Page 5

F inal preparations.

My pack sat ready by the door. I'd checked my recording equipment twice, ensuring fully charged batteries and cleared memory storage. If I wanted to prove my theories about the Shardwing calls, I needed clean recordings from multiple locations.

Night had fallen over the settlement. Through the small window, the twin moons rose—one silver, one blood-red—casting light over the vashkai structures.

Their glow created overlapping shadows that shifted as clouds passed overhead.

Inside the designated preparation space near the western gate, the air hummed faintly with the settlement's baseline energy.

Iros checked his gear with methodical precision. Each equipment inspection was deliberate, each placement calculated. He trusted his life to these preparations. Soon, I would too.

I ran my fingers over my recording device. This small bit of technology represented my purpose—to understand the patterns in the Shardwing calls. But would it be enough? We were heading into territory that had claimed lives, facing technology that had caused catastrophic failure.

The thought sent a chill through me. Tomorrow we would journey into the mountains, toward ancient technology that once caused destruction. Toward whatever disturbed the Shardwings. Toward the Aerie Kin who might not welcome us.

The reality of our mission suddenly weighed on me.

It wasn't just the physical dangers—the cliffs, treacherous passes, potential predators.

It was what awaited us. Powerful, unstable ancient technology that matched the energy signature in the Shardwing calls.

Tech I would likely need to interface with through my markings.

My hands trembled as I secured my pack. Images flashed in my mind—Hammond's laboratory, the sterile white room, the artifacts he'd forced Claire to interface with. Her screams when the connection failed, the sickening energy from the artifacts, her collapse.

We stood amidst the piles of supplies in the small staging room, the only light coming from the glowing wall panels and the twin moons filtering through the doorway.

"It's not just the ruin collapsing, Iros," I said, my voice small.

"It's the tech. That feeling... like Hammond's lab. .. energy out of control..."

I swallowed hard. "What if I can't handle it? What if it... breaks me?"

Iros went still, his golden eyes focusing with unexpected intensity. His expression shifted—surprise, then something more complex. Understanding, perhaps. He put down the climbing harness and turned to face me.

"I understand fear, Jen," he said, his deep voice serious. The use of my name rather than "human" caught me off guard. "My people carry the scars of unchecked power. The Echoing Caves represent our greatest failure. My fear is that we repeat it."

His admission surprised me. I hadn't expected him to share his vulnerability so openly. "What do you mean, your greatest failure?" I asked, grateful for the shift away from my own fears.

He was silent, his gaze distant. "After the Great Division, when our people struggled to rebuild, some believed the ancient knowledge could be salvaged, used for good. They thought they could control planetary forces, create stability where chaos reigned."

"Like the stabilization technology Rylis mentioned."

"Yes. They built systems to calm the mountains' rage, to prevent tremors and eruptions that had claimed many lives." His voice grew heavier. "But they didn't understand the complexity of what they attempted. The mountains have their own rhythm, their own balance—one that cannot be forced."

"What happened?" I asked, though I could guess from what Rylis had shown us.

"Catastrophic failure. The systems created resonance patterns that amplified the very forces they were meant to dampen. Entire valleys were destroyed. Those who operated the technology... their minds were shattered by the backlash, their bodies consumed by the disasters they triggered."

He looked at me directly. "That is my fear, Jen. That we enter those caves seeking answers and instead awaken greater destruction."

I absorbed his words, understanding now his caution about my theories. It wasn't just skepticism—it was deeply rooted cultural trauma.

"But your markings," he continued, looking at the silver lines at my wrists and temples.

"They seek harmony, not dominance. I've observed your reaction to the Shardwing calls.

You attune, not control. Your visualizations reveal patterns, not impose them.

Closer to our understanding of harmony than you realize. "

He paused. "And I will be there. Our combined strengths... they must anchor us both. Your senses, my knowledge of the terrain... we rely on each other."

His words still suggested connection—shared purpose, complementary abilities needed for survival—but felt grounded in the reality of their newly assigned partnership. His calm certainty eased the knot of dread in my chest.

"The Aerie Kin crystal reacted to my markings," I said, remembering the resonant hum that passed through me when I touched it. "If their technology is based on similar principles..."

"Then you may understand it in ways I cannot," Iros acknowledged. "Just as I can read the mountain's physical signs in ways your equipment cannot measure."

He was right. Our different approaches might be exactly what this mission needed—my sensitivity to patterns paired with his knowledge of the environment.

"You really believe that?" I asked. "That our different methods are complementary, not contradictory?"

He considered this. "The Great Division began with such conflicts—those seeking control through technology versus those seeking understanding through tradition. Perhaps healing that ancient wound requires both approaches working in harmony."

It was a surprisingly philosophical perspective from someone I'd initially dismissed as merely a skeptical hunter.

"The mountains will be loud," I said, voicing another concern. "The wind, the echoes... I don't know how my senses will respond. The settlement noise is already overwhelming."

Iros thought for a moment. Then he crossed to his pack and withdrew a small pouch. He opened it to reveal dried moss, deep green with hints of blue.

"Sorb-moss," he explained. "It absorbs sound when placed in the ears. Not completely, but it muffles harsh frequencies while allowing speech and important environmental cues. We use it during high wind hunts."

He offered the pouch to me. "It might help until you adapt to the mountain acoustics."

I accepted it gratefully. "Thank you. I... don't usually get such understanding about my hearing issues."

"Your sensitivity is both burden and gift," he said. "Like many gifts, it requires management and respect."

"It's been mostly burden since we crashed here," I admitted. "Except for the Shardwing calls. They're the only complex sounds that don't cause pain."

"Which suggests your markings are attuned to specific frequencies naturally found on Arenix," Iros observed. "That alignment may be more significant than either of us realizes."

I nodded. "At the settlement, everything is chaos—overlapping conversations, machinery, construction. It's like trying to pick out a single melody in a room full of people playing different instruments. But the Shardwing calls... they're structured. Like a perfect composition."

"And this journey may lead you to the source of that harmony," he said. "Or at least to understanding why it's disrupted."

"That's what I'm hoping," I agreed. "Not just for the Aerie Kin's sake, but for my own sanity."

He nodded, then returned to his preparations. But something had shifted between us. The acknowledgment of mutual fears had created a tentative bridge across our differences.

"What are those silver streaks in your hair?" I asked. "They're unusual among the Nyxari I've seen."

His hand moved to one of the braids. "They appeared after my first major mountain expedition, when I was exposed to a crystal formation in the high passes. Some believe they mark those the mountains have chosen to walk their paths."

"Like a kind of blessing?"

"Or a responsibility," he said with a slight smile. "The mountains give nothing without asking something in return."

"And what did they ask of you?"

His expression grew serious. "To listen. To observe. To honor the ancient balances." He secured a final strap on his pack. "Tasks that grow more difficult as Arenix changes."

"We should rest," he said eventually. "The journey begins early, and the first day's climb will be challenging."

"Right," I agreed, suddenly aware of my fatigue.

As we gathered our things, Iros paused at the doorway. "One thing more," he said. "The Aerie Kin will be wary of you. Your markings are similar enough to our lifelines to disturb those who have never seen humans. Follow my lead in the initial contact."

It wasn't a command but advice from experience. I nodded.

"And Jen," he added, his voice softening, "The tech that failed was built by those who believed control was possible. Your approach—seeking to understand patterns rather than impose them—aligns more with harmony than you might realize."

With that, he departed, leaving me to consider his words. It was the closest he'd come to acknowledging the validity of my research. Not full acceptance, but a beginning.

I gathered my pack and headed toward my quarters, the twin moons lighting my path. Tomorrow we would enter the mountains, facing physical dangers and ancestral failures. But tonight, I felt slightly less alone.

Iros's fears mirrored my own in unexpected ways. His ancestral dread of technology paralleled my trauma from Hammond's experiments. Different contexts, same concern—power without understanding.

As I prepared for sleep, I reflected on what lay ahead. The unknown in the western mountains. The Aerie Kin who might reject us. The ancient tech that might hold answers to the Shardwing distress—and possibly to my condition.

I still didn't know if Iros fully believed my theories about the Shardwing calls. But tonight, he had acknowledged the possibility. Tonight, he had offered not just assistance but understanding.

For now, that quieted the worst of my fears.

I laid my head down, listening to the settlement sounds. Tonight, focusing on what I'd learned from Iros, the noise seemed slightly less overwhelming.

Soon enough, Iros shook me awake, and we were on our way.The air was crisp with the scent of pine and damp earth.

I stood beside Iros near the settlement's western gate, packs secured, the weight both physical and metaphorical. The vast, jagged peaks of the western mountains loomed before us, ancient and imposing.

I took a steadying breath, tucking a small piece of the sorb-moss into each ear as Iros had shown me. The cacophony of the awakening settlement softened slightly, though the underlying hum remained.

Iros gave a curt nod. No fanfare, no ceremony. Just the quiet determination of a task begun.

He turned, his stride long and purposeful, leading the way out of the gate and onto the rough track that wound towards the foothills.

I followed, casting one last glance back at the familiar, noisy structures of the settlement. Then I turned my face towards the mountains, towards the unknown.