Page 23

T he descent from Kul-Vasha feels different.

The air is still thin and crisp, but the oppressive weight of uncertainty has lifted, replaced by a fragile, shared purpose.

With every step Jaro takes beside me, the bond between us feels less like a biological anomaly and more like a partnership.

The data we collected from the shrine, the evidence of a history deliberately forgotten, is a weapon. A truth. And it's ours.

“Are you sure you're well enough for this pace?” Jaro's voice is a low rumble beside me, pulling me from my thoughts. “We can rest.”

“I'm fine.” I glance at him, a small smile touching my lips. “My metabolic rate has definitely adapted. My energy levels are stable, even at this altitude.” And being near you seems to act as a physiological stabilizer. Another hypothesis to test.

He grunts, a sound I'm coming to understand as a mixture of concern and grudging respect for my resilience. “Your human body is... more durable than it appears.”

“We're a surprisingly tough species. We've had to be.” I adjust the pack on my shoulders, the salvaged scientific equipment feeling less like a burden and more like an arsenal. “What about you? You've been on edge since we left the lower caves.”

His amber eyes, no longer glowing with the intensity of our time in the shrine, scan the surrounding terrain. The pass we're navigating is narrow, with steep rock faces rising on either side. It's a natural chokepoint. A perfect ambush point.

“My beast is restless,” he admits, his hand dropping to the hilt of the blade at his side. “It senses... dissonance. Something is not right in the wind.”

My own senses are on high alert. It's not just his warrior instincts.

I feel it too, a low-frequency hum of wrongness transmitted through the bond.

A faint, prickling sensation at the base of my skull, like the static electricity before a lightning strike.

Is this what empathic awareness feels like?

A shared flight-or-fight response? Fascinating. And terrifying.

“I feel it, too,” I say quietly. “A... pressure differential. A change in the ambient energy.”

He stops, turning to look at me fully, his expression serious. “You feel it?”

“Our bond. It's more than just shared emotions, isn't it? It's a data stream. I'm picking up your threat assessment.”

He seems to consider this, his gaze sweeping the rocks above us again. “The connection grows stronger. Kyra said it would. She said the ancient texts described it as two minds becoming one.”

A shared consciousness? The neurological implications are staggering. It would require a form of quantum entanglement I can't even begin to model. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Right now, I'd settle for a shared early warning system.”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face before it vanishes, replaced by that predator's focus I've come to know. “Stay close. This pass is the most direct route, but also the most dangerous.”

“Understood.”

We continue in silence, the only sounds the crunch of our boots on the gravelly path and the whisper of the wind through the jagged rocks. The sense of foreboding intensifies with every step. It's a palpable thing, a weight in the air. My heart-bond mark gives a sharp, painful throb.

“Jaro...” I start to say, but it's too late.

A glint of reflected sunlight from the ridge above. A faint whistling sound.

Time seems to warp. In the space of a single, drawn-out heartbeat, a cascade of information floods my senses.

A flash. Not a memory, not a dream, but a stark, precognitive image of a plasma bolt hitting me square in the chest. A searing, white-hot agony that isn't mine, but his .

I feel his terror for me, a wave of pure, unadulterated panic that crashes through our bond.

I react without thinking, throwing myself to the side a split second before the bolt sizzles through the air where my head had been, impacting the rock face behind me with a shower of molten stone.

The world explodes into chaos.

More bolts rain down from above. Warriors-Xylosian warriors, their tribal markings stark and familiar-are descending from the rocks, moving with brutal efficiency.

Vex's faction. My mind registers their insignia with cold, clinical horror.

This isn't a random attack by a rival tribe. This is an assassination.

“Kendra!” Jaro's roar is a physical force.

I scramble behind a large boulder, my shoulder screaming from the impact of my fall. I see Jaro drawing his weapon, his body a blur of motion as he deflects a bolt aimed at his head. They're trying to incapacitate him. To get to me.

They're going to kill me.

Another warrior appears on the path in front of me, his blade raised. His eyes are cold, merciless. I fumble for my emergency blaster, the one I salvaged from the pod, but it's too slow. He lunges.

The world dissolves into an agonizing shriek of shared pain.

It's not my scream, but Jaro's. A wave of incandescent rage, so powerful it feels like it will tear me apart, floods through the bond.

I feel the searing heat of his transformation, the cracking of his bones, the explosive expansion of his muscles.

He is no longer Jaro.

He is the Star-Beast.

The creature that erupts into the narrow pass is a nightmare of primal fury.

Twelve feet of midnight-blue muscle and rage, horns sweeping back from a skull that is all predator, claws the length of daggers tearing through the air.

A roar shatters the pass, a sound that isn't just heard but felt, a seismic shockwave of pure, untempered power.

The warrior who was about to kill me freezes, his face a mask of primal terror. He has a moment, just one, to recognize the magnitude of his mistake.

Then the beast is on him.

I watch in horrified fascination as Jaro-the beast-fights.

It's not the controlled, strategic combat of a warrior.

This is a force of nature. A hurricane of claws and fangs.

He moves with impossible speed, a blur of motion that the attackers can't track.

He systematically, brutally, dispatches them.

A swipe of his massive claws disembowels one.

His powerful jaws snap another's spine. He doesn't just kill them; he annihilates them, his rage an absolute, cleansing fire.

This is not a fight for territory or for dominance. This is the defense of a mate, and there are no rules.

He's going to kill them all, I realize, my blood running cold despite the heat of the battle. In front of witnesses.

I see it now. Two more warriors, Jaro's own guard who must have been trailing us, have joined the fray, their faces grim as they engage the remaining assassins. They see Jaro's rampage. They see him tearing apart fellow tribesmen, even if they are from a rival faction.

This is outside the Challenge Circle. Outside ritual combat. This is murder by tribal law. Vex will use this. Even if we have proof he sent them, Jaro's response... it's too much. They'll strip him of his rank. They'll exile him. Or worse.

I have to stop him.

I push myself up, my injured shoulder screaming in protest. The beast has one of Vex's key lieutenants pinned to the ground, its massive claws pressing down on the warrior's chest. The warrior's eyes are wide with terror, his life about to be extinguished.

“Jaro!” I scream, but my voice is lost in the din of battle. The beast doesn't hear me. It can't hear me. It's lost in the red haze of its protective fury.

But he can feel me.

I close my eyes, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, the chaos around me. I focus on the bond, on that thin, shimmering thread of light that connects my heart to his. I push past the overwhelming wave of his rage, searching for the man inside the monster.

Jaro, listen to me. It's me. Kendra. I'm safe. You saved me. But you have to stop. You have to stop now.

I project every ounce of calm I can muster through the bond. I send him images of the Light Caves, of the quiet peace we found there. I send him the feeling of my hand in his, the shared warmth of our marks.

Come back to me, Jaro. Please. I need you. Not the beast. I need you.

The beast's head, poised to deliver the fatal blow, hesitates. It turns, and its glowing golden eyes, devoid of all reason, fix on me. For a terrifying second, I think it hasn't worked. I think his rage is so absolute that it has consumed him completely.

But then, a flicker. A hint of amber in the molten gold. The humanoid consciousness, fighting its way back from the primal depths.

“Jaro,” I say again, my voice softer now, but clear and steady. “It's over. We're safe.”

The warrior pinned beneath him scrambles away as the pressure on his chest eases.

The beast looks from the fleeing warrior to me, a low, confused growl rumbling in its massive chest. Its claws retract slightly.

The red haze in its eyes recedes, leaving behind the conflicted, tortured gaze of the man I know.

He did it. He heard me.

We secure the surviving attackers, their faces a mixture of fear and disbelief. They are undeniable proof of Vex's plot. Jaro's own warriors, their expressions grim, bind the assassins with practiced efficiency. The political implications of this moment hang heavy in the air.

Jaro stands in the center of the carnage, his massive form trembling.

He's trying to shift back, but the transformation is ragged, unstable.

The intensity of the battle, the violent activation of the bond, has pushed his system to its limits.

A spasm racks his body, and he stumbles, one knee hitting the ground with a thud.

He can't control it. The physiological stress is too great. My scientific mind takes over, pushing past the pain and fear. I need to help him. Stabilize him.

I move to his side, ignoring the warning looks from his guards.

“Jaro,” I say, my voice calm, clinical. “Focus on my voice. Regulate your breathing. Your metabolic rate is dangerously high. You need to bring it down slowly.”

He looks at me, his eyes a swirling mix of beast and man. He is fighting a war within himself.

I remember my conversations with Neema, with Kyra. The stories of shifters losing control, their bodies burning out from the sheer energy of an uncontrolled shift.

“The sonic frequencies in the Light Caves,” I say, an idea sparking. “They had a calming effect. The frequency... I can replicate it. Verbally.” I begin to hum, a low, steady tone, trying to match the frequency I recorded on my datapad.

He closes his eyes, his breathing still ragged but less frantic. He's listening. The muscles in his massive shoulders begin to relax.

I keep humming, my own voice a strange anchor in the bloody aftermath of the ambush.

I place my hand on his forearm, feeling the tremors that still run through him.

The bond between us is a current of shared exhaustion and pain, but also of a fierce, protective connection that has just been forged in violence.

Slowly, painfully, the beast recedes. The transformation reverses itself, muscles contracting, fur receding, bones reshaping. He collapses to his knees, now in his humanoid form, naked, bleeding, and trembling with the aftershocks of his own power.

I kneel in front of him, my own injuries forgotten. I take his face in my hands, my thumbs stroking his high cheekbones.

“You came back,” I whisper, my voice thick with a relief so profound it feels like a physical thing.

His eyes, now fully amber again, meet mine. They are filled with a raw vulnerability that steals my breath.

“Always,” he rasps, his voice a broken thing. “For you... always.”

We have the evidence we need to expose Vex. But the price was high. Jaro's rampage, though defensive, has violated the tribe's most sacred laws of combat. We have won this battle, but I fear we may have just handed Vex the weapons he needs to win the war.