tiered rings of silverstone and bone, glowing sigils carved into each level. Delegates from across the stars filled the seats. Not one was human.
To her right: a serpentine figure cloaked in smoke, its face in constant flux—fluidly shifting gender, age, emotion.
To her left: a crystalline being covered in living tattoos that pulsed in time with its three hearts, each beat visible through its translucent chest.
Others shimmered with wings. Some slithered instead of walked. One had no form at all—just a shimmer of gravitational pull.
And all of them stared.
Because in the center of it all—
Nadyr stood like a coronation blade.
Silver hair swept back. Mantle draped over one shoulder. Tunic cut sharp enough to wound. The starlight caught in his gaze as he turned—
And saw her.
She lifted her chin.
If he wanted a sovereign's jewel, he'd get a star gone nova.
Kyla did not flinch.
She owned the threshold.
And the court stared. Half in fascination. Half in offense.
A human among Sovereigns. Unarmored. Alive.
Impossible.
And yet here she was—walking like she belonged.
He descended toward her slowly, footsteps echoing in the silence.
"You came," he said.
"I was told there would be wine."
YOU ARE READING
~ ~ ~Chains of Starlight~ ~ ~
Romance~ ~ ~Chains of Starlight~ ~ ~ An interstellar dark romance of captivity, rebellion, and a love written in the stars. "He bought her body. She took his heart. Together, they'll shatter the stars." Kyla Johnson was just another girl trying to survive...
