StarPyre

out for all to see, clear as day.
Things I didn’t want to see, or experience ever again flashed before me, out of my control.
My grandfather’s murder.
The time I caught my first love cheating on me with my cousin.
My abusive ex smacking me for turning him down.
Something happened; the screens fell away as the white sphere surrounding us disintegrated into darkness.
I felt as if I was free-falling in one fleeting moment, and the next, all of my senses returned to me in full force. My face was wet from the tears that had fallen while I was . . . whatever that was. I opened my eyes as the vice-like grip dropped from my face to see he was crying too, with his eyes still closed.
I didn’t care. Whatever he had done to me wasn’t natural.
He had no right to mind-fuck me, no matter if I was a criminal or prisoner to him.
Instinctively, I stood and slapped him.
The sound of the impact filled the deafening silence within the room.
He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze dulled as he cradled his cheek.
“Don’t you dare do that to me ever again!” I stepped close and gave him a quick shove on the chest. “If you ever come near me, that slap will be the least of your worries. I will stab your heartless eyes out and choke you to death with them. Do you hear me?”
Pushing past him, surprisingly without encountering resistance, I searched for my tankini top and gathered it. My attempts at putting it on failed; frustration and shock at what I’d just experienced had my hands shaking uncontrollably. I growled in anger. The straps that held my wings in place were getting in my way of tying the back of my tank top together, so I ripped them off and threw them on the floor.
After finally securing my tankini, I stomped on the prone cosplay wings for good measure, taking out all my frustrations on the delicate fabric. A series of gasps filled the room, but I ignored the three males.
Fuck them. I never wanted to see another set of wings in my life.
I just wanted to hide in a secluded corner, close my eyes and hope they died. Or at least left me alone. I needed privacy to sort through the emotional trauma of whatever psychic-sorcery-Wiccan mumbo-jumbo he’d done to me.
A stack of silver blankets in the corner caught my eye, reminding me of how fucking cold this dark room was.
They sure knew how to torture their captives, didn’t they?
We are captives, too.
I jerked my head toward the three males watching me on the other side of the room and locked gazes with the one who had spoken.
“Don’t. Talk. To. Me.”
I turned away before he had the chance to respond. I didn’t care if I was overreacting. What he’d done was wrong, and his two companions were just as culpable because they had stood by and watched.
Grabbing the top blanket, I wrapped it around my back like a hooded cape and sat down on top of the rest of the stack with my back pressed into the corner. I was determined not to allow them near me ever again.
Holding my makeshift hood closed, I allowed the cover to lull me into a false sense of security. Logically, I knew I wasn’t safe—nowhere near it. But at this moment, I needed the illusion to calm down and process.
All my senses screamed that something was wrong. What had happened to me was a violation, and I felt raw. All my walls had been torn down, and my secrets exposed. He’d taken my entire identity and put it out on display for him to poke and prod at. He was the surgeon, and I’d been his patient, though I’d been fully conscious and aware of his actions. All I could do was lie there, helpless, while he had picked apart my mind.
A torrent of tears rolled down my cheeks, blurring my vision as I gasped for air.
The weight of the bracelets on my wrists grounded me in the present. I thumbed one of them, tracing the engraving as I twisted it around my wrist. I tried to recall how I’d gotten into this cell, only to draw a blank. Grabbing the crown from my head, I stared at it for a moment as I tried to jog my memory.
Frustrated, I tossed the crown across the floor. The bracelets soon followed.
Pretty trinkets weren’t going to save me.
Somehow, I felt like nothing would.
Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the wall and sighed.
The last thing I could remember was being crowned the Star Queen. The judges had pointed a bright spotlight on stage to celebrate my first dance. After that, I’d woken up here, wrapped in tight white restraints and surrounded by strange voodoo cosplayers.
But that didn’t explain my dream-male’s golden—
Wait.
There was no way that cock was part of his costume. I’d seen too many specialty dildos and straps to know his wasn’t fake.
Had I fucked an alien?

Eight
AURO
“What did you do to her?” I demanded of our Cosmic Soul. Whatever he’d done, he had left her a sobbing mess on the floor. How were we supposed to get close to her now?
“Why is she so distraught?” Luwyn echoed.
My newest crew member’s wings drooped. He pulled them close as he looked away.
“I mind-scried her.”
“You did what?” Luwyn hissed, stepping close to Celyze. “How dare you abuse the abilities you were blessed with? And on a royal female, no less. Are you deranged?”
Celyze looked to me for assistance, but I didn’t know whether I could grant it to him. I had never asked him about his Cosmic Soul abilities or the Cosmic Order. His faith was his to work out personally. While I’d witnessed his capabilities to communicate over long distances and to heal wounds rapidly, all the other abilities Cosmic Souls were rumored to possess sounded like old, made-up stories.
However, Luwyn’s reaction to Celyze’s explanation was concerning. My