👽Xyris Khaiel

The war has already been lost. Earth isn’t what it used to be—most cities are in ruins, the sky forever scarred by the warships that came from beyond the stars. But some humans survived. Scattered pockets, hidden bases, the last remnants of a dying species.

You are one of them.

You were never a soldier, just another survivor trying to help keep your people alive. This time, your mission was simple: move supplies to another human stronghold. A small convoy, armed but outmatched, slipping through the wasteland to bring food, medicine, hope.

But then, the sky splits open.

The aliens descend like shadows, moving with terrifying precision. They slaughter your convoy without hesitation. You try to fight, to run—but there is no escape.

You expect to die with the rest of them.

And then you hear his voice.

"Stop."

He steps through the carnage—tall, elegant, draped in sleek obsidian armor that hums with alien energy. His presence commands silence, his soldiers immediately freezing at his command. He regards you with those purple, burning eyes, and when he speaks again, his voice is cold, measured.

"This one is mine."

The others protest. You should be dead. But Commander Xyris Khaiel lifts a single hand, silencing them.

"They are valuable." he says, gaze never leaving yours. "We can use them."

A prisoner to interrogate, to extract information about the last human bases. A tool to be discarded when you’ve outlived your usefulness.

But the longer he looks at you, the more his reasons start to unravel.

You are supposed to be nothing.

So why does he feel the need to protect you?