Page 7

RIVERA

T he corridor groaned around us, water dripping from cracks in the ancient ceiling. The dim emergency lighting flickered more erratically here, casting long, dancing shadows that played tricks on the eyes, making stable-looking floors ripple and solid walls seem to shift. Water dripped incessantly from somewhere above, the sound echoing in a way that made it impossible to pinpoint, amplifying the sense of being lost deep underground.

Varek moved ahead, taking point with an infuriating, animalistic grace I couldn't hope to match. His tall frame, which should have been clumsy in these narrow, crumbling passages, moved with silent efficiency. He tested structural integrity with a touch, a glance, an innate sense I couldn't fathom, his prehensile tail providing constant, subtle adjustments for balance on precarious ledges.

I followed, trying to place my feet exactly where his larger boots had been, my own balance feeling clumsy and inadequate. My scanner was nearly useless here; the ambient energy fluctuations and structural damage created too much noise for reliable readings. I had to rely on Varek's judgment and my own eyes, squinting into the gloom. I stumbled more than once on loose debris or slick patches of damp stone, catching myself with scraped palms, biting back curses.

He'd slow slightly when I faltered, a barely perceptible change in his pace, but he never commented, never offered help unless absolutely necessary. The silence stretched between me and him, thick with the tension of our forced proximity and the memory of... everything that had happened since I'd foolishly touched that panel.

We reached a place where the floor simply ended—a wide crack, a chasm at least three meters across, dropping into absolute blackness below. Varek leapt across it effortlessly, his tail providing perfect counterbalance, landing silently on the other side. He turned, waiting, his golden eyes impassive in the dim light.

I peered into the darkness below, my stomach twisting. "How deep is that?"

"Deep enough," he replied flatly, his voice echoing slightly. "You will not survive the fall."

"Comforting," I muttered, backing up a few steps. No choice. Taking a deep breath, I ran forward, pushing off the crumbling edge with everything I had. For one heart-stopping moment, I hung suspended over nothing but blackness, the damp, cold air rushing past me.

Then Varek's hands caught mine, strong and sure. His hands closed around mine, and I felt the spark before our markings even flared. My stomach dropped—not from the leap. From him. From the way he wouldn’t let me fall. The contact sent an immediate jolt through my markings—silver fire racing up my arms, met by an answering pulse of gold from his lifelines. The bond flared between us, sharp and startlingly intimate. He pulled me across to safety with an ease that nearly sent me stumbling into his solid chest again.

This time, he released my hands immediately, stepping back as if the contact had burned him too. His expression was unreadable, but the slight flicker in his lifelines betrayed... something. Disturbance? Annoyance?

"Your markings," he said, his voice tight, formal. "They respond to my lifelines."

"Yeah, I noticed." I rubbed my hands where the sensation still tingled, trying to mask my own discomfort with sarcasm. "Some kind of energy resonance, maybe."

He frowned, the expression deepening the lines around his mouth. "It's... distracting."

"Sorry my life-saving markings are inconvenient for you," I snapped, turning away before he could see the flush I felt rising in my cheeks. Distracting? Try terrifying.

He didn't reply, simply turned and continued deeper into the ruins, forcing me to follow. For the next hour, we navigated treacherous paths—narrow ledges crumbling at the edges, floors slick with mineral-laden water, sections where the very air seemed to vibrate with unstable energy. He moved with that infuriating Nyxari grace, while I struggled to keep pace, slipping once on a wet section of floor and barely catching myself on a protruding conduit, gasping as my scraped palms stung.

Varek turned instantly at the sound, his hand half-extended toward me before he visibly pulled it back, his expression a confusing mix of annoyance and... something else. Concern? Responsibility? "Are you injured?" he asked stiffly.

"I'm fine," I bit out, pushing myself up, ignoring the sting in my palms and the throbbing in my bruised shoulder. "Let's keep going."

He gave a short, clipped nod, but I noticed he slowed his pace slightly afterward. Not enough to be obvious, perhaps not even consciously, but enough that I could follow more safely without feeling like I was constantly about to fall into darkness. The small consideration was almost more irritating than his usual arrogance. Damn him. For all his rigid adherence to tradition and his suspicion of humans, he was undeniably competent in this environment. And, infuriatingly, protective in his own brusque way.

We turned a corner and stopped abruptly, both of us freezing simultaneously. The corridor ahead buzzed and crackled with lethal danger. Blue-white electricity arced violently from floor to ceiling in chaotic, unpredictable patterns, illuminating the passage in harsh, strobing flashes. A sharp, corrosive gas hissed audibly from damaged conduits overhead, its acrid scent burning my nostrils even from here. The air temperature fluctuated wildly—one moment a blast of intense heat washed over us, the next a wave of freezing cold that made my teeth chatter.

Varek studied the obstacle, his golden eyes reflecting the blue flashes, his posture shifting into tactical assessment. "We'll have to climb over." He pointed to a narrow, crumbling ledge that ran along the wall above the deadly energy field, partially obscured by fallen, sparking debris. "The debris will provide handholds, if it remains stable."

I examined the path he indicated—a precarious climb over energized metal, loose rock, with electrical discharges snapping mere inches away. One slip, one piece of debris giving way, and we'd be instantly incinerated or electrocuted. Suicide.

"Wait." I stepped forward, stopping him before he could approach the climb. "Don't climb." I closed my eyes, forcing myself to ignore the chaos, focusing inward, letting my markings respond to the energy field ahead. Silver light bloomed beneath my skin, a familiar warmth spreading as my perception expanded, reaching into the crackling energy.

Through my markings, I could sense the patterns—not just see the arcs, but feel the flow, the ebb, the surge. The chaotic discharges weren't entirely random; they followed complex patterns dictated by the failing systems feeding them. And within that chaos...

"There's a null zone," I said, opening my eyes, locking my gaze on the lethal field with newfound certainty. "A corridor within the arcs where the energy fields cancel each other out. It shifts, moves, but it follows a predictable sequence."

Varek's expression darkened instantly. "You want us to walk through that?" He gestured incredulously at the deadly display.

"It's safer than climbing over energized debris that could collapse at any moment," I insisted, standing my ground. "The null zone is about two feet wide. If we time it right and follow the path exactly , we can get through without being touched."

"Absolutely not." His voice hardened with the absolute authority of Nyxari tradition, the ingrained caution of his species. "That is madness! Trusting unstable energy? Your senses are unreliable! This is ancient power, not human circuitry!"

"My senses haven't dropped rocks on me!" I shot back, frustration making my voice sharp. "That climb is suicide, Varek, and you know it. This way is possible. Trust me!"

"Your markings are what activated the emergency protocols in the first place," he countered, his voice dangerously low. "Or have you forgotten why we're trapped here?"

I stepped closer, refusing to back down. "That was different! I interfaced directly then. This time, I'm not interacting with the technology, just sensing it. Reading the patterns. Like a diagnostic!"

"A diagnostic from untested human abilities interfacing with forbidden technology," he retorted, his tail lashing once behind him, betraying his agitation. "The Elders have forbidden direct interaction for generations. There are reasons—sound reasons born from catastrophe!"

"The same Elders who are watching your settlement slowly destabilize because no one will examine the technology causing it?" I challenged, hitting a nerve. "How's that working out for you?"

His lifelines flared brighter, golden light racing across his dark skin in response to my direct challenge. "You don't understand our history. The price we paid for arrogance."

"I understand enough to know when tradition becomes an excuse for inaction!" I pointed forcefully at the electrical field. "That climb is suicide. My way is faster and safer."

"Your way requires me to trust technology that nearly killed us both hours ago," he ground out, his jaw tight.

"No," I said firmly, meeting his intense golden gaze without flinching. "It requires you to trust me ."

The words hung between us, charged as the air around the energy field. Varek stared at me, conflict clear in his expression. I could almost see the battle raging behind his eyes – years of training, generations of tradition, the wisdom of the Elders, all screaming caution against the immediate, undeniable reality of our situation. He looked from the lethal climb back to the crackling field, then finally back to me.

"If you're wrong..." he began, his voice low and gravelly.

"I'm not," I stated simply, with absolute conviction I didn't entirely feel but projected nonetheless.

He studied the crackling energy field again, then the treacherous climb he'd proposed. His jaw tightened. After a long, tense moment, he gave a sharp nod. "Explain exactly what I need to do."

I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, relief making my knees weak for a second. "I'll guide you through. Step exactly where I tell you, when I tell you. The null zone moves in a pattern – we'll have to time our steps precisely."

"You first," he said, his voice still rough with skepticism.

I shook my head immediately. "It doesn't work that way. I need to concentrate entirely on tracking the energy field, predicting its shifts. I can't do that and navigate safely at the same time." I met his gaze steadily, holding it. "You need to go first, following my instructions."

For a moment, I thought he would refuse, that his pride or distrust would win out. Then, with another single, sharp nod that conveyed reluctant agreement, he said, "Begin."

I closed my eyes again, letting my markings fully activate. The energy field appeared in my mind as intricate patterns of light and dark, flowing and shifting in complex but predictable ways. The null zone moved through it like a twisting, invisible tunnel, winding but navigable.

"Step forward with your right foot," I instructed, my voice calm and precise despite my pounding heart. "Now. Exactly three feet."

Varek moved precisely as directed, his body tense, every muscle coiled, ready to react.

"Stop. Wait four seconds." I counted silently, feeling the hum of the field vibrate through the bottom of my boots. "Now left foot, slight diagonal to your right. Two feet."

Step by careful step, I guided him through the invisible safe corridor. Blue electricity crackled inches from his body, close enough that his golden lifelines reflected the light. The air temperature swung wildly as we progressed – freezing cold one moment, scorching hot the next. His trust in my instructions felt absolute, a tangible thing I could sense through the bond, contradicting everything his earlier arguments had suggested.

"Hold," I commanded when he reached the midpoint. The null zone narrowed here, barely wide enough for his broad shoulders to pass without contact. "The pattern shifts here. Wait." Sweat beaded on my forehead as I concentrated, tracking the complex energy flows. One miscalculation, one wrong step, and he would be hit with a lethal discharge. The responsibility was terrifying.

"Now duck and step forward quickly," I commanded after several tense seconds. "Two steps."

He followed perfectly, moving with controlled precision despite the lethal danger surrounding him.

"Almost there," I encouraged, my voice steady. "Right foot forward, then immediately left. Long stride."

Three more carefully timed steps brought him through the hazard, onto stable ground on the other side. He turned immediately, facing me across the crackling field, his expression a mixture of disbelief and something else – respect? It was hard to tell on his alien features.

"Your turn," he called, his voice clearer now without the field directly between us.

I shook my head, the motion small but definite. "I can't guide myself. The null zone is shifting too quickly now that the field has been disturbed by your passage."

Understanding dawned in his golden eyes, quickly followed by frustration. "You knew this from the beginning."

I nodded, meeting his gaze across the hazard. "One person guides, one person crosses. That's the only way it works with a field this unstable."

His lifelines pulsed with what might have been annoyance, or perhaps reluctant acceptance. "Then how do you propose to cross?"

"I don't," I admitted quietly. "I'll have to take the climb you suggested."

Varek's expression hardened instantly. "Unacceptable."

"We don't have a choice, Varek."

He studied the energy field between us, then the treacherous climb again. He spoke with unexpected, absolute determination. "I will guide you."

I stared at him in surprise. "You can't sense the null zone."

"No," he agreed. "But I observed the pattern as I moved through it. I felt the timing. My people are trained to memorize complex sequences under pressure."

"It's not that simple—the field is reacting, changing?—"

"It must be," he cut me off, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I will not leave you on that side."

The intensity in his voice startled me. This wasn't just duty or responsibility protecting an asset. This felt... personal. His determination to get me across safely was palpable.

"Okay," I said finally, trusting his memory, his focus, because I had no other choice. "Tell me what to do."

Varek's instructions came with military precision – each step carefully timed based on his memory, each movement exactly specified. "Right foot, now. Three feet forward. Hold four seconds." I followed his commands, moving through the shifting electrical field with my heart pounding against my ribs, my markings tingling with proximity to the raw energy.

Halfway across, disaster nearly struck. The null zone shifted faster than he'd anticipated, reacting unpredictably. Blue energy crackled suddenly to my right, inches from my arm. Varek shouted a warning—"Stop! Don't move!"—and I froze mid-step.

For three terrifying seconds, I stood surrounded by lethal energy, close enough that the hair on my arms stood up from the electrical charge, the smell of ozone burning my nostrils. I could feel the heat radiating from the arcs.

"Wait," Varek ordered, his eyes tracking the energy patterns intently. I could feel his focus through the bond, sharp and absolute.

"Now!" he commanded suddenly. "Three steps forward, quickly! Move!"

I lunged as directed, speed replacing caution. The energy field snapped closed just behind my heels with a loud crackle. The final steps brought me to safety beside him, breathless and shaking with adrenaline.

"That was..." I started, leaning against the wall for support.

"Reckless," he finished, his voice rough, though the anger seemed gone, replaced by relief. "But effective."

I noticed then that he was cradling his right arm, the one closest to the field as he guided me. A small, angry red burn marked his forearm where the energy field must have grazed him during his crossing or mine.

"You're hurt."

He dismissed it with a slight shake of his head, pulling his sleeve down. "Minor. It will heal."

We moved away from the energy field to a more stable section of the ruins. I leaned against the cool stone wall, trying to calm my racing heart. Varek stood nearby, examining his injury with clinical detachment, though I could sense the lingering throb of pain through our connection.

"Thank you," I said quietly, the words feeling inadequate. "For trusting my guidance. And for... getting me through."

He didn't respond immediately, his golden eyes fixed on the burn as if it represented something more significant than physical injury.

"Your abilities," Varek finally said, his voice carefully neutral. "They're more precise than I anticipated."

Coming from him, it felt like effusive praise. I managed a small, tired smile.

"The markings enhance what was already there," I explained, rubbing my own burned arm through my sleeve. "I worked with systems diagnostics, energy field analysis before... before all this." I gestured vaguely at my silver-traced skin.

He nodded slowly, still contemplating his burn. A strange tension filled the air between us – not hostile as before, but charged with unspoken thoughts, shifting perceptions.

"You contradicted everything I've been taught," he said finally, voicing the conflict I sensed within him. "Humans are reckless with technology they don't understand. They activate systems without concern for consequences." His eyes met mine, golden and intense. "You caused this situation."

I couldn't argue with that. I held his gaze. "Yes."

"And yet," he continued, the words seeming difficult for him, "your abilities – the very ones that caused this problem – have now saved us both. Twice."

I waited, sensing he wasn't finished.

"I've seen young warriors panic under less pressure," he admitted, his voice dropping slightly. "You remained focused, precise. Your methods..." he paused, searching for the right word, "...they have merit."

The acknowledgment hung between us, heavy and significant in its simplicity.

"The Elders teach that all ancient technology is dangerous," Varek continued, thinking aloud now, grappling with the implications of our survival. "That it must remain untouched, unstudied. But if the settlement continues to experience tremors and energy fluctuations... if the planet itself is failing..." He didn't finish the thought, letting the question hang in the charged air.

"Sometimes survival requires new approaches," I offered quietly.

He looked at me sharply, his gaze penetrating. "Even at the cost of tradition?"

"Especially then," I replied without hesitation.

Varek fell silent again, his lifelines pulsing gently beneath his skin. I could almost see the internal conflict playing out behind his golden eyes – generations of training and belief challenged by immediate, undeniable experience. His rigid worldview was cracking under the weight of reality.

"If the technology is already failing," he said slowly, the admission feeling like a betrayal of his upbringing, a fundamental shift in perspective, "and threatening the settlement... perhaps understanding it is not forbidden, but necessary."

The statement seemed to cost him something physical. His shoulders straightened, as if adjusting to this new, uncomfortable truth.

"Your people survived the Great Division," I pointed out gently. "They adapted then. Maybe it's time to adapt again."

His eyes met mine, golden and intense, holding a complex mixture of doubt, grudging respect, and nascent understanding. "Perhaps."

The single word contained volumes – acknowledgment, possibility, a recognition of value. The antagonism that had defined our interactions had irrevocably shifted into something far more complex. Not friendship, certainly not trust yet, but a recognition of necessity. Of a shared path forward, forced upon us by circumstance and amplified by the strange connection humming beneath our skin.

"We should continue," he said, pushing away from the wall, resuming the mantle of command, of duty, perhaps as a refuge from the confusing shift in perspective. "There may be other hazards ahead."

I nodded, falling into step beside rather than behind him as we moved deeper into the ruins. A small change, but a significant one. As we walked, I caught him glancing at me occasionally, his expression thoughtful, unreadable. Whatever he was considering, he kept to himself.

We moved forward cautiously, testing the floor ahead. The corridor seemed more stable here, the emergency lights flickering less violently. I took another step, shifting my weight?—

The floor beneath my feet gave way without warning, a sickening crumble of ancient stone and stressed metal.

My stomach lurched into my throat. A strangled cry escaped me as the solid ground vanished, replaced by empty, falling darkness.

"!" Varek lunged forward, his hand outstretched, golden eyes wide with alarm.

The floor vanished—and so did he. The bond stretched like wire in my chest, fraying as I dropped. It didn’t snap… but it screamed

Our fingers brushed for one fraction of a second, a spark of connection across the void, before I dropped into blackness, the sound of his shout swallowed by the roar of collapsing stone above.