Chapter 21: Dysarchial Raptures
As Orion sat in his room, the quiet clink of cutlery against porcelain punctuated the stillness. Rahmat's cooking was perfect, as always, but the flavors barely registered. His mind was already elsewhere—three months before his fifth birthday, back aboard the shuttle after the Ascension Gala.
The low hum of the shuttle's engines reverberated through the cabin, a steady rhythm beneath Orion's feet. He sat across from his father, Cassian, who remained composed, arms resting on his knees, his eyes fixed ahead. The lights flickered slightly as they adjusted for atmospheric transition, casting shifting shadows over the Ashen Wolf's sharp features.
Orion knew his father well enough to recognize that he wasn't just here for a congratulatory visit. The man had arrived with the Krasnikov—his personal warship, one deployed only in war campaigns. That meant something serious was happening. And given the way Cassian studied him now, with the measured gaze of a commander assessing a soldier, Orion had a feeling this was about more than just his upcoming birthday.
Cassian finally broke the silence, a rare glint of approval in his eyes. "I gotta say, I was impressed back there. You handled yourself better than expected."
Orion smirked slightly, tilting his head, letting a slow grin spread across his face. "Jealous much? I mean, it's okay to admit it. I would say I handled that pretty flawlessly."
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you were. I mean, if I were you, I'd be a little threatened too. Watching the next generation outshine you, that's gotta sting."
Cassian scoffed, shaking his head. "As if."
"Sounds like it to me," Orion teased, crossing his arms. "Maybe next time, I'll let you take the spotlight. Wouldn't want the great Ashen Wolf feeling overshadowed."
Cassian let out a dry chuckle. "Oh please, like you could ever outshine me."
"Already did," Orion quipped. "But hey, no shame in second place."
Cassian rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. "Keep talking, kid. Let's see how cocky you are beaten into a pulp."