Page 9

T he journey ends not with a landmark I can identify, but with a shift in the male beside me.

One moment, Jaro is the primal hunter who has been my guide and protector, his movements fluid and attuned to the wilderness.

The next, he is a prince. His shoulders straighten, his stride becomes more measured, and a regal formality settles over him like a cloak.

I see it in the set of his jaw, the way his amber eyes scan the horizon with an air of ownership, not just vigilance.

"We are here," he says, his voice a low rumble that carries a new weight of authority.

I follow his gaze and my breath catches. Ahead, where the foothills give way to a wide, open plain, lies his home. Vara-Ka.

It's not the primitive collection of huts I might have expected.

It's a marvel of bio-engineering. A massive, circular settlement is enclosed by a formidable defensive wall, but the wall is.

.. alive. It's a dense, interwoven lattice of thorny, woody plants, thick as a fortress rampart, with guarded openings that look like natural archways.

Within the wall, the dwellings are a fusion of organic and sophisticated design.

They are built from a dark, polished material that resembles stone but seems to have the grain of wood, rising in interconnected, multi-leveled structures that curve and flow into one another.

It feels less like a town and more like a single, massive organism.

Incredible. The load-bearing capacity of that woven wall must be immense. Is it a single plant species, genetically modified for structural integrity? Or a symbiotic relationship between multiple types of flora? I need a sample.

"This is your home?" I ask, my voice a little breathless. My scientific curiosity is warring with a fresh wave of apprehension. I am an alien here. An anomaly.

Jaro doesn't answer with words. He simply places a large hand on the small of my back, a gesture that is both a steadying comfort and an undeniable claim, and urges me forward.

As we draw closer, a horn sounds from atop the living wall.

The call is deep and resonant, echoing across the plain. It's a signal. An announcement.

We have arrived.

The moment we step through the main gate, the settlement stirs to life.

Xylosians emerge from their dwellings, their movements a mix of caution and bold curiosity.

Children, small and navy-skinned with wide, inquisitive eyes, are the first to point.

Females, their forms draped in simple but elegant fabrics, watch from shadowed doorways, their expressions guarded, unreadable.

Then the warriors appear. They are all like Jaro, towering and powerfully built, their bodies adorned with intricate markings that I now realize are not mere decoration.

They're signifiers. Rank, lineage, achievements.

I see a clear hierarchy in the way they move, the way they defer to one another.

The younger ones with fewer markings give way to older, more heavily scarred warriors.

My wrist-comp flashes with fragmented translations of the whispers that ripple through the air. [Alien... female... look at the marks... Jaro's folly... bond-curse...]

Bond-curse. That doesn't sound promising. My hand instinctively goes to the crescent mark on my chest, hidden beneath my salvaged jumpsuit. It feels warm against my skin, a constant, low-grade fever.

Jaro ignores the whispers. He is the warrior-prince in his own territory now, and he moves with an air of absolute authority.

Warriors we pass dip their heads slightly, their hands moving in a gesture I don't recognize.

He acknowledges them with a curt nod, his gaze fixed forward.

His hand never leaves my back, a silent declaration to all who watch: She is with me.

He leads me through the settlement's winding paths.

The air smells of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and a thousand unfamiliar herbs, all underpinned by the same musky, ozone-like scent that clings to Jaro himself.

We pass a large, packed-earth circle where two warriors are engaged in ritual combat, their movements a blur of controlled violence.

We pass communal cooking pits where females tend to bubbling cauldrons.

We pass workshops where the sounds of hammering and some kind of high-tech hum fill the air.

This is a thriving, complex society. And I am the wrench in its gears.

Then I see him.

He stands apart from the others, his arms crossed over a chest broader and more heavily scarred than even Jaro's.

He is watching us, his amber eyes narrowed with an intensity that feels different from the others' suspicion.

It feels like a challenge. His gaze lingers on me for a moment, a cold, calculating appraisal that makes my skin crawl.

Then his eyes shift to Jaro, and the look is one of pure, undiluted rivalry.

Hypothesis: A political challenger. His posture indicates a high status, but he shows no deference to Jaro. This is a power struggle.

Jaro's hand tightens on my back as we pass the warrior. He doesn't look at his rival, but I can feel the tension coiling in his muscles. His jaw is a hard, unforgiving line.

The whispers follow us, my translator catching more now. [Vex looks angry... Jaro defies tradition... the alien will be his undoing...]

So his name is Vex. And he's already using my presence as a political weapon. Excellent.

Jaro finally stops before one of the largest dwellings, situated near the eastern wall where it catches the first light of the golden sun.

The structure is magnificent, its dark wood walls covered in intricate carvings depicting epic hunts and celestial patterns.

This is clearly the home of a high-ranking individual. His home.

Before we can enter, a group of three elders emerges from a nearby building. They are ancient, their navy skin weathered and deeply lined, their bodies adorned with markings that are more complex and ornate than any I've seen. Their expressions are grim.

They approach Jaro, their movements slow and deliberate. They ignore me completely, their focus entirely on him. One of them, whose braids are threaded with what look like polished animal teeth, points a trembling finger at Jaro's chest, then at mine.

A torrent of urgent, low-toned Xylosian follows. My translator struggles, catching only keywords. [Forbidden... ancient law... weakness... challenge...]

Jaro stands his ground, his face a mask of stone. He responds in the same low tones, his voice a deep, resonant rumble of authority. He gestures to our matching marks, his expression unyielding. He is arguing, defending his actions, defending me .

Another elder, this one with skin so dark it is almost black, steps forward. He reaches out and, without warning, yanks down the collar of my jumpsuit, exposing the glowing crescent mark on my chest.

I gasp and stumble back, but Jaro's arm shoots out, steadying me. He snarls at the elder, a sound so primal and full of menace that the old Xylosian actually takes a step back.

The three elders confer, their voices a furious, hushed whisper. The political implications of my presence, of this impossible bond, are hitting me with the force of a physical blow. I am not just a castaway here. I am a catalyst. A crisis.

Finally, the first elder speaks again, his voice carrying a note of finality. He points towards a large, semi-subterranean structure in the center of the settlement. The council chamber.

Jaro's jaw tightens. He gives a stiff, formal nod.

He turns to me, and for a moment, the warrior-prince vanishes, and I see only the male from the forest, his amber eyes filled with a conflict he cannot voice.

“I must go,” he says, his voice low. My translator delivers the stark message. “The council summons me.”

What about me? The question hangs in the air between us, unspoken.

He seems to understand. He turns and barks an order to two warriors who have been standing guard nearby. They move to flank me, their expressions impassive, their stances formidable. My guards. Or my jailers.

“You will wait here,” Jaro tells me. “You will be safe.”

Safe from what? The tribe? Or from him? I suddenly feel a cold dread creep up my spine. I was a captive in the forest, but I was a captive with agency. Here, I am a political pawn, a piece on a board I don't understand, in a game whose rules are a mystery.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against my cheek in a gesture so full of longing and regret that it makes my heart ache. It is a promise and a farewell all in one.

Then he turns and follows the elders towards the council chamber, his back straight, his stride once again that of a prince marching towards his destiny. Or his doom.

The two warriors move to stand on either side of the entrance to his dwelling, their massive forms blocking the doorway. They do not look at me, but I can feel their presence, a constant, silent reminder of my new status.

I am under guard. I am a possession to be protected, a problem to be solved. I entered this settlement as a survivor, a scientist. I am now... a liability.

I turn and look at Jaro's dwelling. It is a home, but it feels like a cage. A gilded, beautifully carved cage.

My hand goes to the datapad in my pocket, my fingers itching to record, to analyze, to impose some kind of scientific order on this spiraling chaos.

Log entry, cycle six. Have arrived at Xylosian settlement designated 'Vara-Ka.

' Initial assessment reveals a complex, hierarchical society with advanced bio-architectural capabilities.

Subject Jaro's social status is confirmed as high-ranking, likely heir-apparent.

The heart-bond has been publicly observed, triggering significant political and social instability.

A rival male, designated 'Vex,' has been identified.

I have been placed under protective custody pending a tribal council hearing regarding Jaro's.

.. and by extension, my own... fate. My strategic options are limited.

Probability of maintaining autonomy: decreasing rapidly. Probability of survival: unknown.

I step into the shadows of Jaro's home, the heavy wooden door closing behind me with a sound of deep, resonant finality. I am alone, and for the first time since the crash, I feel truly, utterly trapped.