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I maintained neutrality, suppressing complex emotions. Guardian training demanded impassivity. This closeness, cooperation—necessary for survival. Nothing more. Yet as lifelines pulsed gently with her proximity, was I lying to myself? The connection defied simple classification.

She settled onto her mat, movements betraying fatigue. Human bodies needed more rest. Bruises from capture still visible.

“Rest,” I said, the word gentler than intended. “I will maintain watch.”

Surprise flickered across her features. “Wake me in four hours. You need rest too.”

I nodded, though I wouldn’t disturb her. Meditation served better than sleep for my healing. I’d maintain vigilance.

She paused. “We should hide the stones again. Too valuable to risk.”

I retrieved the crystals, returning them to their hiding place. The translators changed our interaction, allowed deeper communication. A tool, like the paste. Yet also a symbol of unexpected cooperation.

As she drifted toward sleep, her markings pulsed gently, silver patterns flowing like water. In the quiet, defenses lowered, I acknowledged a heresy: the markings on the newcomers weren’t our enemy. Perhaps they never had been.

ZARA

The ventilation shaft seemed narrower than before, the darkness more oppressive. Or maybe it was just the awareness of what we were attempting that made each meter feel like a kilometer. Ravik moved behind me, his massive frame somehow navigating the tight space with surprising grace. He stared at me like I wasn’t what he expected. Like maybe I was something he wasn’t supposed to want—but did anyway.

I focused on the path ahead, my markings providing a ghostly awareness of the energy flows surrounding us. We’d waited until the precise moment when the patrol patterns created our three-minute window.

The masking paste Ravik had prepared covered every inch of exposed skin, reducing the chance of detection by both guards and sensors. So far, it seemed to be working. The cool weight of the translator stone tucked securely inside my boot was a constant reminder of the risk we were taking.

I could only trust that Ravik had managed to conceal the other stone as effectively somewhere on his own person, despite his limited clothing.

“Junction ahead,” I whispered, the words barely audible but Ravik’s acute hearing would catch them. “Security hub to the left, command center access two junctions beyond.”

I felt his acknowledgment through our growing bond—a slight pulse that somehow communicated understanding. Three days ago, I would have recoiled from that connection. Now, I found myself leaning into it, using it as another tool for our survival.

We paused at the junction, listening. The soft hum of electronics mingled with the distant voices of Hammond’s men. I closed my eyes, letting my markings guide me. The silver patterns beneath my skin pulsed in response to the technology around us—reading energy signatures, data flows, security protocols that my conscious mind couldn’t perceive.

“Drone patrol, thirty seconds,” I breathed, the warning rising from instinct rather than direct observation.

Ravik’s hand closed around my ankle—a silent question. Left or right?

I tapped his hand twice. Right passage. The drone would sweep the left corridor first.

We slid into the ventilation system just as the maintenance drone hummed past the junction we’d vacated. The command center was close—I could feel the concentration of systems, the pulse of Hammond’s salvaged computers interfacing with the ancient ruin technology. My markings reacted more strongly here, almost painfully aware of the crude integration Hammond had forced.

The shaft widened suddenly, opening into what must have been a ventilation hub—a circular chamber about two meters in diameter where multiple shafts converged. Since entering the system, I could sit up, stretching my cramped muscles.

Ravik unfolded beside me, his head nearly touching the ceiling even seated. The dim emergency lighting cast hisblue skin in strange shadows, highlighting the golden lifelines that traced patterns similar yet different from my own silver markings.

“The command center is below us,” I whispered, indicating a large grate in the floor of the hub. “That access point would put us directly above their main console.”

Through the grate, I could see Hammond’s operation in detail—three men monitoring salvaged screens, communications equipment patched into the ruins’ power system, security feeds showing different sections of the compound. The information was invaluable, but not why we’d come.

“There.” I pointed to a smaller shaft branching off to our right. “That leads to the east section. According to the security feeds, there’s minimal patrol presence in that quadrant. Possible exit point.”

Ravik nodded, studying the layout below us with tactical precision. “How do we access the security controls?”

“We don’t need to,” I replied, my markings tingling as they sensed the systems. “If I can connect to the main power conduit, I can create a surge that will temporarily disable their security grid. It won’t last long, but?—”

A flash of red light from below cut me off. One of the monitors was blinking an alert. A guard leaned forward, frowning.

“Motion sensor triggered in Section C,” he reported. “Probably another system glitch.”

“Check it anyway,” another responded. “Hammond wants full sweeps on any anomaly.”