Page 7 of Alien Warrior’s Claim (Nyxari Bondmates #1)

MIRELLE

T he journey to the Nyxari settlement took nearly half a day, following hidden paths through dense forests and rocky valleys I would have found impossible to navigate alone. As we traveled, Lazrin identified the flora around us—indicating which plants healed, which killed, which could nourish human physiology. I studied each specimen intently, conscious that this knowledge might save lives when winter descended on my former companions.

With each mile, the reality of my decision became clearer. I had acted decisively in that confrontation, but now, hours into our trek, the magnitude of my choice resonated through me. I had walked away from my own species to join beings from another world, guided by mysterious markings and a connection I couldn't rationally justify.

Still, no regrets surfaced. The prospect of remaining—watching Hammond's inflexibility doom us all—had left no real alternative.

"How much farther?" Claire asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Unlike Rivera or Elana, whose markings had already spread visibly along their arms, Claire's patterns remained faint—just tiny silver traces at her wrists. She had joined us reluctantly, more from fear of Hammond than attraction to the Nyxari way.

"Not far now," Lazrin replied, his translation stone glowing as he spoke. "We'll reach the settlement before sunset."

Claire nodded, falling back to walk with the other women. Her hesitation was understandable—she had friends back in Hammond's camp, connections that pulled her in opposing directions.

The translation stone rested warm against my collarbone, its presence grounding me. This small device bridged more than language; it offered insight into an entirely different consciousness, making comprehensible what would otherwise remain impenetrable.

The path beneath our feet transitioned from packed earth to polished stone inlaid with luminescent patterns that echoed the markings on the Nyxari's skin. Ahead, dwellings rose like sculpted formations, their curved surfaces flowing into the landscape without sharp edges or rigid lines.

I adjusted the strap of my pack, feeling the slight weight of my salvaged possessions. My expedition jacket—stained, torn, but familiar—offered some comfort amid the strangeness surrounding me.

Behind me, the other marked women whispered among themselves, their translation pendants glowing softly as they spoke. Four had chosen to follow my lead—Roberts, Elana, Rivera, and Claire—each driven by a mix of curiosity and pragmatism. We were the first humans to enter a Nyxari settlement. History in the making, not that anyone from Earth would ever know.

Lazrin walked slightly ahead, his tall form casting a long shadow in the light of Arenix's setting suns. Though he maintained a respectful distance, I felt his awareness of me like a physical touch—his golden eyes occasionally finding mine, his body subtly angling toward me whenever I paused.

"Our shelters," he said, gesturing to the structures around us. The translation stone on his throat hummed with subtle energy as it translated his words. "They are grown, not built."

"Grown?" I repeated, studying the closest dwelling with new interest.

"From the vashkai—the living stone. An organism unique to Arenix." His own translation pendant glowed softly as he spoke the Nyxari word that had no direct human equivalent. "Our ancestors learned to guide its growth patterns through resonant energy."

"May I?" I asked, pointing to the iridescent surface.

Lazrin nodded, watching intently as my fingers made contact with the structure. The material felt warm and slightly yielding, like hardened clay still retaining a memory of softness. Beneath my fingertips, the surface pulsed with faint illumination, responding to my touch.

"It's really alive," I whispered, drawing back.

"Dormant now," Lazrin corrected, his translation stone ensuring I understood the nuance. "But yes, it lives. Before the Great Division, entire cities were shaped from living stone. Now, we maintain what remains but have lost the knowledge to grow new formations."

Around us, more Nyxari emerged from their dwellings, watching our procession with undisguised curiosity. Like Lazrin and his warriors, they were tall and powerfully built, though their skin colors varied widely. All were adorned with golden markings, but none shone like Lazrin’s.

A young Nyxari child darted from behind an adult, staring at us with wide golden eyes. The child appeared small but sturdy, reaching perhaps to my chest, with a tail that seemed almost too long for its body. At the sight of us, the child's network of markings flared briefly before the adult—presumably a parent—pulled it back.

"I've noticed very few children in the settlement," I said, keeping my voice low as the young one was led away.

"Too few," Lazrin replied, his tone darkening. His translation pendant pulsed with his emotion. "Each birth is celebrated by the entire settlement."

We reached a circular clearing at the center of the settlement. Here stood the largest structure yet—a domed building with multiple curved extensions radiating outward like petals. The entire surface glowed with intricate patterns that shifted in mesmerizing waves.

"The Council Hall," Lazrin explained, his translation stone brightening as he spoke. "The Elders await to formally welcome you and answer your questions."

Inside, the space opened into a vast chamber. The ceiling arched high overhead, embedded with points of light that mimicked the night sky. The floor sloped gently downward to a central platform where Elder Rylis and several other older Nyxari stood waiting. Their robes, more elaborately decorated than the warriors', draped over their tall frames in flowing lines.

The marked women and I descended toward the Elders. This moment felt significant—no longer just about immediate survival but potentially the future of both our peoples.

Rylis stepped forward, raising his hands in a formal gesture. The large translation stone at his neck glowed brightly, creating a field allowing all present to understand one another. "Welcome, sky-fallen ones, to the Eastern Settlement. For generations, we have lived in isolation, believing ourselves the only sentient beings on Arenix. Your arrival changes everything."

I nodded, matching his formality, my own translation pendant glowing in response. "We are grateful for your hospitality and protection, Elder Rylis. Though only five of us chose to come, we hope this first step leads to greater cooperation between our peoples. The crash of our vessel was unplanned, but perhaps not entirely unfortunate if it brings our species together."

A murmur of approval rippled through the gathered Nyxari. Rylis smiled, his ancient eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You speak with wisdom beyond your years, of Earth. Come, break bread with us. Food first, then questions."

We were led to low tables arranged in a semicircle. The meal that followed was simple but nourishing—roasted tubers with a savory, nutlike flavor; bread made from a purple grain that dissolved on the tongue; and a clear broth that warmed from the inside out. Though strange, everything tasted marvelous after days of emergency rations.

Throughout the meal, I observed our hosts. Despite their alien physiology, their interactions followed recognizable patterns—conversation, laughter, occasional touches that conveyed affection or emphasis. Children sat with adults, watching us with undisguised curiosity while receiving gentle reminders about proper behavior.

Lazrin sat opposite me, his golden eyes rarely straying from my face. Each time our gazes met, the patterns under my skin warmed in response, and his lifelines pulsed visibly. I tried to ignore the sensation, to focus on the diplomatic aspect of this meeting, but the connection between us remained a persistent undercurrent.

It was too much. My entire body, if not forcibly focused on another area, began to quiver with desire if Lazrin was next to me. I couldn’t get the idea of straddling him, and having his arms all over me, tracing down the markings on my skin that were becoming more and more prominent.

After the meal, Rylis invited questions, the translation field maintained by his ceremonial stone allowing free communication. The other women hesitantly began asking about the basics of life on Arenix—the climate, food sources, dangers to avoid. I let them speak first, observing the Elders' responses while formulating my own inquiries.

When there was a lull, I addressed Rylis directly. "You mentioned a Great Division that decimated your civilization. What happened?"

The chamber quieted, all eyes turning to the Elder. Rylis's expression grew solemn, his translation stone brightening as he prepared to explain.

"Long ago, the Nyxari ruled the stars. Our cities covered Arenix, and our vessels traveled between worlds. We were unified, prosperous, masters of technology so advanced it would appear as magic to those who see us now." He spread his hands, indicating the settlement around us. "This is but a pale shadow of what once was."

"What changed?" I asked, my translation stone warming with the question.

"Power," Rylis replied simply. "Or rather, a dispute over how it should be wielded. One faction sought to expand our influence further, to remake other worlds in our image. They believed our superior technology and biology gave us the right to dominate. The other faction advocated for preservation, cooperation, balance with nature rather than control over it."

His gaze swept across the gathered Nyxari. "Civil war erupted. Weapons of unimaginable destructive power were unleashed. Much of Arenix was rendered uninhabitable for generations. Our great cities fell. Our knowledge was lost or scattered. And most devastating of all, the weapons affected our reproductive capabilities. Since the Great Division, female births have become increasingly rare."

"That's why the lifebond is so significant to your people," I said, pieces falling into place. "It ensures viable offspring."

Lazrin leaned forward slightly, his translation stone brightening. "Not just viable—strong. Before the Great Division, lifebonds were common, a spiritual connection between partners whose energies complemented one another perfectly. Now, they are exceedingly rare. When a bond forms, it is considered a blessing from the ancestors."

His golden eyes held mine, intensity visible in their depths. "What has occurred between us has never happened before. A Nyxari lifebond with a being from another world... it has no precedent."

I felt the weight of every stare in the chamber. The intricate designs beneath my skin tingled, a constant reminder of this connection I neither asked for nor understood.

"I volunteered for the Honor Pact to secure my people's survival," I said carefully, my translation stone conveying my measured tone. "Not because I believe in mystical connections."

"The bond exists regardless of belief," Lazrin replied, his voice low but firm, his translation pendant ensuring I understood. "You feel it even now—the pull between us, the way your markings respond to my presence."

I couldn't deny it, not with the evidence glowing beneath my skin. But recognition and acceptance remained separate matters.

An elderly female Nyxari—the first I'd seen—rose from her seat. Her lifelines were intricate and numerous, covering much of her visible skin in flowing golden patterns.

"May I?" she asked, gesturing toward my arm, her words carrying through the translation field Rylis maintained.

After a moment's hesitation, I extended my arm toward her, pushing up my jacket sleeve. With gentle fingers, she examined the silver patterns beneath my skin. The network of filaments glowed with subtle light in the dim chamber.

The female made a soft sound of wonder. "Extraordinary. These are not mere surface patterns like our lifelines. They run deeper, as if integrated into your very essence."

"They appeared during the crash," I explained, adjusting my jacket to keep the patterns partially covered. "When a wave of energy passed through our ship. At first, I thought it was radiation poisoning or contamination."

"Not contamination," she said, studying the patterns with evident fascination. "Transformation. The resonant energy of Arenix has changed you at a fundamental level. These patterns act as channels for that energy, much like our lifelines do for us."

"Changed me how?" I asked, unease creeping through me.

"That remains to be discovered," she replied with a mysterious smile. "Each bond manifests unique abilities. Together, you and Lazrin will unlock potentials neither of you could access alone."

I drew my arm back, pulling my jacket sleeve down. "I didn't ask to be changed."

"Few ever do," the female said gently. "Yet change comes nonetheless."

The discussion continued, shifting to practical matters—where we would stay, how we would learn the ways of Arenix, the expectations of daily life. Each of us was assigned a Nyxari guide based on the resonance between our markings and their lifelines. Roberts was paired with a warrior named Tamir, whose lifelines pulsed with similar intensity to her markings. Elana found herself drawn to a Nyxari botanist whose patterns matched the delicate swirls along her wrists.

After the formal meeting concluded, Lazrin approached me, his translation pendant glowing softly. "I would show you where you will rest, if you wish."

I nodded, suddenly aware of the exhaustion seeping into my bones. The emotional and physical toll of the day weighed heavily on me.

He led me to a smaller dwelling at the settlement's edge. Inside, the space was simple but comfortable—a sleeping platform covered with soft furs, a small table and chair, and an alcove that appeared to be a washing area with clear water flowing from a curved spout.

"My dwelling is adjacent," Lazrin said, gesturing to a nearby structure, the translation stone at his throat ensuring I understood. "Should you need anything during the night."

The knowledge that he would be so close sent an unexpected thrill through me. I pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the reality of my situation. I'd chosen this path—to learn from the Nyxari, to build a bridge between our peoples. But the personal implications of the lifebond remained uncertain territory.

Before Lazrin departed, a soft chime sounded at the entrance. A Nyxari with deep emerald skin appeared, carrying a small wooden container.

"I am Kavan, healer here," he introduced himself, his translation stone glowing. His golden lifelines formed patterns unlike the warriors'—more flowing and circular across his green skin. "Elder Rylis suggested you might need these remedies."

"Thank you," I said, accepting the container.

Kavan studied my arm where the silver markings were visible. "Your skin is more delicate than ours." He indicated a blue salve. His expression revealed curiosity rather than understanding—clearly, human physiology was as new to him as Nyxari medicine was to me.

"I will return tomorrow to check on your adjustment," he said with a respectful nod before withdrawing.

After he departed, I turned back to Lazrin. "These patterns beneath my skin, this... pull I feel toward you. What does it mean, exactly?"

Lazrin turned back, his features solemn in the dim light. "It means that on the fundamental level, our energies recognize each other as complementary," he said quietly, his translation pendant ensuring I understood. "Different, yet aligned—each providing what the other lacks. The lifebond emerges not from dominance, but from equilibrium."

His hand rose slowly, stopping just short of touching my face. "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, I nodded.

His fingertips brushed my cheek with exquisite gentleness. Instantly, my markings flared beneath my skin, a rush of warmth spreading outward from the point of contact. His lifelines responded in kind, glowing brighter as they pulsed in synchronization with my own patterns.

The sensation defied description—beyond physical pleasure, though that element existed. It was recognition at a fundamental level, as if some essential part of myself had found its counterpart.

I drew back, breathless and shaken. "That's... intense."

"Yes," Lazrin agreed, his own breathing slightly uneven, his translation stone pulsing with each word. "And rare beyond measure. What exists between us is precious, , whether you yet believe it or not."

He stepped back, allowing me space. "Rest now. Tomorrow we begin teaching you about Arenix."

After he left, I settled onto the sleeping platform, my thoughts circling through everything I'd learned. The translation stone near my throat had grown cool without conversation to translate, but I kept it on, finding comfort in this tangible connection to my new reality.

"I still don't fully understand what these markings mean or what I'm becoming," I whispered to the empty room, "but I'm willing to learn."