Page 17
Story: Alien Protector's Bond
She moved slightly, and my awareness tracked her without conscious effort—another disturbing effect of the bond. Her silver markings had settled into their new configurations, nolonger chaotic but structured, ordered in ways that mirrored proper lifeline formations.
She spoke again, her tone suggesting urgency. She gestured between us, then to her markings, her expression questioning. Though I could not understand her words, her meaning was clear enough.
What happened? What does it mean? What are we now?
Questions I didn’t have a right to answer, even could she understand me. Such knowledge was forbidden to outsiders, carefully guarded by my clan for generations. To share it would violate my most sacred oaths.
Yet in our present circumstances, with the human leader seeking to exploit both of us, with escape our only realistic chance of survival, practical necessity demanded some level of cooperation.
I shifted position, wincing as the movement triggered pain in areas still healing from the experiments. Despite the bond’s accelerated healing effect, my body remained damaged, weakened from multiple sessions under the crystal shard.
The human female—Zara, I reminded myself, now that we had exchanged names—noticed my discomfort. Her expression shifted to concern, that same impulse to heal that had driven her to initiate contact in the first place.
Before she could move closer again, I held up my hand in warning. Once was dangerous enough. Twice could deepen the bond beyond any hope of severance.
She nodded understanding, but her attention remained fixed on my recovering lifelines. Her fingers hovered over her own markings, tracing the new patterns with obvious fascination.
I would need to explain eventually. The prophecies. The danger. The reason my clan had guarded against this very scenario for generations.
But without shared language, such complex concepts were beyond our ability to communicate. I could only hope the bond itself would provide enough shared awareness to prevent catastrophe until we escaped the human compound.
And after that? After that, we would face the greater challenge—understanding what this connection meant for both our peoples.
I closed my eyes, attempting to center my thoughts through meditation. The disciplines of my training offered structure, control, perspective. I focused on my breathing, on the flow of energy through my lifelines, gradually bringing the chaotic surge from the convergence into ordered patterns.
When I opened my eyes again, Zara was watching me with obvious interest. She had assumed a similar posture, mirroring my meditative stance. The silver markings beneath her skin had calmed as well, their glow subsiding to a subtle shimmer.
She had sensed what I was doing and adapted it to her own physiology. The bond again, transferring knowledge without language. Useful, perhaps, given our circumstances, but deeply concerning in its implications.
She gestured to herself, then to the door, then made walking motions with her fingers. The meaning was clear enough—she was suggesting escape.
I nodded once, sharply. Despite the complications of our new connection, that much we agreed upon. The human leader represented a greater threat than our unwanted bond.
When she mimed drawing, I understood immediately. I cleared a patch of dirt on the floor between us and began sketching the layout of the human dwelling as I had observed it during my captivity. The pathways, the guard stations, the areas of highest security.
She studied the crude map with focused intensity, then added her own observations—different pathways, alternativeexits, air channels I hadn’t noticed. Her mind assessed tactical options with impressive efficiency.
We worked in silence for what must have been hours, developing a rudimentary escape plan through drawings and gestures. Despite the language barrier, we established a surprisingly functional communication system. The bond helped, providing impressions where gestures failed.
I indicated the narrow air passages she had drawn, then pointed to her smaller frame, pantomiming crawling through a tight space. She nodded understanding, then pointed to me—the question obvious. What would my role be?
I drew a simple diversion scenario—water vessels, objects carrying energy, creating confusion that would draw guards away from her path. Her quick mind grasped the concept immediately, and she began refining the plan with additional details.
As dawn approached, we erased our planning marks from the floor, ensuring no evidence remained for the guards to discover. Zara retreated to her side of the cell, maintaining the distance I had established.
Yet despite the physical separation, the awareness of her remained constant—a background hum in my consciousness. I could sense her fatigue, her uncertainty, her determination. Not specific thoughts, but impressions, emotional states that trickled through the new channel between us.
If my clan’s leaders could see me now—Shadow Canyon guardian mind-linked to a marked human female, planning escape in cooperation rather than maintaining separation—they would consider me lost, contaminated beyond redemption.
Perhaps they would be right. The convergence had changed something fundamental. The bond continued to develop, strengthening with each hour that passed. Would I still bemyself when this ended? Or would the connection reshape me into something my clan would no longer recognize?
Such questions had no immediate answers, and dwelling on them served no practical purpose. For now, survival took precedence. The human leader would return soon, expecting to use us in his dangerous experiments with the division key shard.
We needed to be ready.
I watched Zara’s silver markings pulse gently as she feigned sleep, maintaining the appearance of normalcy for the guards. The patterns were beautiful in their complexity, in their resonance with my own lifelines. Not an abomination as my clan had taught, but something more ancient, more nuanced.
Perhaps the prophecies themselves were incomplete. Perhaps there were aspects of this connection my ancestors had failed to understand, or deliberately obscured.
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