Chapter 14: Built different

The cosmic void twisted and collapsed around Ezra, a sickening lurch stealing the breath from his lungs.

The endless darkness compressed, colors blurring into a multicolored tunnel before everything slammed into a single point.

It felt like being sucked through a cosmic drainpipe, pressure and cold crushing him, before a jarring thud knocked the wind from his chest. The sharp scent of ozone and stale blood hit his nose.

His eyes snapped open.

He was back. Asphalt pressed against his back, the cracked pavement still warm from the fight. The glowing blue hover-cruiser hummed above him, casting eerie light across the pavement.

Arya and Mireille, the two War-Ladies, were still there, striking fighting stances with their glowing swords, their faces twitching with alarm. It looked like they were waiting to attack him the moment he turned.

How long was he out for? Ezra felt like no time had passed at all, seeing how those two were still standing in the same spot as before, and holding their swords.

"He’s turning!" Arya yelled, her red blade pulsing brighter with energy.

"Be ready to strike! It’s a full conversion!" Mireille snapped, her silver braid whipping as she took a defensive stance, blue blade ready and pulsing with energy.

But Ezra wasn’t turning into the Fade. He was just... waking up.

The chilling cold and pressure he’d felt moments before weren’t the Fade taking him over; they were the last remnants of Astraea and Marea’s transportation.

His body still felt a little wobbly, but the burning itch in his side was completely gone. In fact, he felt strangely energised and tired at the same time.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, blinking at the two armed women, ready to start slicing with their intimidating blades.

"Whoa, hey," he rasped, his voice a little hoarse. "No need to use that, I’m not going to turn, I promise. Just had a... really weird dream."

Arya and Mireille stared at him, and then they exchanged a look.

Their swords remained aimed, but their expressions shifted from panic to utter bewilderment.

Considering Ezra was the weirdest male they had met, it was only natural that these two were surprised.

Was he going to turn into the Fade or not?

At this point, they didn’t know what to expect from him, because everything about him was weird. From defeating a Fade single-handedly, to refusing to turn despite being cut by it.

"He... he didn’t turn! He looks normal," Arya whispered, her voice laced with shock. "The scratch was direct. He should be fully Faded by now."

Mireille lowered her blue blade by a fraction, her eyes narrowed, studying him. "Impossible. No male has ever resisted the Fade’s touch this long, let alone after a direct wound."

Her gaze swept over the mangled remains of the Faded Ryan beside him. "And you... you put that down? By hand?"

"Yeah, as painful as it was, I had to," Ezra responded. Still a bit not happy with himself for having to kill his own friend.

Well, technically, it was not his friend anymore, but just his body, and so, he didn’t actually hurt him. If anyone was to blame for this, it was the entity that had started the Fade.

Ezra slowly pushed himself to his feet, feeling the new surge of strength from the Eros Engine already working through him.

He was about to stretch his arms.

"Hold it. One wrong move and I put you down," Mireille threatened as she raised her sword again in anticipation of his attack.

They still didn’t know if he was going to turn or not, so they had to be on alert for when he turned.

Ezra froze, hands halfway up. For a second, he was genuinely worried. Then he remembered who he was. If it came down to it, she’d have a hard time stopping him. So no, he wasn’t too worried.

A disarming smile crossed his lips, more instinct than confidence.

"Easy, ladies. I promise—I’m not turning."

His eyes flicked to the mangled corpse of what used to be Ryan. His stomach twisted.

Not my friend anymore, he reminded himself. Just a husk. Blame the Fade... or whoever started it.

Arya lowered her blade, the opposite of what Mireille was doing, and then she said, "I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s been a few minutes now and he still hasn’t turned. Usually, they turn within seconds, so this is unprecedented. We need to get him to the Citadel for immediate study."

She then turned to Ezra and asked, "How are you feeling?"

The aches from the fight were fading, and his mind felt sharper, clearer. He glanced at his side; the scratch was still there, a jagged line, but it no longer burned or itched. It was just... a cut. He guessed it didn’t heal quickly because he still didn’t have healing powers yet.

"I’m feeling better than before," Ezra said, offering them a tired, cocky grin.

"No need to lie. Just because you’re tired from fighting the Fade, it doesn’t mean we’ll do anything bad to you," Arya said softly, trying to get him to speak the truth.

"I am okay, honestly," Ezra said. Although, in all honesty, the guy was tired as hell.

It was hard to explain how he was really feeling at the moment.

Because on the other hand, he felt energised, but he still felt like he needed to get some sleep.

"Strange. If that’s true, you might be the weirdest man I’ve ever come across," Mireille commented, looking truly intrigued by him.

Although she was hoping that he wasn’t holding off on turning until they had let their guard down so he could attack.

"I told you. Maybe I’m just built differently." Ezra dusted himself off, eyeing their impressive power armor that clung to their curvy bodies. He noticed how Mireille looked very attractive with her stern expression.

"So, ’detained’ is still on the table, or are we going to skip straight to the ’hero’s welcome’ part now that I didn’t sprout tentacles?"

Mireille’s stern features remained — in fact, they worsened slightly at his comment. "You’re still coming with us. We can’t risk you turning into a Fade later on and causing trouble. And if you really do have ’immunity,’ that needs to be registered. And analyzed." She gestured toward the hover-cruiser. "Get in."

Ezra knew what she meant by needing to be analyzed — possibly meaning that he was going to be some lab rat. But he would never allow that.

Ezra shrugged, swaying slightly. The exhaustion was still there, a dull ache beneath the new hum of power, but it was manageable.

"Lead the way. Just tell me this ’Citadel’ has a cafeteria. This whole ’fighting your zombified best friend’ thing really works up an appetite." He managed a tired grin. "And maybe a shower. This outfit’s seen better days."

Arya actually let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle, quickly masked as Mireille shot her a warning glance.

They walked inside the cruiser. It was very techy inside, and it looked bigger than it looked outside, with rows of cushioned seats lining the walls, a control panel that caught Ezra’s eye with holographic displays at the front, and weapon racks built into the bulkheads, gleaming with more of their futuristic, glowing blades and other weapons.

The air was better — it smelled faintly of ozone and disinfectant, very different from the grim scent of the street outside.

"The paramedics will arrive soon and take care of the Fade’s remains," Arya said to him, talking about the thing that used to be Ryan.

Ezra gave a nod.

"Strap in," Mireille ordered, her voice commanding as she took a position at the control panel, her fingers precisely moving over the holographic keys. Arya, with a softer gesture, pointed Ezra to a seat.

Ezra settled into the surprisingly comfortable chair. The hum of the engines thrummed in his bones as the cruiser lifted off.