Page 22 of Bonded to the Star-Beast (Xylos Mates #1)

T he air in this part of the cave system is different.

Older. It's a subtle shift, a change in the mineral tang of the air and the quality of the silence.

Jaro leads me deeper, away from the main cavern where we took shelter from the acid rain.

His hand rests lightly on the small of my back, a gesture that is no longer just for guidance but for connection.

The warmth of his palm seeps through my suit, a comforting presence in the echoing dark.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice hushed, absorbed by the cavern's immense quiet.

“A place of my ancestors,” he says, his own voice a low rumble. “A shrine. It has not been visited by many in my generation. The elders say its power is too... unsettling.”

My scientific curiosity flares, overriding any apprehension. “Unsettling how?”

“They say it shows a past that does not fit our present.” He stops before a wall that looks solid, but a faint seam of light glows near the floor.

He places his palm against the stone, and I hear a low grinding sound as a section pivots inward, revealing a darker passage beyond.

“Kyra told me to look here. She said the old texts spoke of it.”

I follow him into the passage. The air grows cooler, and the soft blue glow of the fungi gives way to a warmer, golden luminescence.

We emerge into a domed chamber, smaller than the main cavern but breathtaking in its detail.

The walls are not rough-hewn stone but are polished smooth, covered from floor to ceiling in intricate carvings and pictograms. They pulse with the same faint, golden light as my own heart-bond mark.

“My God,” I breathe, running a hand over a depiction of a Xylosian beast form with what looks like comets trailing from its claws. “The level of detail... this isn't primitive art. This is a historical record.”

Jaro nods, his expression reverent as he gazes at the walls. “This is the heart of Kul-Vasha. The story of our people.”

I activate my datapad's recording function, my fingers flying across the screen as I begin to document. I move along the wall, my scientific mind cataloging, analyzing, searching for patterns. “The timeline seems to be chronological, moving clockwise around the chamber.”

“Yes,” Jaro confirms, his voice filled with a quiet pride. “It begins with the First Shift, when the Sky-Beast gave us the gift of two forms.”

I move past the mythological depictions, my interest caught by a section showing Xylosians who bear the same crescent mark as us. “Here, Jaro. The heart-bonds.”

He comes to stand beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. I feel the familiar warmth from his mark, a silent conversation between our bodies. The carvings are stunningly detailed. They show pairs, always male and female, their bond marks glowing. But something is different.

“Look at this panel,” I say, pointing. “The figures are depicted side-by-side, at the same height. The symbolic markings for leadership... they're present on both of them.”

Jaro leans closer, his brow furrowed in concentration. “The legends of Vaya and Rorn. Kyra spoke of them. It was said they ruled as one mind, one heart.”

One mind, one heart. I make a note. A poetic description for a symbiotic neurological and empathic link. The carvings are a historical data set, not just art.

“The current understanding in your tribe is that the male leads, that he possesses the female,” I say, turning to him. “But this... this isn't a depiction of possession, Jaro. This is partnership.”

His amber eyes, glowing softly in the shrine's light, meet mine. “The elders say these depict the claiming. The male providing for the female he possesses.”

“The data doesn't support that interpretation.” I move to the next panel, tracing the lines with my finger.

“Look at this sequence. It's not a battle between a warrior and a beast. It's a collaborative hunt.

He drives the prey from the brush, and she.

.. she sets the trap here, at the narrow pass.

It's strategy, Jaro. Not just brute force.”

He studies the carving, his expression shifting from reverence to something more analytical, more questioning. It's as if he's seeing it through my eyes.

“Kyra... she said the stories changed,” he says slowly, his voice laced with a new uncertainty. “After the Great Wars, the tribe valued only a warrior's strength. The songs of partnership were silenced. Replaced by tales of possession. It was... easier to control.”

The word hangs in the air between us. Control. The very thing I have fought against, the very thing his culture now prizes.

“It makes sense from a sociological standpoint,” I murmur, my mind racing. “A society in perpetual conflict would prioritize a rigid, hierarchical command structure. It streamlines decision-making, eliminates dissent. A partnership model would be seen as inefficient, even dangerous.”

“A weakness,” Jaro finishes, his voice grim.

I find another panel, this one showing a bonded pair standing at the mouth of this very cave, their hands raised to the sky. Above them, celestial bodies are carved with incredible precision.

“This carving...” I say, running a quick astronomical calculation on my datapad. “The way the light from the passage would hit it... that only happens when the twin suns are at their zenith during the biannual equinox. It's an astronomical marker.”

Jaro looks at me, his eyes wide with a dawning realization. “The Rite of Balance. A forgotten ceremony. Kyra found only one mention of it, in a text so old most thought it was myth. A ritual for bonded pairs. To reaffirm their two halves as one whole.”

One whole. The phrase echoes the feeling of our bond, the strange sense of completion I feel in his presence, a feeling I have spent my entire life convincing myself I didn't need.

This discovery is a tremor that shakes the foundations of his world, and of mine.

It changes everything. For Jaro, it is a key.

A key that could unlock the chains of a tradition that no longer serves his people, or him.

It gives him precedent, an argument rooted in the most sacred part of his history, to challenge the elders' definition of their bond.

For me, it is a validation. A profound, soul-deep relief. My insistence on equality, on choice, on partnership... it isn't just some alien human concept I am trying to force upon his culture. It has roots here, in the very heart of this mountain, in the ancient wisdom of his own people.

We are not an anomaly to be forced into an ill-fitting mold. We are a rediscovery.

“Jaro,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “We need to document this. All of it. The alignments, the iconography showing shared leadership, the strategic collaboration... We need irrefutable data.”

He looks from the glowing walls to my face, and a slow, fierce smile spreads across his lips. The doubt is gone, replaced by a resolute fire. “Yes. We will show them the truth.”

We spend the next several hours working in tandem, a seamless fusion of our two worlds.

I use my datapad to capture high-resolution images, running analyses on the pigments used in the carvings, calculating the precise angles of the astronomical alignments.

Jaro provides the context, the names, the legends.

He translates the ancient, almost forgotten symbols, his knowledge-keeper training and Kyra's research proving invaluable.

“What does this one mean?” I ask, pointing to a recurring symbol around the bonded pairs, a spiral with two distinct centers.

“It is the symbol for Vara-Shul ,” he explains. “It does not translate well. The closest words would be... 'shared strength' or 'convergent will'.”

“Not possession,” I state, looking at him.

“No,” he confirms, his gaze unwavering. “Not possession.”

As we work, a new dynamic settles between us.

The tension is gone, replaced by the easy rhythm of two colleagues engrossed in a shared project.

A project that just happens to be the re-writing of our own futures.

The heart-bond marks on our chests pulse with a steady, comforting warmth, a silent third partner in our work.

When we have documented every panel, every symbol, every alignment, we stand in the center of the shrine, surrounded by the glowing history of his people.

“They suppressed this,” I say quietly, the weight of it settling on me. “They chose to forget.”

“Forgetting is easier than changing,” Jaro says, his voice a low rumble. “But the mountain remembers. And now, so do we.”

He takes my hand, his large, warm fingers lacing through mine. It feels... right. Natural. Not a gesture of ownership, but of connection.

“This knowledge is a powerful weapon, Kendra,” he says, his amber eyes serious. “Vex and the traditionalists will not accept it easily. They will say we are twisting the past to suit our own desires.”

“That's why we don't present it as a legend,” I counter, my own resolve hardening.

“We present it as data. As evidence. We show them the astronomical calculations. We show them the iconographic analysis of shared power symbols. We build a case so logical, so supported by physical evidence, that to deny it would be to deny reason itself.”

He looks at me, and I see a flicker of that same respect he showed me on the mountain, when our combined skills saved us. “Your mind is a strange and beautiful thing, Kendra Miles.”

“And your history is more complex and profound than your people give it credit for,” I reply. “Perhaps it's time they were reminded of that.”

We leave the shrine, sealing the ancient passage behind us, the golden light once again hidden from the world.

But we carry its light with us. We have a new purpose, a shared mission that transcends our individual survival.

We are no longer just fighting for our bond; we are fighting for the truth of what that bond represents.

As we walk back into the main cavern, Jaro stops and turns to me, his face serious.

“When we return to Vara-Ka, the challenge from Vex will come. It is inevitable now. He will not allow this... this evidence... to go unanswered.”

“I know,” I say, my own heart steady. “But this time, you won't be fighting just for your own claim to leadership.”

“No,” he agrees, his hand tightening on mine. “This time, we will be fighting for ours.”