Page 47

Z ahrik

I watch as the Anuriix gather in the chief’s hut, settling around the table in the Council chamber.

Warriors, elders, and even some of the human females.

They sit close together, speaking in low voices and laughing.

There’s an ease to them I’ve never known.

A lightness I’ve never seen among my own people.

The Anuriix are no longer weighed down by the fear of extinction. Not anymore. They have hope.

For so long, our future, as Laediriians, has been a slow march toward death. With each passing year, fewer kitlings are born from the artificial wombs. Fewer warriors are trained. Everyone, whether they admitted it or not, felt that steady slide toward nothingness.

But unlike my tribe, the Anuriix never let our impending extinction dampen their lives. They continued to live and laugh, to forge new bonds, refusing to let despair take hold.

Then, the humans came.

These strange, soft-skinned females with their dull coloring, blunt teeth, and stubborn spirits have breathed new life into the Anuriix tribe. Hope clings to this tribe like a second skin. It isn’t just a dream anymore. It’s real.

I see it in the way Sorrin grins at his mate, Mara, as she says something that makes him laugh. She doesn’t lower her gaze or flinch from his strength. She meets it and pushes back, and he likes it. He thrives on it. There is power in that.

On the other side of the table, Draggar sits with his mate, Haley. His arm rests around her shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her skin. She leans into him without hesitation. There is no fear in her posture. No guarded distance. Just quiet, open trust.

Even Vrok, still weak from his injuries, sits tall and proud beside his mate. Emily’s hand rests lightly on his thigh. They share a small smile with each other that makes my chest ache.

The sight of affection being shown so openly, so freely, is foreign to me.

This tribe is bonded, not just by blood or duty, but by something deeper. Love. Loyalty. Shared pain. They’ve endured through so much, and instead of fracturing or allowing it to harden them, they’ve only grown closer.

At the head of the gathering, Chief Daggir watches it all with the quiet pride of a male who has seen his people suffer and choose not to give in. He’s no fool. He knows war is on the horizon, and still he allows his people to feel joy. He encourages it.

My chief would never allow that.

Haavor only values power and control, and since he took leadership of the Tussoll, our tribe has only grown colder than we already were.

Harsher. Crueler. We don’t laugh. We don’t enjoy life.

We don’t trust each other. Whatever bonds once existed between us have long since frayed, and no one mourns their loss.

Maybe it’s the leaders we’ve had. Chiefs who ruled through fear and treated strength like it was a weapon, not a shield. Maybe it’s something deeper, something that is broken in the heart of my tribe.

I don’t recognize Haavor anymore. I once considered him a friend.

Someone I trained beside and bled beside.

But since becoming the chief of the tribe, he’s become something else.

He’s blinded by ambition and obsessed with this twisted dream of uniting all Laediriians under his rule.

Not as a chief, but as a king with absolute control.

I’ve watched him make promises he doesn’t intend to keep, and I’ve heard the bitterness and envy in his voice when he speaks of the Anuriix. He thinks their strength lies in their warriors, but he’s wrong.

It’s this . This warmth and connection between them. They’re not standing together out of fear or duty, but because they care for one another.

A pang twists in my chest. My own tribe doesn’t understand that kind of strength, and maybe that’s why it was so easy for the Pugj to turn us. Perhaps that’s why I’m here. Not just to stop what’s coming, but to make sure no other tribe becomes what the Tussoll has become.

I step forward, drawing the attention of the room, and the conversation dies away. Daggir meets my gaze and inclines his head, giving me a silent command to speak.

“The Pugj will begin their march soon.” My words land like stones in a lake. A ripple of unease moves through the room. “They plan to move their fighters down from the mountains and gather them in the Tussoll village.”

Daggir’s expression sharpens. “All of them?”

I nod. “Every last one.”

A heavy silence follows. Emily shifts beside Vrok. “That means war is imminent, right?” she asks quietly.

“It does,” I confirm. “There’s more. Haavor sent Jaran to lead an envoy to the Icerii. The mission was to demand the Icerii join forces with us or surrender. I was sent along to keep an eye on Jaran.”

That gets their attention. Draggar sits up straighter. Vrok mutters a curse under his breath. The elders exchange wary glances.

“The Icerii?” Sorrin asks, disbelief thick in his tone. “The Icerii chief despises Haavor.”

“Desperation makes for strange alliances.” My voice is grim. “If the Icerii agree, the Anuriix will be outnumbered.”

Daggir’s jaw tightens.

“Fortunately,” I continue, “the envoy never reached its destination.”

“Why not?” One of the other humans, Aria I think her name is, asks.

I can’t stop the small smile that tilts up the corners of my mouth. “Our supplies went missing. We lost direction in the jungle. Jaran became convinced we were being sabotaged, so he ordered us to turn back.”

Mara chuckles. “It was you, wasn’t it? You sabotaged the mission.”

I don’t confirm it. Instead, I let my smile widen before I continue, “We were nearly back to the village when we stumbled upon Vrok, Emily, and…” I can’t stop my voice from deepening as I finish, “And Lily.”

“There’s one more thing you need to know,” I add, my voice growing heavier. “Something that won’t be easy to hear.”

Daggir’s attention sharpens. “Go on.”

“I know how Danir died, and it wasn’t an accident.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, startled gasps echo around the room. Draggar stiffens, and Haley places a comforting hand on his arm. Daggir's face is unreadable, but I can feel the grief radiating off him like heat.

“We believed he fell. That it was a misstep,” Daggir says slowly. His voice carries the weight of a father still grieving his son.

Danir was the chief’s youngest son. He was found dead two seasons ago, during the frozen season, at the base of the mountain. It was assumed he had accidentally fallen, but he didn’t.

“That’s what you were meant to believe.” I pause and take a deep breath. “Haavor met with Jaran and the Pugj on the mountain. Danir stumbled upon the meeting. I don’t know who killed him, but Haavor made it clear when he told me about it. Someone pushed Danir off the mountainside.”

A tense silence settles over the chamber. Draggar is frozen, barely breathing. Daggir's expression doesn’t change, but I can feel the storm brewing inside him.

“I don’t say this to cause pain,” I continue in a quieter voice. “Only to tell you the truth. This alliance between the Tussoll and the Pugj isn’t just political. It’s soaked in blood. Haavor and the Pugj leader, Maso, have no shame. No honor, and there’s no limit to what they’ll do.”

For a long moment, no one speaks. Then, Daggir rises to his feet. His gaze sweeps around the chamber.

“We must prepare for the worst. We must ensure we’re ready.”

Around the room, warriors, humans, and elders nod their heads in agreement. But no one speaks. Not yet. Because we all feel it.

The time for peace is slipping away, and war is coming.