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Grips of Trepidation
Acolytes of Nezarec: Koraxis - II
The slow drag of Koraxis's injured leg made the trek back to his empty ship longer than it had been before. Persistent exhaustion made itself known between each pang of pain that jolted through him. He was thankful the captain's beating had been interrupted by another patron's fist long enough for him to skitter away, but the paranoia of being tracked lingered.
It felt as if an unseen force hovered behind him.
Koraxis pushed onward and kept his gaze forward.
When he finally made it to his ship, the airlock hissed open and revealed a dark space within. He ignored his usual precautions, too focused on the unbearable pain in his limbs.
The hammock he'd fashioned for himself called to him. He collapsed into it and didn't exhale until he found a comfortable enough position.
Sleep found him as soon as he'd closed his eyes; the fastest he'd achieved it in days. Forced insomnia and a surprise beating had taken its toll.
Then there was a knock on the door.
The moment Koraxis heard the rap on the metal, he reached for the gun on the shelf beside his hammock.
He approached the door with the most delicate footsteps he could manage; a heaviness weighed down on every part of him.
He hesitated, eyes fixed on the rusted metal. Rap, tap, tap, went the door…
The door creaked open, and he immediately aimed down his sights at—
Nothing.
Confusion crept into his mind, as something hit him—hard. Koraxis scrunched his four eyes shut. He was flung backwards and braced for impact.
But it never came.
Koraxis opened his eyes, expecting to see the walls of his Ketch. Instead, he saw the lunar Pyramid. Sleek and dark.
