Dark Nine [18+]

Chapter Thirty-Five

Diana's POV

Surrounded by the beauty of Dark Ninth's flora, I walk outside while I hear a rustle in the shrubs around me, with Mars by my side. We're both watching the way the little feet run through the wet mud.

"So quick to stealth like his father," I whisper to Mars, as I close my eyes and hear the little man sprinting toward me. I reach down and lift him up – the baby grins, covered in moss and sparkles already, as he shows me scary looking metallic teeth – sharp triple canines on both sides, "Maelstrom," I scold him, "Don't run away from me – I'm your mama... and I'm the Galactic Queen! Show some respect!"

Of course, he has no idea what I'm saying, but his large dark eyes look at me and Mars, as he points a chubby hand at me, "Mo. Ga! Qween." his little voice is scared that he hasn't repeated what I said right.

My eyes widen.

So, newborns, on day one, run and speak.

Mars looks so proud, he nods, "That's right."

Maelstrom starts to wriggle and I feel like he has the zoomies, so I put him down and his stealth flickers on as he runs off again.

"I'm afraid to ask, how does he eat?" I look to Mars.

"Fruit and the dust is enough to sustain him," Mars answers quickly, "Don't worry."

"I'm not worried," I lie, and he slowly smiles and says nothing.

I keep walking, and he walks a little behind me.

"Why Maelstrom?" Mars asks darkly, "...we choose their names... not the females..."

"Tough," I grit my teeth, angry, "You don't like the name I chose?"

"I love it, actually, better than what I was thinking," Mars gets my attention by being so vague.

I spin to face him, slowly putting my hands on my hips, "What?"

"I was thinking, Diasphora," Mars looks me over slow, and I get a chill down my spine. Dia like Diana.

"Weird... Maelstrom is definitely better," I stand still now, as Mars approaches and places a hand on my belly.

"I wonder," Mars hums to himself, "...what E will do if he is the father this time..."

"I don't trust E, he's erratic," I whisper, "Cinta broke his mind."

"Sh," Mars looks beyond me, his nostrils flaring. He looks stricken by something.

I smell the air too.

And then I hear her.

Crying from far away.

I turn toward the crying, by one of the distant ruins.

Not just crying. It's sobbing. Grief.

"Stay here," Mars tries to command me, his tone dropping a whole octave – his whole body tensing. He uses stealth and silently sprints for the noise.

I do too. I can tell Mars will approach more hesitantly until he knows for sure what it is, so I just go closer, quicker.

I run around the back of the ruin and run inside.

Within the crumbling walls, in the centre on a patch of dirt, is a thin, frail woman, flesh and bone, her hands on a metallic pile of dust, crying as she runs her fingers through the silver ashes.

"Mama," she cries out and puts her hands over her face, screaming, "MAMA!"

I don't understand – why was a stray woman crying over Fey remains?