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I see warriors and elders who had gathered at the dwelling's entrance, drawn by the commotion. They murmur amongst themselves, their gazes shifting from me to the strange, salvaged equipment, to Neema, and finally to Jaro.

I hear the whispers.The alien healed herself. Her knowledge is strong. Jaro's bond is not a weakness.

Jaro kneels beside me, his amber eyes blazing with a fierce, relieved light. He takes my hand, his thumb stroking my palm. “They see, Kendra. They see your strength. Vex cannot call you a weakness now.”

His words, meant to be triumphant, land with a strange weight. I didn't do this for politics. I did this to survive. But here, on Xylos, survival and politics are inextricably linked.

As my strength slowly returns over the next few hours, a new dynamic forms. A fragile truce. Neema does not leave my side. She watches me, her old eyes sharp and assessing. The skepticism is gone, replaced by a barrage of questions.

“Tell me of this... biology,” she says, the foreign word awkward on her tongue. “You say all life is made of these... cells?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice still weak but clear. “Tiny building blocks. Each with a specific function.”

I sketch a diagram of a cell on my datapad, explaining the nucleus, the mitochondria, the cell wall. She listens intently, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“And your physiology,” I say, turning the questions back to her. “It's remarkable. The way your body metabolates toxins... the rapid healing... Can you explain theklo'vanfever? Is it viral? Bacterial?”

She begins to share her knowledge, not as spiritual mysteries, but as observable phenomena passed down through generations of healers. She speaks of energy flows, of balancing the body's inner elements, of plants that soothe the spirit as well as the flesh.

We are two healers from different worlds, speaking different languages of medicine, yet finding a common ground in the shared pursuit of knowledge, in the fundamental desire to mend what is broken.

I am still weak, still a prisoner in this strange, beautiful, dangerous world. But as I lie in Jaro's dwelling, the scent of the healing vine still faint in the air, I realize something has fundamentally shifted. My science, the very thing that made me an outsider, a contamination, might just be the thing that allows me to build a bridge. It might be the key to my acceptance.

And, just maybe, to my survival.

Chapter 14: CLAIMING RIGHTS

My recovery is a political event. I hadn't anticipated this variable. My survival, a direct result of combining my scientific knowledge with their tribal medicine, has not gone unnoticed. It has, in fact, become a talking point, a piece of evidence in the ongoing trial of Jaro's judgment.

The faction anointing themselves as 'traditionalists,' led by Jaro's charming cousin Vex, has twisted my success into a new kind of threat. I am no longer just a weak, foreign contaminant. I am now acunningforeign contaminant. One whose alien knowledge could corrupt their ancient ways. It's a classic political pivot, and I have to admit, it's strategically sound.

“He says your bond has tainted Jaro's lineage,” Kyra tells me, her voice a low, worried hum. We are sitting in Jaro's dwelling, the air thick with the scent of drying herbs from Neema's latest visit. The healer has become a frequent, if still slightly grudging, visitor. “Vex is using your recovery as proof that Jaro is turningfrom the ways of the tribe. He argues that our prince's judgment is compromised.”

“My judgment is sound,” Jaro's voice booms from the entrance. He strides in, his massive frame radiating a tension that has become his new normal. He's been in and out of council meetings for cycles, his face growing more grim with each one. “Vex is a scavenger, picking at old wounds to make new ones.”

He comes to stand behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders. His touch is light, but I feel the coiled strength in his fingers, the low, anxious thrum of his beast just beneath the surface. The heart-bond mark on my chest gives a sympathetic pulse.He's losing this fight.The thought is not mine, but an echo of his own fear, bleeding across our connection.

“What happened in the council today?” I ask, covering his hand with my own.

He sighs, a sound like stones grinding together. “Vex is citing the Ancient Concord. Obscure laws, not invoked for generations. He claims that a leader bonded to an outsider without the full consent of the tribe can be challenged for his blood-right.”

“And the elders are listening to this?” I ask, my own frustration rising.

“They are afraid,” Kyra says softly. “They fear change. They fear what you represent, Kendra. Vex gives their fear a voice. And a weapon.”

“So what now?” I look from Kyra's worried face to Jaro's rigid jaw. “Do they cast me out to appease him? Does he challenge you to a fight to the death? What's the protocol here?”

Jaro's hands tighten on my shoulders. “They have... proposed a solution.” His voice is flat, devoid of emotion, which is more alarming than his anger. “A way to legitimize our bond in the eyes of the tribe. To silence Vex's challenge and secure my position.”

“What is it?” I ask, a cold knot forming in my stomach.

He doesn't answer. He looks at Kyra, a silent, heavy command passing between them. She nods, her expression sorrowful.

“He wants me to tell you,” Kyra says, her amber eyes meeting mine. “He thinks... you will receive the knowledge better from me.”

Receive the knowledge. Not discuss the plan. Not ask my opinion.

Jaro releases me and moves to the other side of the dwelling, staring out the window at the bustling settlement below, his back a wall of unreadable tension.