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SELENE

T he moss pulsed in my hands, its soft light brightening as I unwrapped Teyrin's dressing. The young Nyxari hunter winced but remained silent. Two months since I'd moved into their settlement, and I still found myself caught between admiration and frustration at their pain tolerance.

"You know, it's okay to tell me when something hurts," I said, keeping my tone light. I adjusted the translation stone at my neck, its familiar weight a reminder of the miracle that allowed me to communicate with Teyrin. The pendant glowed softly as we spoke, bridging our different languages effortlessly.

Teyrin's golden eyes met mine, puzzled. "Why would I burden you with information that serves no purpose?"

I sighed. "Because pain indicates healing progress. And I'd prefer my patients didn't suffer needlessly."

As I spoke, the silver patterns beneath my wrists began to glow faintly in response to the fungi. The markings traced delicate spirals up my forearms before fading at my elbows—a souvenir from the Seraphyne crash that still startled me when I caught sight of them unexpectedly. The fungi's light pulsed again, and my markings echoed the rhythm. I froze, watching the synchronized dance.

Damn it. Not the first time my markings had responded to Nyxari healing materials. The autonomous reaction disturbed me deeply, even as the scientist in me documented each instance with clinical interest.

"Your lifelines respond to the vashtka spores," Teyrin observed. "Like Kavan's do."

I pressed my lips together. "They're not lifelines. They're... markers. Side effects of the crash." Something about calling them lifelines made them sound permanent. Made me sound like I belonged here.

"The sky vessel brought you to us for a reason," he continued, unfazed by my correction.

I didn't answer, focusing instead on applying fresh fungi to his wound—a nasty gash from a territorial shardwing that had swooped down during yesterday's hunt. The sliced flesh looked better already, thanks to the remarkable properties of the organism. On the Seraphyne, this would have required stitches, regenerative therapy, and weeks of recovery. Here, with these seemingly primitive but remarkably effective treatments, he'd be hunting again in days.

"Kavan says you learn quickly," Teyrin added.

The mention of the Nyxari healer sent warmth through me that I pushed aside. I pretended the praise didn’t affect me, but my pulse betrayed me. Whenever Kavan noticed something, it lingered in my mind longer than I liked to admit.

"I've been a doctor for my entire life. Adaptation is part of the job."

"Before your vessel fell from the stars, you healed many?"

I nodded, wrapping fresh dressing around his arm. "Chief Medical Officer. Fancy title for the person who stitches up anything that bleeds." I secured the bandage with swift movements. "The Seraphyne wasn't a military vessel, but supply runs through disputed territories meant we saw our share of injuries." And deaths. Too many deaths, despite my best efforts. The crash had only added to that tally.

Teyrin flexed his arm experimentally. "Your healer's touch was strong even before the markings."

"My surgical rotation supervisor called it a 'sixth sense for trauma.'" I shrugged, packing away the unused fungi into its clay container. "I could find internal bleeding others missed, infections before they fully manifested." What I didn't say: how that "sixth sense" had intensified since the crash, how I could now feel illness beneath the skin with disturbing clarity, how foreign yet familiar these new abilities felt.

As I finished Teyrin's dressing, the young hunter flexed his arm again, testing the bandage's flexibility. "Hunt Leader Lazrin says you learn our healing methods faster than any human," he said, watching my hands. "Even with only partial markings."

"The fundamentals aren't so different," I replied. "Though your medicines work more efficiently on Arenix."

Teyrin's golden eyes studied me with curiosity. "Will you join a healing expedition soon? Into the deeper territories?"

"If I'm permitted," I said, packing away my supplies. "I still have much to learn about local remedies."

"If you do, request Kavan as your guide," Teyrin advised. "He knows paths others have forgotten."

Something in his tone caught my attention. "Because he's a healer?"

A flicker of amusement crossed Teyrin's face. "Because before he chose the healer's path, he was one of our most promising warriors. He trained under Northern Huntmaster Vhrek—the most feared combat instructor in three territories."

I paused, surprised by this revelation. "Kavan? A warrior?" The gentle healer who handled delicate healing fungi with such care seemed an unlikely fighter.

"Not just any warrior," Teyrin continued. "A shadow striker—those who train in stealth combat. The most elite hunting method." He touched his bandaged arm. "Why do you think his stitching is so precise? Years of blade work translate well to healing needles."

I recalled Kavan's careful, controlled movements—the subtle grace that seemed unusual even among the naturally athletic Nyxari. "He never mentioned this."

"He wouldn't," Teyrin said, rising to leave. "When he chose healing over hunting, it caused... tensions. His bloodline has produced legendary warriors for generations. His decision was not well received by his family."

This new perspective on the composed healer intrigued me. What would drive someone trained for combat to abandon that path for healing? And what combat skills might linger beneath that calm exterior?

The chamber's entrance curtain rustled. I turned, expecting another patient, but found Phillips standing awkwardly in the doorway. The young man looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes and a nervous twitch to his movements. One of Hammond's messengers, though never a particularly enthusiastic one. His presence here couldn't mean anything good.

"Dr. Carter." He glanced at Teyrin, then back to me. "Commander Hammond requests your immediate return to the human settlement."

"Phillips, I've made it clear that I'm needed here. The Nyxari have shared their healing knowledge, and I'm?—"

"People are dying," he interrupted, his voice cracking. "Some kind of sickness. Spreads fast. Already lost four."

My stomach dropped. "What symptoms?"

"Fever. Bleeding from the eyes. Confusion, then coma. Nobody lasts more than two days once it starts."

I cursed under my breath. "How many infected?"

"Eleven showing symptoms. Maybe more by now." Phillips shifted his weight nervously. "Commander said... he said he knows you've gone native, but if you're still a doctor, you'll come."

Gone native. Classic Hammond rhetoric. The commander's paranoia about the "contamination" of marked women had only worsened since Mirelle and several others had chosen to stay with the Nyxari. I had to go. Lives were at stake.

"I need to speak with Kavan," I told Teyrin, who had lingered near the entrance.

"The illness affects only humans?" Teyrin asked.

"Unknown," I said grimly. "But I need samples of the vashkai fungi and the fever-reducer Kavan showed me yesterday. I need to understand their properties before I can adapt them for human physiology, if it's even possible." I gathered my primary medical kit, mind racing through infectious disease protocols. "Tell him I'll meet him at the central gathering space."

Phillips sagged with relief. "You're coming, then?"

"Of course I'm coming." I fixed him with a hard look. "I'm still a doctor, regardless of what Hammond thinks of my markings."

Outside, the twin suns beat down on the settlement, casting double shadows across the vashkai structures. The "living stone" buildings gleamed with an iridescent sheen, their surfaces rippling occasionally. Even after two months, the organic architecture filled me with wonder.

Across the central clearing, Mirelle and Lazrin coordinated a team of Nyxari reinforcing one of the larger structures. The approaching seismic storm season. I'd almost forgotten.

Mirelle caught sight of me and waved. The silver markings on her face and neck caught the sunlight—far more extensive than my own. Whatever connection she shared with Lazrin through those markings, it went deeper than anything I'd experienced.

"What's Phillips doing here?" she called, breaking away from the group.

"Disease outbreak at Hammond's camp," I answered as she approached. "Sounds bad."

Her expression darkened. "And suddenly he's willing to trust a marked woman? Convenient."

"My thoughts exactly." I adjusted my pack. "But if people are dying..."

"It could be a trap," Lazrin said, joining us. The Hunt Leader's copper braids caught the light as he moved, his midnight-blue skin making the golden lifelines across his chest stand out vividly. "Hammond grows increasingly unstable. His messages to the settlement have become more threatening."

"Risks aside, people are sick,”I replied. "If there's an infectious disease spreading, I need to contain it before it reaches both settlements."

Mirelle frowned. "At least take an escort."

Lazrin nodded, his expression firm. "Mirelle is right. It is unwise to approach Hammond's territory entirely alone. I will assign Teyrin to accompany you—he can remain hidden, observe from a distance."

"No." My refusal was immediate, directed at both of them. "Absolutely not. Teyrin, any warrior—if Hammond's patrols spot any Nyxari near me, it confirms his worst suspicions. It could jeopardize everything, even prevent me from treating the sick." I met Lazrin's gaze directly. "I appreciate the concern, truly. But this initial approach must be made by me, alone. I need to go in as Dr. Carter, period. I'll assess the situation and return with samples for analysis."

"The approaching storms will make travel between settlements difficult," Lazrin cautioned, clearly unhappy but respecting my decision. "If you leave now, you may be trapped there for several cycles."

A concerning thought, but not enough to deter me. "All the more reason to address this quickly."

I turned toward the healing chambers, needing to consult with Kavan about the medicines, but stopped at the sight of him standing across the clearing. The healer's emerald skin caught the twin sunlight, his tall frame commanding yet somehow graceful. The golden lifelines beneath his skin seemed to pulse with unusual intensity. And in response, the silver patterns on my arms tingled, a subtle but unmistakable resonance.

Kavan approached, his movements fluid and deliberate. "You intend to treat the human illness," he stated. Not a question.

"It's my responsibility," I answered, willing the tingling in my markings to subside. "I need to bring the fungi and fever-reducer preparations you showed me yesterday. Understand their precise properties."

"Those preparations were not meant for human physiology," he cautioned. "The dosage would need adjustment."

"Which is why I need to study them first. Can you prepare samples I can take with me?"

His golden eyes studied me. "I will accompany you."

"That's impossible, Kavan," I replied instantly. "Hammond barely tolerates my presence because of my medical skills. He sees me as 'gone native' already." I gestured vaguely at my markings. "Showing up with a Nyxari healer, no matter how knowledgeable, would push him over the edge. He might refuse treatment altogether."

"You speak of a pathogen unknown to either of our peoples," Kavan countered. His voice carried the formal tone typical of Nyxari, but with a quiet intensity that left no room for argument. "My knowledge of Arenix flora might prove essential."

"Your knowledge is essential," I agreed quickly. "But not your presence. Not yet. Hammond is volatile. We can't risk provoking him when lives are at stake." My gaze met his, pleading for understanding. "Kavan, the best way you can help now is by preparing what I might need. Let me gather more information, and then your expertise becomes crucial."

His expression didn’t change, but something in the air shifted—like I’d just shut a door he hadn’t realized he was waiting to walk through. I hated how that affected me, how aware I was of him choosing to stay behind even when everything in me felt better when he was near.

He remained silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable, though the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed his reluctance. Finally, he gave a single, sharp nod. "Very well. I will prepare the samples you require." The golden patterns beneath his skin flared briefly as he inclined his head. In response, my silver markings pulsed with a warmth that traveled up my arms. This connection, this resonance, still disturbed me.

"Thank you," I said, relief washing over me. "I'll meet you back here once I've gathered my own equipment."

He turned toward his healing chamber without another word. I faced Phillips. "Tell Hammond I'm coming to help, but I make no promises about staying once the crisis is contained."

Phillips nodded, relief evident in his posture. "Thank you, Dr. Carter."

As he hurried away, Lazrin approached, his expression grave. "The storm comes earlier this cycle. The warning tremors already disturb the deep caverns."

"All the more reason to resolve this quickly." I checked my pack once more. "It's a long walk to Hammond's compound, and I need to move fast."

Lazrin nodded. "Swift travel may prove essential if the illness spreads as rapidly as the human claims. Be careful, ."

I nodded my thanks and headed toward my quarters to pack additional supplies. My mind raced through possible diagnoses—hemorrhagic fever, toxic exposure, parasitic infection? Without samples or direct observation, speculation was pointless. The silver markings on my arms caught the sunlight as I moved, their pattern distinct yet somehow complementary to the golden lifelines I'd observed on the Nyxari. Particularly Kavan's. Since the crash, I'd worked alongside him daily, learning the healing practices of his people while sharing my own medical knowledge. His willingness to exchange information contrasted sharply with the other Nyxari, who guarded their traditional knowledge jealously. That openness had fostered a professional respect between us that I valued deeply. But these physical responses—the way my markings reacted to his presence—hinted at something beyond professional collaboration. Something I wasn't prepared to acknowledge, let alone explore.

I reached my quarters and quickly gathered essential supplies—my diagnostic scanner (with precious little battery life remaining), basic surgical tools, and the medicinal compounds I'd created by combining Earth pharmacology with Nyxari healing traditions. A hybrid approach for a hybrid healer. The thought stopped me short. When had I started thinking of myself that way?

Returning to the central clearing, I found Kavan waiting with several sealed pouches. Lazrin stood nearby.

"The preparations you requested," Kavan said, handing me the pouches. His fingers deliberately avoided touching mine. "Labeled with contents and properties."

"Thank you," I said, securing them in my pack. "I'll return as soon as I have actionable data."

He inclined his head, his golden eyes conveying concern he didn't voice. "Be careful, ."

"Always." I adjusted my pack, ready for the long walk. "Wish me luck."

Lazrin gave a solemn nod. "Ancestors guide your path."

With a final nod to them both, I turned and headed out of the settlement on foot, toward the unknown crisis—and Commander Hammond—alone.