Page 7

T he cell grew colder as night descended.

I could feel the temperature drop through the metal floor beneath me, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Ravik across the small space.

Beyond our walls, the hum of portable generators created a persistent background drone, punctuated by occasional distant voices and the metallic clang of equipment being moved.

He hadn’t moved in hours, sitting with his back against the wall, head tilted slightly forward so his copper-blond braids fell across his face.

The intricate metal beads woven into them occasionally caught the dim light that filtered through the small, barred window near the ceiling.

Despite his stillness, I could tell he was hurting.

His breathing had grown increasingly labored, and occasionally, the golden lines beneath his blue skin flickered weakly, like failing circuitry. The flickering triggered a response in my own markings—a faint itch, almost like static electricity dancing just beneath my skin.

I rubbed my forearms absently, trying to dispel the sensation. I’d spent the afternoon mapping our prison—counting steps between walls, noting the guard rotation patterns (three shifts, with the midnight team most lax), studying the lock mechanism when they brought our meager evening rations.

Standard salvaged Seraphyne tech, probably rerouted from emergency systems. Nothing I couldn’t bypass with the right tools.

But watching Ravik’s suffering, my focus shifted.

“They’re experimenting on you, aren’t they?” I kept my voice low, barely audible above the mechanical hum of the base. “With the crystal shard.”

He didn’t respond. No surprise there—he hadn’t acknowledged a single thing I’d said since they’d thrown me in here.

The muscles in his jaw tightened slightly, the only indication he’d heard me at all. But something about his pain struck a chord in me.

Hammond had done this to him. The same man who’d hunted me, who’d tried to “purify” the other marked women by carving the silver patterns from their flesh.

I’d seen the results of those “procedures” firsthand—the scarring, the trauma, the women who never woke up. I moved closer, stopping when his body tensed.

The thin fabric of my uniform scraped against the rough stone floor. “Your lifelines,” I said, gesturing to the golden patterns that traced elegant arcs and spirals beneath his blue skin. “They’re damaged.”

Again, silence. But this time I noticed something—a subtle response in my own markings when I focused on his golden lines.

A faint warmth spread through the silver patterns on my forearms, almost like recognition. The static sensation transformed into something more focused, a gentle pressure pushing outward.

Curious, I concentrated on that sensation, and the warmth intensified. My markings began to respond, the silver lines brightening slightly in the dim cell, casting faint light across the stone floor between us.

The smell of ozone, faint but distinct, filled the air. Ravik’s head snapped up, golden eyes suddenly alert, pupils contracting to pinpoints.

In the silver glow, I could see his face clearly for the first time—strong features, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a tightly set jaw.

Despite his weakened state, power radiated from him.

He looked at me like he was trying to figure out whether I was a threat.

.. or the answer to a question he’d never meant to ask.

He gestured sharply, slicing his hand through the air with obvious meaning: stop.

I couldn’t. Because since my markings first appeared, they felt... right.

Not the usual chaotic static that had plagued me since the crash, but something focused, almost purposeful. The sensation was like finally tuning into a clear signal after weeks of maddening interference.

“I think they’re responding to your lifelines,” I said, watching the silver light pulse gently with the rhythm of my heartbeat. The pattern was beautiful—intricate whorls and lines that seemed to grow more complex even as I watched.

His expression darkened. He drew a boundary line between us in the dust of the floor, then made a cutting motion.

Forbidden. The meaning was clear even without words.

“Does it hurt when they use the shard on you?” I pressed, noting how his lifelines dimmed when I mentioned it.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and I caught the slightest movement from his tail—a quick, sharp flick against the floor. The appendage was powerful-looking, covered in the same blue skin as the rest of him, tapering to a point.

I’d noticed how he kept it unnaturally still most of the time, like he was consciously controlling its movements. “They’re trying to find a way in, aren’t they? Into the ruins.”

“Into whatever you were guarding.”

His golden eyes fixed on me again, intensity burning in them despite his weakened state. The scent of something like sun-warmed stones emanated from him, stronger as he leaned forward slightly.

He studied me carefully, then made a series of gestures—pointing to himself, then to the walls, mimicking standing guard, then pointing to the ruins. A guardian. That’s what he was trying to tell me.

The air between us seemed to change, a subtle shift like atmospheric pressure before a storm. I felt it in my markings—a stronger pull, drawing me toward him.

The silver patterns brightened slightly, sending waves of warmth up my arms that settled across my shoulders. Ravik shifted, pressing his back harder against the wall as if trying to create more distance.

The movement caused a ripple effect through his lifelines, and pain flashed across his face. The golden patterns beneath his skin flickered erratically, like a failing power system.

Something inside me couldn’t bear it. Maybe it was simple human compassion.

Maybe it was the strange connection I felt growing between us. Either way, watching him suffer while I sat helpless made something snap.

“I need to help you,” I said, the words coming before I’d fully formed the thought.

He shook his head emphatically, palm extended in warning.

“These markings—they’re good for something. I can feel it.” And I could—a certainty rising from some place I didn’t understand, a knowledge that hadn’t been there moments before.

“Stay back,” he signaled with his hand, but his voice lacked conviction as another wave of pain visibly coursed through him. His lifelines sputtered, dimming alarmingly in places.

I didn’t listen. I moved toward him, driven by impulse and the increasingly insistent pull from my markings.

Hammond would be back tomorrow. They’d take Ravik for more “tests.”

They’d break him, use whatever they learned to access the ruins, and accelerate whatever damage they were already doing to this planet.

I needed him functional. I needed information.

I needed an ally. At least, that’s what I told myself as I knelt before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin, to smell that strange scent of sun-warmed stone and something else, something alien but not unpleasant.

His expression was a mixture of warning and confusion, his body rigid. His tail had gone completely still, pressed flat against the floor.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, watching my markings reach toward him of their own accord, the silver light stretching across the diminishing space between us like searching tendrils. “But something needs to happen between us if we’re going to get out of here.”

His eyes widened slightly, the gold irises now ringed with an inner circle of deeper amber. He tilted his head questioningly, then gestured to the door and mimed walking.

Escape? He was asking if I sought escape.

“Of course I do. Don’t you?”

For a moment, indecision warred on his face—suspicion battling with something like desperate hope. Then pain won out as his lifelines sputtered again, and he doubled over with a hiss that sounded more feline than human.

“Damn it,” I muttered, frustration boiling over. My markings were practically screaming now, filling the cell with silver radiance.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, but I have to do something.”

Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was some deep instinct awakened by the increasingly frantic response of my markings.

Whatever the reason, I didn’t stop to question the impulse that drove me forward, closing the final distance between us. “What the hell,” I whispered, and pressed my lips to his. “Push me away, you’re strong enough.”

For one heartbeat, nothing happened except the strange, alien sensation of his mouth against mine—warmer than I expected, with a texture different from human skin, slightly firmer, smoother. His breath caught, hot against my face.

Then the world exploded into light.

Silver and gold erupted between us, markings and lifelines blazing like supernovas. Energy coursed through my body, electric and overwhelming, racing from my lips down my spine and out to my fingertips.

The cell disappeared, replaced by cascading visions—a towering canyon of obsidian stone, a night sky filled with twin moons, underground chambers lined with crystals that sang with power. Emotions flooded me that weren’t mine—shock, outrage, fear, and something deeper I couldn’t name.

A sense of duty so powerful it felt like physical weight. Ancient words I didn’t understand but somehow recognized.

The connection was overwhelming, intimate in a way that went beyond physical. For a moment, I wasn’t just myself anymore—I was us, boundaries blurred, perception expanded.

Ravik jerked away as if burned, slamming back against the wall with enough force to shake the cell. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving.

His lifelines blazed gold, no longer flickering but steady and bright. His tail lashed wildly against the floor.

I fell backward onto the cold stone, gasping, my entire body tingling with aftershocks. My markings were still glowing, but softly now, pulsing with what felt almost like satisfaction.

The silver patterns had changed, reorganized into formations that echoed the shape of his lifelines. “What...what was that?” I managed, when I could speak again.

My lips still burned from the contact, and my head spun with fragments of alien memories and sensations. Ravik stared at me in horrified realization.

His lips formed words I couldn’t understand, his voice carrying harmonics no human could produce. But a single concept transmitted clearly through our new connection.

Prophecy.

The implications hit me with the force of a physical blow. Whatever had just happened between us, it wasn’t just about two prisoners seeking escape.

It was something ancient, something his people had feared—perhaps with good reason.

And I had just initiated it with nothing more than desperate impulse and a kiss.