Project Prometheus Ch. 71 - Teaser (Patreon)

“You all know Qadira,” Alex continued. “She’s going to lead this briefing, and yes,” he added with a meaningful glance toward the rest of the crew, “before anyone asks — Adrijana and Ashaki have been read in.”

That sent a flicker of surprise through those who hadn’t been present the night before. Taal’ani leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly, but she held her tongue. If Alex trusted them with what was coming, she’d wait to see why. Qadira rose gracefully from her seat and stepped forward, her presence as commanding as ever despite her calm expression.

“This will be easier if we dispense with certain illusions,” she said. Her fingers moved across a hidden control on her wrist, and with a soft ripple of light, her disguise fell away.

The air around her shimmered. A faint ripple of distortion passed across her body, like reality itself was peeling back to reveal something far older—something far more magnificent. The illusion collapsed in a cascade of refracted light, and where Qadira’s subdued appearance once stood, there now stood a vision of ancient, otherworldly beauty.

Her skin gleamed faintly with a cool, luminous undertone, flawless and smooth like the surface of a still lake under starlight. Intricate metallic filigree arced across her high cheekbones and temples—living patterns of silver and opal blue that seemed etched directly into her flesh, catching the light as if she wore a crown of stars. Her eyes blazed a brilliant violet, their glow undeniable now, deep pools of ancient knowledge and sorrow.

She wore a high-collared spacer’s coat of advanced synth-weave, the material tailored to her form but clearly built for functionality. Reinforced panels at the shoulders, forearms, and sides offered discreet protection, while the fabric flowed smoothly over her frame, designed for freedom of movement. The muted opal blues and soft metallic silvers of her attire complemented her glowing features without ostentation. At her waist, a utility belt held finely crafted tools—practical devices with elegant design—blending survival readiness with understated grace.

Her long, flowing hair spilled down her back in waves, shifting from deep violet at the roots to a burnished copper at the tips, the strands catching and scattering the light in subtle, mesmerizing patterns.

This was no delicate, untouchable figure of legend—this was a woman forged by survival, a living remnant of a people thought long vanished, standing among them as undeniable proof that myth had become reality. Ashaki and Adrijana could only stare, their minds still reeling at this realization. But before either woman could process the sight, Qadira turned and gestured.

“Shazza, if you would.”

Already standing near the back, Shazza glanced toward Alex, a silent question in her glowing, iridescent green eyes. Alex gave a small nod, showing there was no hesitation. With practiced ease, Shazza reached up and tapped the control at her wrist. The disguise matrix fell away like ripples on a pond. In the space of a heartbeat, the quiet, unassuming figure was replaced by something entirely otherworldly.

Shazza’s skin gleamed like polished obsidian, smooth and dark as onyx under the lights. Her silvery-white hair spilled in thick, gleaming waves down her back, reaching just past her waist, perfectly maintained even beneath the elaborate horns that curved along her skull. They followed the elegant lines of her head, rising near the back and angling upward like a regal crown, leaving space enough for her to wear her hair loose without interference.

Her eyes were the most striking of all — luminous, iridescent green, almost glowing as they reflected the low lighting of the lounge. The alien beauty of her features was sharp, commanding, undeniable. Adrijana stood abruptly, her chair scraping back. Ashaki’s hand instinctively reached toward her sidearm before she caught herself, eyes wide with barely contained alarm.

Alex raised a hand calmly. “She’s with us, and she has been for some time.”

Qadira’s voice cut through the tension with the precision of a blade.

“Shazza is not your enemy. If she were, none of us would still be standing here. We’ll explain everything—how she came to be with us, why she remains, and what she has risked by standing at our side.”

She took a step forward, her eyes steady.

“But that isn’t the most immediate concern. There is something older. Something far more dangerous moving beneath the surface.” Qadira stated before she paused, letting the silence fall like a weight before she spoke the name.

“Ulvexi.”