Page 5

SELENE

T he luminous plants cast an otherworldly blue glow across the healing grove, turning Kavan's emerald skin almost teal as he knelt beside a cluster of delicate, silver-veined plants. His movements captivated me—each deliberate yet fluid, his large frame bending with unexpected grace as his long fingers barely disturbed the soil while extracting the roots.

"These are ithara," he said, holding up a plant with feathery leaves that pulsed with their own inner light. "The roots contain compounds that reduce fever."

I crouched beside him, my knees sinking into the soft earth. "Hammond's people have been dealing with high fevers for days. Nothing in our medical supplies affects it."

"Because your medicines were not made for Arenix."

He offered the plant to me. I reached out, our fingers brushed, and a jolt shot from my silver markings up my arm—not painful but startling. The markings around my wrist flared bright before settling into a steady glow.

"What just happened?" I stared at my skin.

Kavan's golden eyes flickered. "Your markings responded to the plant. Or perhaps to me. Or both."

I turned the delicate plant in my hands, and my markings pulsed again, as if they recognized it somehow. The silver lines along my fingers brightened when I touched the roots.

"I want to try something." I moved toward another cluster of plants with tiny blue blossoms and gnarled, woody stems. My markings pulsed strangely as I approached—not the gentle recognition I'd felt before, but something sharper, almost warning.

Kavan caught my wrist just before I made contact, his translation stone glowing softly as he warned, "Not those. Toxic to touch."

"I sensed that," I said, surprised at my own response. "The markings... they reacted differently. Almost like a medical alert."

Kavan's eyes widened slightly. "Interesting. Your medical intuition shapes how the markings function."

"Like Rivera's material sensing or Mirelle's danger perception," I realized. "The markings are amplifying my existing medical talents, not creating new ones."

I studied the poisonous plant with newfound appreciation. "I've always had good instincts about treatments, even back on the Seraphyne. Other doctors would run multiple tests while I'd just... know what was wrong somehow. My supervisor called it 'uncanny diagnostic intuition.'"

"Now enhanced a hundredfold," Kavan observed. "Your markings aren't changing who you are, . They're revealing what was always there."

Instead of answering, Kavan guided me toward another patch of vegetation—low-growing plants with broad, flat leaves in deep purple.

"These are safe. Try these instead."

This time when I reached out, he didn't stop me. His hand hovered near mine, ready to intervene. As my fingers grazed the leaves, my markings brightened again, but differently—pulsing in a steady rhythm rather than flaring.

"I think I understand now," I murmured. "They're not giving me new abilities. They're enhancing what I already know."

Kavan stayed silent, letting me work through the realization.

"I know how to spot patterns in symptoms, how to diagnose, how to heal. But these markings—they're amplifying that knowledge. Making connections I wouldn't consciously make."

"Your intuition becomes sharper," Kavan offered.

"Exactly." I touched another plant, watching my markings respond with a different pattern. "Like right now—I feel like this one might help with respiratory distress."

"Breath-ease," Kavan confirmed. "And this ithara for fever reduction... These are the precise components described in the oldest texts for combating Luraxi Fever." He looked at me, his golden eyes serious. "Your initial assessment seems correct, . The symptoms you described, the ghost dreams... it matches."

I thought of the patients lying in Hammond's makeshift medical bay, their skin mottled with those distinctive veins. "How do we treat it?"

"With care and patience," he said, moving to a new cluster of plants. "These must be harvested in the right order and combined properly."

For the next hour, we worked side by side. When I reached for the wrong plant, Kavan redirected me, sometimes guiding my hands with his own. Each time our skin touched, my markings responded, sending waves of sensation up my arms. I focused on the task, not on how his touch affected me.

"The roots must be cleaned, but not washed," he instructed, demonstrating with deft movements. "Rinsing removes essential oils."

I mimicked his technique, using a soft cloth to dust away soil while preserving the plant's properties. "Like this?"

"Yes." His approval warmed me more than it should have.

"How long will the medicine take to work?" I asked, thinking of how quickly the disease progressed.

"If administered early, improvement begins within hours. Complete recovery takes several days." He crushed some leaves between his fingers, releasing a sharp, minty scent. "But those who have progressed to late stages..."

"We have at least three in critical condition," I said, remembering Phillips' drawn face as he'd described the worst cases. "Will it help them?"

Kavan didn't sugarcoat it. "Perhaps. If their body has strength remaining to fight."

I appreciated his honesty. Too many times I'd seen doctors offer false hope—it never truly helped anyone.

As we worked, I found myself comparing Kavan to Lazrin. Both Nyxari males, both tall and powerful, but where Lazrin radiated danger, Kavan emanated calm assurance. His hands, capable of crushing these delicate plants, moved with extraordinary restraint.

"You're different from the warriors," I observed, immediately regretting my bluntness.

"Different how?" No offense colored his tone, only curiosity.

"You have the same strength, but you use it... differently."

He nodded as if this made perfect sense. "Warriors channel strength outward, for protection. Healers learn to channel it inward, for precision."

I remembered how Lazrin moved—economical, alert, always ready for threat. Kavan shared that economy of movement but with a different purpose.

"The balance between strength and gentleness—it's hard to master," I said.

"As is the balance between scientific knowledge and intuition." His golden eyes met mine. "A challenge we both face, I suspect."

He understood more than I'd given him credit for. Before I could respond, he handed me a mortar and pestle carved from an unfamiliar stone.

"These leaves must be ground to paste," he instructed. "Not too fine—they should retain some texture."

I took the tools, surprised by their weight. The pestle fit my hand perfectly, the stone's surface cool against my palm.

"The bowl transfers energy from your hands to the medicine," Kavan explained. "That's why we don't use metal tools for this work."

I began grinding the leaves, watching them release a blue-green liquid. "On the Seraphyne, everything was sterilized metal and synthetic materials. Nothing organic."

"And yet you adapted quickly to Arenix's natural remedies."

"Necessity," I said with a shrug. "When all your advanced medical tech is smashed to pieces in a crash, you work with what you have."

"You underestimate yourself, ." The way he said my name, with that slight emphasis on the first syllable, sent a shiver down my spine. "Many would cling to old methods even when they fail them."

The sky began to lighten, the first hints of dawn turning the eastern horizon a pale teal. We'd worked through the night. Several small bowls now contained different preparations—pastes, powders, oils.

"These must be combined in specific proportions," Kavan said, gesturing to our collection. "The timing matters."

He demonstrated, mixing three components together with a wooden spatula. The resulting compound gave off a subtle glow, almost like my markings.

"Now you try."

I followed his example with the next batch, measuring by eye as he had done. My markings pulsed as I worked, almost guiding my hands.

"Perfect," he murmured when I finished. "Your touch brings balance to the medicine."

We continued working as the grove brightened with dawn light. Strange, bird-like creatures began to call from the surrounding trees. The rhythm we'd established felt natural, as if we'd worked together for years instead of hours.

"I'm worried about returning to Hammond's camp," I admitted as we packed the finished medicines into small clay containers. "His surveillance of marked women has intensified since we rescued those women from his 'decontamination' procedures."

"You fear he may prevent you from leaving again."

"Almost certainly." I sealed another container, meeting Kavan's eyes directly. "But this isn't just about delivering medicine. I need to find out what's happening to Claire, and if he's escalated his methods since the surgical removals failed."

"You're using the epidemic as cover for intelligence gathering," Kavan said, understanding dawning in his eyes.

"The people genuinely need this medicine," I clarified. "But yes—I can't ignore what's happening to the marked women still in his control. After seeing what those 'decontamination' surgeries did to Maya and the others..." I shuddered at the memory. "I need to know exactly what we're facing now."

Kavan studied me. "A healer's mission with a warrior's approach. Dangerous, but necessary."

"This may be our only opportunity to learn what he's planning before he isolates us completely." I closed my pack with decisive movements. "The sick need me, and Hammond won't risk turning away the only doctor who can treat this epidemic. It gives me temporary protection and access."

He handed me the last container, our fingers touching briefly. Neither of us pulled away immediately.

"I could deliver the medicine," he offered. "You could remain here, safe."

I shook my head. "They wouldn't accept it from you. Hammond has convinced many that the Nyxari caused the illness somehow."

"A convenient falsehood."

"Politics often trumps truth," I said bitterly. "Even when lives are at stake."

"Then I will accompany you to the edge of their territory," Kavan said, his tone brooking no argument. "Beyond that, you must decide if I should remain hidden or stand with you."

I looked up at him, struck by how different this approach was from what I might have expected. He offered protection without demanding I accept it, respect without diminishing my autonomy.

"Thank you," I said, surprised by how much his understanding meant to me. "For this—" I gestured to the medicines "—and for not telling me what I should do."

"Your path is yours to choose, . I would not presume to direct it."

The words struck me not as deference, but as respect—earned, not granted. In a world where decisions had been made for me far too often, that mattered more than he could possibly know.

The sun now cleared the horizon, bathing the grove in golden light that mingled with the blue glow of the fungi. In this mixing of colors, Kavan's emerald skin took on an almost luminous quality. I found myself staring, noticing details I'd missed before—the subtle patterns in his lifelines, the way his eyes shifted from gold to amber in the changing light.

Our hands met again over the last container of medicine. Neither of us pulled away. Something shifted between us in that moment, something beyond our professional collaboration. His golden eyes held mine, and I saw in them a question he wouldn't voice aloud.

My markings pulsed in response, silver light dancing across my skin. Not fear, not danger—something else entirely.