Page 18

Islae

The dank underground cell reeked of mold and despair. Islae’s wrists throbbed where the metal cuffs bit into her flesh. She shifted her weight, trying to find a position that didn’t strain her shoulders quite so much.

“…new weapons shipment coming in tomorrow,” a guard’s voice drifted down the stone corridor.

“What about the healer?” another guard asked.

“Commander wants to break her. Says she’s too valuable to damage permanently, though.”

She closed her eyes, remembering how Nirrn would analyze a situation—methodical, leaving no detail unchecked. She needed that same clinical detachment now.

The hum in her blood pulsed stronger, like a phantom touch of Nirrn’s fingers against her skin. Her breath caught. The connection felt incredibly real, as if some part of Nirrn reached across the city to find her. At that moment, she realized it could only mean one thing. Nirrn was indeed alive.

Heavy boots scraped against stone as the guards changed shifts. Three steps to the door, pause for key check, two more steps to the end of the hall. They were clockwork in their routine—perhaps too routine.

“Hey! The prisoner needs water,” a young one called out.

“Let her thirst. Commander’s orders.”

Islae’s throat burned at the mention of water.

They had given her nothing since throwing her in here.

But the denial of her basic needs told her something—they feared her influence.

A healer could gain trust and could manipulate through kindness.

Maybe she could use that to her advantage if she got the chance.

The night dragged on. Every hour, new snippets of conversation filtered through her cell door—duty rosters, complaints about pay, and whispered fears about the growing human resistance. She filed each detail away, searching for leverage.

But the guards who had beaten her earlier showed no weakness and no sympathy. Their hatred of humans ran too deep. She flexed her fingers again, wincing as the cuffs cut too deeply.

“What would you see that I’m missing?” she murmured, picturing Nirrn’s calculating golden eyes. The phantom warmth in her blood surged, as if in answer. She held on to that feeling, letting it chase away the chill of the cell.

Dawn soon approached, marked by the changing of the guard once more. The commander would return soon enough, demanding she choose between a slave’s collar or a quick death. Neither was acceptable. There had to be a way out of here.

Her mind raced as she pieced together everything she had overheard in the past day. Her wrists ached from the chains, but the physical discomfort barely registered against the sudden sharp clarity of her thoughts.

“Weapons shipment,” she whispered to herself. “Loading dock three, east wing.”

The guards’ casual conversations had revealed more than they realized. She wiggled her fingers, keeping them nimble despite the cold and tingling sensation. If she could just get to those weapons, or any weapon…

Her attention snapped to footsteps approaching—lighter than the night guards, with a slight hesitation between steps. The young one, the one who had mentioned water before.

The strange warmth in her blood pulsated, making her catch her breath again. It felt like Nirrn was right here with her, his powerful presence giving her strength. She could almost see him—his orange-golden scales gleaming in the darkness, his golden eyes fierce with protective fury.

“Focus,” she muttered.

The young guard appeared, his uniform still crisp with newness. His eyes darted to her chains and then away.

“Please,” Islae said, letting her voice crack. “Just a little water?”

He shifted his weight. “I’m not supposed to…”

“I know. But I’m so thirsty.” She let her head drop, her shoulders slumping. “I never meant to cause trouble. I just want to help people.”

The guard’s fingers twitched toward his water flask. “The commander said—”

“I’m a healer,” she interrupted softly. “Like you have in your family. Your sister, right? I heard you mention her to the other guard.”

His eyes widened slightly. Got him.

“She works in the medical wing. Right?” Islae continued. “She’s trying to make a difference, just like I was.”

The guard took a half step forward. “How did you know that about my sister?”

“The same way I know you’re different from the others. You see people for who they are, not just humans or Jorvlens.” She met his gaze. “Please. Just a few sips?”

He glanced down the corridor and then back at her. His hand moved to his keys.

The warmth in her blood surged stronger, as if Nirrn himself urged her forward. Just a little more…

The cell door soon creaked open, and Islae’s heart raced as the young guard stepped inside with his water flask. Her wrists throbbed beneath the metal cuffs, the pain giving weight to her next words.

“The cuffs… they’re cutting off my circulation.” She rotated her hands, letting him see the raw skin. “Could you maybe loosen them? Just for a minute while I drink?”

He shifted from foot to foot. “I shouldn’t…”

“Please? I promise I won’t try anything.” She met his eyes, projecting innocence. “I just want to get some feeling back in my hands.”

The guard glanced down the corridor before pulling out his keys again. The cuffs fell away with a soft click, and Islae bit back a gasp of relief as she massaged her tender wrists. The strange tingling in her blood—that connection to Nirrn—grew stronger again, as if warning her to be careful.

“Thank you,” she breathed, accepting his water flask. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat, but she forced herself to drink slowly and deliberately. Let him watch. Let him think he was being kind.

“You’re different from other humans,” the guard said, his eyes trailing over her face and then lower. “Most of them just curse at us.”

Islae lowered the flask, letting her fingers brush his as she handed it back. “Violence solves nothing. That’s why I became a healer.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, noting how his gaze followed the movement. “What made you join the guards?”

“My father’s position. But I…” He stepped closer. “I don’t always agree with how things are done here.”

“No?” She tilted her head, offering a small smile. “It’s nice to meet someone who thinks for himself.”

His chest puffed slightly at the praise. Another step closer, and she could smell his cologne—too strong, trying too hard to seem mature. But she kept her expression soft and interested.

“Maybe I could bring you more water later,” he suggested, his voice dropping lower. “Or some food?”

“That would be wonderful.” She let her smile widen, even as her skin crawled at his proximity. The tingling in her blood surged again—Nirrn’s presence, his strength flowing through their connection. She held on to that feeling, using it to maintain her mask of gentle flirtation.

Her stomach churned as he pressed even closer to her, his hands suddenly sliding up her sides.

His breath reeked of synthetic mint—some cheap breath freshener that did nothing to mask the sour undertones.

She forced herself to lean into his touch, remembering every anatomy lesson she had ever learned about the carotid arteries and blood flow to the brain.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against her neck. “Not like other humans.”

She tilted her head, giving him better access while positioning her arms. “You’re different, too,” she whispered, letting her fingers trail across his chest. The bond-warmth in her blood surged with possessive fury—Nirrn’s presence burning through her veins.

She pushed the feeling down, focusing on the task at hand.

The guard’s hands grew bolder, pawing at her chest through her shirt. His inexperience showed in his clumsy groping. She bit back her revulsion and arched into his touch, using the movement to shift her weight.

“Such soft skin,” he groaned, nuzzling her throat.

Perfect position. She struck, her right arm wrapping around his neck in a precise hold. The guard stiffened, trying to pull back, but she locked her grip with her left hand, applying pressure to both sides of his neck.

“Wha—” he gasped, his hands scrabbling at her arm.

She maintained steady pressure, counting the seconds. The carotid arteries would compress first followed by the jugular veins. Within ten seconds, his struggles weakened. By fifteen, his knees buckled.

The bond-warmth pulsed through her—Nirrn’s strength flowing into her arms as she held the guard’s unconscious body, carefully lowering him to the ground. She checked his pulse—steady and strong. He’d wake up with a headache, but no permanent damage.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, retrieving his keys and weapon. “But I’m not staying here to be your toy or anyone else’s.”

The thrumming in her blood settled into a steady hum, as if Nirrn approved of her actions. She allowed herself a small smile, imagining his fierce golden eyes watching over her. Soon, she promised silently. Soon they would be together again.

She froze mid-step as alarms suddenly blared through the stronghold, their piercing wail echoing off the stone walls.

Her fingers tightened around the stolen weapon, her heart thundering erratically against her ribs.

The unconscious young guard lay crumpled at her feet, his breathing steady and slow.

Shouts erupted from somewhere above, followed by the thunder of running feet and the distinct sound of weapons fire. But not from the corridor leading to her cell. The chaos seemed centered in the upper levels.

“What the hell?” she whispered, pressing herself against the cold stone wall.

The steady warmth flowing through her veins suddenly spiked. That connection she’d felt with Nirrn was more intense than ever before.

Explosions rocked the building, sending dust cascading from the ceiling. The guards’ voices grew more panicked, their words carrying down the ventilation shaft.

“…multiple breaches in sectors three and four!”

“They’re everywhere! How did they get past—”

Another explosion cut off the rest. The overhead lights flickered, casting wild shadows across the stone floor.

She held perfectly still, analyzing each new sound. The fighting seemed concentrated away from the cellblock. Whatever—or whoever—was attacking had the Jorvlens thoroughly distracted.

The warmth in her blood spiked again, even stronger this time. The sensation felt familiar, like Nirrn’s touch but charged with a wild and dangerous energy she’d never felt from him before.

More weapons fire erupted above, followed by screams that cut off abruptly. The overhead lights flickered again, threatening to plunge the corridor into darkness. Her fingers tightened on her stolen weapon as she listened intently, barely breathing.

Something was happening in this stronghold. Something big enough to throw the usually disciplined Jorvlen forces into chaos. But what? And more importantly—should she make her move now while they were distracted, or wait to see how the situation developed?