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The doubt itself was heretical. Yet in the quiet darkness of our cell, with the human leader’s threat looming and the bond between us growing stronger by the hour, such heresy seemed increasingly justified.

Dawn light filtered through the small window, marking the end of our planning night. Soon, guards would arrive with the morning rations, beginning another day of captivity.

But this day would be different. Today, we would begin implementing our escape plan, starting with reconnaissance through the air passages Zara had identified.

I settled into a meditative pose, conserving energy for what lay ahead. Across the cell, Zara’s eyes opened, immediately alert. No gradual awakening, but the instant readiness of a trained operative.

Another quality I reluctantly admired in this human female who had completed the prophecy my clan had feared for generations.

The prophecy spoke of choice—always the choice. Perhaps that choice still lay ahead, not in whether the connection formed, but in what we did with it. In how we directed its power.

The thought brought unexpected comfort as we waited silently for the guards to make their morning rounds, for our opportunity to begin the first phase of our escape.

ZARA

Boot heels scraped, faded. The patrol rounded the corner. I counted seconds until shift change—four hours of observation revealed a three-minute window, the only gap in Hammond’s security rotation.

“Now,” I whispered, moving to the loosened wall panel.

Ravik joined me silently, golden eyes reflecting the dim emergency light. He knelt, massive blue hands making quick work of the fasteners. Cold metal met my fingertips, contrasting the heat radiating from him.

He hadn’t meant to touch me, but once he did, he didn’t let go. And the worst part was—I didn’t want him to.

He tapped his wrist, held up five fingers, clenched his fist, extended one.Fifteen minutes.That’s all I had.

I nodded, stomach tight. “Keep watch,” I murmured, gesturing my meaning.

The ventilation shaft was smaller than expected—purely airflow, not maintenance access. Rust flaked beneath my palms like dried blood. The chill metal seeped through my clothes despite the adrenaline warming my core. Every scrape of fabric, every shift of weight, seemed amplified. Fear of discovery was a physical presence.

The air shifted—stale sweat, metallic machinery, and something older, alien, clinging to the ruins. This place remembered secrets.

My markings tingled, reading the energy flows like braille—a constant, sometimes overwhelming reminder of how the crash changed me. Energy pulsed through the walls, raw, unstable. Hammond was tapping the ruins’ power directly, creating dangerous feedback loops. The engineer in me cringed; the part connected to my markings recoiled at the wrongness.

At the first junction, I paused, closing my eyes. Ghostly light patterns filled the darkness—energy flows transformed into instinctive knowledge. Cooler air from the left, smelling of electronics and sweat.Command center?Soft conversation drifted from a distant grate. The right passage hummed erratically, reminding me of the lab, of Claire strapped to a table, Hammond trying to force a connection with salvaged artifacts. A shiver traced my spine.

I chose left, sliding forward, cataloging turns in my mental map. Thinking of my old life—clean labs, orderly systems—sent a pang through me.

A faint red glow ahead.Sensor node.Salvaged tech, scanning for heat and movement. My markings sensed its pulse. It swept left, right, paused. Old tech, repurposed fromThe Seraphyne. A blind spot in the transition...there.

Moving only during the pauses, I inched past, sweat beading on my hairline despite the chill. The corridor beyond opened slightly. Perfect vantage point. Through a grate, I saw a monitoring station, salvaged equipment.Security hub.Jackpot.

Then I saw them. On a side table, near a charging station—a small pile of translator stones, perhaps half a dozen, carelessly grouped together. Small, crystalline, the distinctive blue-green hue. My heart hammered. With these, real communication with Ravik was possible.

Three guards staffed the hub, armed. Rotation every twenty minutes, confirmed by a wall timer. The stones sat unattended—likely confiscated during the initial Nyxari encounters or from prisoners like myself, then set aside. Risky, but worth it. My markings warmed slightly.

The grate wasn’t easily removable, but the hub connected to an adjacent small lab with its own vent access. I backed away, found the junction, squeezed through the narrower passage, shoulders scraping metal.

The lab grate had one corner fastener missing—sloppy maintenance, my advantage. I worked it loose until I could slip through. The room below appeared empty, dimly lit. Equipment covered workbenches: half-assembled tech, diagnostic tools, salvaged components. No active sensors.

I lowered myself silently, landing in a crouch. Markings tingled nervously. The connecting door to the hub stood ajar. Partial view of the guards. The pile of stones remained unattended, but reaching them meant crossing the visible doorway. Timing was critical.

I watched. One guard focused on monitors, one wrote in a log, the third paced. When the pacer reached the far wall and the monitor guard checked a secondary screen, I had maybe six seconds. Not much.

Deep breath. Wait.Now.I moved swiftly across the gap to a cabinet just inside the hub. Unseen. The stones were less than two meters away, but in view of the logging guard.

Distraction.My eyes landed on a climate control panel. Simple system, easily manipulated. Hand near it, not touching, I concentrated. Silver patterns pulsed energy.Click. Whoosh.Cold air blasted from the vents. All three guards looked up.

“What the hell?” the logger complained, standing to check the thermostat.