Page 55 of The Monster's Daughter

She squints at the screen. “Huh.”

Not a sound you want to hear.

“There’s some trace nanite activity in your bloodstream. Nothing active—just residue.” She peers at me over the rim of her compad. “Have you undergone any cybernetic procedures?”

I make my face a mask. “War injury. Long time ago. Alliance medics patched me up with whatever they had.”

She hesitates. “Ah. That would explain it.”

Would it? She moves on without pushing.

But I’m already chewing on the implications. My skin prickles like ants under it. I didn’t think… I never let them get me. But that day on the ship, with Bella—Nulegion—her arm?—

The thought knots in my chest.

I keep my silence.

I endure.

Paperwork follows. Fingerprints. Scans. Interview. “What is your reason for extended stay?”

“Family,” I say.

The word tastes strange. Like metal and sugar. Like something I’m not allowed to want.

They stamp my file. Temporary approval pending background clearance.

I leave with the sun slamming into my eyes like judgment.

I stopat the community market on the way back. It’s older than the floating one, quieter. Cracked tiles underfoot, woven canopies overhead. Vendors shout less here. Everything’s a little faded but sturdy, like it’s survived more than its share of bad weather.

I buy a bag of smoked barkfruit from a stand run by a Grolgath with crinkled scales and foggy eyes. His horns are dulled with age, his voice thick with home.

“You not from around here,” he says, handing over the bag.

“Was,” I grunt. “Now I’m trying again.”

He chuckles. “Aren’t we all.”

His gaze shifts behind me, where kids run through the stalls. “Your hatchling, eh?”

I stiffen. “No.”

He eyes me, head tilted. “Mate then?”

I shake my head. “She’s not— It’s not like that.”

The elder clicks his tongue. “You sure about that?”

I don’t answer.

Because no, I’m not.

He gives me a knowing look, slow and quiet. Like he’s seen this before. Like he already knows how it ends.

I walk away.

The barkfruit tastes like ash.