Page 21

SELENE

M y eyes fixed on the massive stone arch looming before us, its newly exposed minerals glistening in the diffuse light. I stepped through a cloud of steam, distracted by the impossible formation, and my boot sank into mud far softer than expected. My entire body tensed, anticipating a plunge through to whatever waited beneath. The ground held—barely.

"Careful," Kavan murmured behind me, his fingers brushing my elbow. "The crust here becomes unstable after eruptions."

"You think?" I yanked my boot free and wiped sweat from my forehead. Humidity clung to my skin, droplets running down my neck.

Vibrant turquoise and electric blue pools bubbled between crusty white mineral deposits, forcing us to zigzag across the transformed landscape. Steam jets shot skyward at random intervals like nature's warning signals.

"This isn't exactly the scenic route back to civilization," I muttered, testing another patch with my toe before committing my weight.

"It may be our only route." Kavan moved across the treacherous surface with natural ease, his emerald skin glistening with moisture in the strange light. "The tunnels collapsed behind us."

I knelt beside the closest pool, maintaining my balance. The steam carried a metallic scent, not unpleasant but definitely alien. As I leaned closer, my markings brightened almost painfully. What was this?

"Let's keep moving," I said, standing. "The sooner we reach safer ground, the better."

Kavan nodded, pointing to a ridge about half a kilometer away. "If we can reach that formation, we should have a clearer view of where we are in relation to the settlement."

Taking the lead again, I picked my way across the field, letting my markings guide me. When they dimmed, I changed course. When they brightened painfully, I backed away. Trusting these alien patterns etched into my skin felt bizarre, but they hadn't steered me wrong yet.

Beyond the hot springs, the landscape revealed the full extent of seismic devastation. What had once been a gently sloping valley now featured jagged ravines cut into exposed bedrock. Steam vented from earth cracks, creating an ever-shifting obstacle course of visibility.

"This is worse than I expected," I admitted, surveying the changed terrain from our vantage point. "I barely recognize anything."

Kavan stood beside me, scanning the horizon with his remarkable eyes. The Nyxari's vision exceeded human capability, particularly in these poor conditions.

"The settlement lies beyond those far hills," he said, pointing to distant formations barely visible through the haze. "But the direct path appears compromised."

A vast network of newly formed crevasses cut across what would have been our most direct route. Equally concerning were the glistening pools scattered throughout the lowlands—where acidic rain had collected in natural depressions.

"Those pools will burn through protective gear in minutes," I said, recalling my training on acid burn treatments. "And we don't have much gear to begin with."

"We need not travel through them." Kavan's tail swished behind him—a contemplative movement I'd come to recognize. "We must simply find the stable path between."

I glanced at my arm again, watching as the markings adjusted their luminosity. "I think... I think we can use these to find our way."

"The markings would historically have guided healers through risky environments to find medicinal sources," Kavan agreed. "They should respond to dangers as well as benefits."

We descended carefully from our vantage point, testing the altered landscape with every step. Ground I remembered as solid now broke away at the slightest pressure. Places I would have avoided now offered stable footing. My entire knowledge of this terrain had become useless overnight.

As we approached the first acid pool, my markings flashed a warning—brightening to an almost painful intensity. The pattern of illumination even seemed to indicate direction, brightening on the side facing away from danger.

"It's acting like a compass," I murmured, turning slowly until the intensity equalized across my forearm. "This way should be safest."

We wound through the hazard maze, sometimes backtracking when faced with impassable terrain. The ravines forced us into narrow paths between acid pools, requiring precise footing and absolute focus.

"Hold," Kavan said suddenly, his hand extended to stop me.

I froze, watching as he knelt to examine what looked like ordinary soil. He pressed his palm against it, and his golden lifelines pulsed rapidly. Without explanation, he stood and guided me two meters to the right before continuing forward.

"What was that about?" I asked once we'd passed.

"Thermal instability. The ground there sits above a developing vent. It would have collapsed under our weight."

I looked back, seeing nothing different about that patch of earth compared to where we now walked. "How did you know?"

"The resonance pattern in my lifelines." He flexed his fingers. "They detect vibrational variations, heat differentials. It is... difficult to explain in words."

"Show me," I said impulsively, extending my hand.

His eyes widened slightly, but he took my hand in his. Immediately, our markings responded, brightening at the connection. Through our bond, I sensed what he felt—subtle vibrations, minute temperature changes, a complex matrix of information flowing through the golden patterns beneath his skin.

"That's incredible," I whispered, reluctantly pulling away when we needed to move on.

We continued our navigation, each using our markings to detect different dangers. Mine responded more strongly to chemical hazards and radiation, while his better detected physical instabilities and thermal anomalies. Together, we found a path where neither might have succeeded alone.

"The writings in the facility mentioned symbiotic relationships," Kavan said as we crossed a particularly narrow ledge. "I believe this is what they meant—different marking patterns specialized for complementary functions."

"So we were designed to work together," I said, testing the theory. "Nyxari and human."

"Perhaps that was the original intent, before the Great Division. Before we lost so much of our knowledge."

The implication hung between us—that what Hammond feared as alien contamination might actually be the restoration of something intentional, something beneficial to both our peoples.

The first warning came as a subtle change in air pressure. My ears popped, and beside me, Kavan went rigid. His tail straightened, and his nostrils flared as he scented the air.

"Something approaches," he whispered, barely audible.

I scanned our surroundings, seeing nothing but steam vents and rocky outcroppings. Then I caught a flash of iridescence—a subtle color shift against the gray stone that didn't match any natural formation.

"There," I breathed, indicating with the slightest finger movement.

Kavan nodded once. "Trelleth."

My blood ran cold. I'd heard stories about these apex predators since arriving on Arenix—six-limbed hunters with iridescent scales that shifted color for perfect camouflage. Their twin rows of sensory appendages could detect both heat patterns and neural activity, making them nearly impossible to hide from.

"It doesn't hunt this close to thermal areas usually," Kavan murmured, slowly reaching for his makeshift spear. "The heat interferes with its sensory apparatus."

I watched the creature move into clearer view, its movements jerky and unpredictable. The Trelleth stalked forward, then suddenly retreated, its scaled hide rippling with color changes that didn't match its surroundings.

"Something's wrong with it," I said, my medical training kicking in as I analyzed its behavior. "Look at the erratic movement patterns, the failed camouflage attempts."

"The artifact energy," Kavan agreed. "It must have been exposed during the seismic event. Its system is compromised."

That made the creature even more dangerous—a predator acting outside normal patterns became unpredictable, impossible to counter with standard defensive tactics.

"What's our plan here?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"We need distance between us and it. Move very slowly toward that rock formation." He indicated a cluster of boulders about twenty meters away. "If attacked, separate and circle back to meet there."

We began our careful retreat, moving with exaggerated slowness. My markings pulsed in warning, responding to both the predator and something else—something in the environment I couldn't immediately identify.

The Trelleth's head snapped in our direction. Its sensory appendages extended fully, quivering as they processed our presence. Then it charged.

"Now!" Kavan shouted, shoving me toward the right while he darted left.

The predator hesitated, momentarily confused by the split targets, then committed to pursuing Kavan—the larger threat. I scrambled toward the rock formation, my markings flaring brighter as I approached a particular area.

I glanced back to see Kavan evading with remarkable agility, his tail providing perfect counterbalance as he leapt between unstable surfaces. The Trelleth followed, its claws tearing chunks from the ground with each bound.

Reaching the rocks, I noted a pool of vibrant green liquid nestled among them—another acid pool, but with a different mineral composition than the others we'd passed. My markings pulsed rhythmically near it, almost urgently.

Understanding dawned. "Kavan!" I called. "Lead it here!"

Without questioning, he altered course, drawing the predator in a wide arc toward my position. As they approached, I scooped up handfuls of loose rocks, testing their weight before selecting several.

When Kavan cleared the last obstacle between us, I saw the plan form in his mind through our link—no words needed, just pure tactical understanding. He vaulted over the acid pool, using his tail to propel himself farther than any human could jump.

The Trelleth followed, but I was ready. I hurled the rocks at its sensory appendages—the vulnerable target points Kavan had taught me about. My aim struck true, hitting several of the quivering stalks extending from its skull.

Disoriented and enraged, the predator missed its landing, plunging one limb into the acid pool. The effect was immediate—a shriek of pain as the caustic liquid ate through its scales. It thrashed wildly, losing balance and slipping further into the pool.

"Move back!" Kavan warned, pulling me away as the creature's massive tail whipped around in blind panic.

We retreated to safer ground, watching as the Trelleth finally extracted itself from the pool, its affected limb and side ravaged by chemical burns. With another shriek of rage and pain, it turned and fled, disappearing into the steam vents.

"That was..." I took a shuddering breath. "That was too close."

Kavan nodded, his breathing heavy. "Your strategy was excellent."

"Our strategy," I corrected. "I wouldn't have known its weak points without your knowledge."

He touched my shoulder lightly, and our markings responded in tandem, creating a momentary circuit of shared relief and adrenaline.

"You're bleeding," I noticed suddenly, seeing a gash along his side where one of the Trelleth's claws must have caught him.

"As are you," he replied, gesturing to my arm where a jagged rock had torn through my sleeve and skin.

Our eyes met, mutual concern overtaking personal discomfort. Without discussion, we began searching for a safer place to treat our wounds.

The sheltered hot spring we discovered seemed almost too perfect—a small, cave-like overhang protected a clear turquoise pool from the elements. Steam rose gently from its surface, not the violent jets we'd navigated earlier, but a soothing mist that filled the space with warmth.

"The mineral content appears optimal for healing," Kavan said, kneeling beside the water and letting his lifelines test its composition. "No acidic compounds."

I gingerly removed my torn sleeve, examining the gash on my arm. "Not too deep, but deep enough to need attention."

Kavan removed his pack, retrieving the few medical supplies we'd salvaged from the facility. His movements were careful, favoring his uninjured side.

"Let me see your wound first," I insisted.

He hesitated, then nodded, lowering himself to sit on a smooth stone beside the pool. I helped him remove the upper portion of his garment, exposing the full length of the injury—a long slash that curved from his ribs around to his back.

"The depth is inconsistent," I noted, examining the wound with professional detachment despite our proximity. "Deeper at the entry point, then gradually shallower."

"I turned away as the claw made contact," he explained. "A reflex action."

"A good one." I cleaned the wound carefully with water from the pool, noting how his lifelines brightened at contact with the mineral-rich liquid.

From our remaining medical supplies, I extracted a small vial of healing paste we'd created using both Nyxari traditional medicine and compounds from the ancient facility. As I applied it to his wound, I let my markings connect with his lifelines, using our bond to direct the healing energy more precisely.

"The integration of our techniques creates a more efficient healing matrix," Kavan observed, watching as the edges of his wound already began showing signs of accelerated regeneration.

"The whole is greater than the sum of its parts," I agreed, finishing with a light dressing. "Your turn to practice on me."

We switched positions, and Kavan took the same careful approach with my injury. His touch was precise, clinical, and yet... something else transmitted through our contact. Concern. Care. Something deeper that neither of us had fully articulated.

When he finished treating my wound, neither of us moved to break contact immediately. His hand remained on my arm, our markings pulsing in synchronization.

"We should rest here briefly," he suggested. "The healing compounds work more efficiently when the body is not actively stressed."

I nodded, too exhausted to argue. We settled beside the pool, close enough that our shoulders nearly touched. The warmth of the spring enveloped us, easing tense muscles.

"The water here," I said after a moment, "it has properties similar to what we found in the medical facility. Not just healing minerals, but something else."

"It enhances connectivity," Kavan confirmed. "In ancient times, Nyxari healers would commune in such springs, sharing knowledge through their lifelines."

"Should we..." I gestured at the pool.

His eyes met mine, a question in them. "It would be beneficial for our recovery, but the experience may be... intense."

The unspoken implications hung between us. Since using the Aschan Diadem, our bond had created moments of profound connection. Immersion in these waters might deepen that link beyond anything we'd experienced.

"I trust you," I said simply.

We removed our outer garments, keeping minimal coverings for modesty, and slipped into the pool. The water enveloped us like liquid silk, instantly soothing. My markings responded immediately, lighting up with silver brilliance that reflected off the turquoise water.

Kavan lowered himself opposite me, his golden lifelines creating complex patterns of light beneath the surface. When our legs accidentally touched underwater, a jolt of sensation shot through me—not just physical, but a flash of memory.

A young Nyxari child, standing before a circle of elders. The weight of expectation. A choice between warrior training and healer arts.

"Was that..." I blinked, disoriented.

"A memory," Kavan confirmed. "My naming ceremony, when I chose the healer's path against my father's wishes."

"I saw it. I felt it." I stared at him in wonder. "The pressure to follow tradition, but the pull toward healing was stronger."

He nodded. "My father was a warrior of great renown. The entire settlement expected me to follow that path."

"But you couldn't ignore your calling," I finished, understanding with perfect clarity. Not just intellectual understanding, but emotional resonance—I felt what he had felt.

"As you could not ignore yours," he replied softly. "Though your path came with different pressures."

Another flash—this time my own memory reflected back through our connection. My parents' disappointment when I chose medical training over the political career they'd mapped out. The arguments, the eventual acceptance tinged with lingering disapproval.

"We really aren't so different," I murmured, moving slightly closer in the water.

His hand found mine beneath the surface, and our markings intertwined in patterns of silver and gold. "Perhaps that is what these markings truly represent—not the division between our peoples, but the connection."