Page 57

"Then move him," Sora said, standing up. She looked at the shadows on the ceiling, her voice softening. "Let him reside up in our village. Just for the festival. Keep him in a cage, keep him guarded, but allow him to see what a true clan and kin should look like. Alu’un knows what happens with the severed during the Alignment... allow him some light before he dwells in the darkness again."

My first instinct was to forbid it. The heart of our home was sacred; bringing a Vakra into our celebration was an affront to tradition. I opened my mouth to bark a refusal, but then I thought of Lyra.

I thought of the way she had looked at me last night—the defiance in her eyes, the way she refused to take 'no' for an answer when it came to a life in need. If I denied this, she would find a way to sneak down here again. She would risk the guards, risk Vahn’s prying eyes, or do something even worse behind my back.

And more than that... I knew the light she brought. I had felt it settle the storm in my blood. If she wanted this fledgling to see it too, who was I to deny the star-woman her mercy?

Fuck. She is softening my hearts.

"Fine," I huffed, the word feeling heavy in my throat. "Bring him up to the Nest. Under heavy guard. If he so much as clicks at a fledgling, he returns to the rot instantly."

Sora’s markings flared a joyful lavender. Toren, standing in the corner, let out a soft snort and a smirk, giving a slight, respectful nod toward his sister.

I caught the look and shoved Toren’s shoulder in annoyance as I headed for the exit. "Do not start, Toren. It is a tactical decision. A well-fed prisoner talks more than a dead one."

"Of course, Huntmaster," Toren chuckled, stumbling back from the push with a grin. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I didn't answer. I just walked faster, the scent of the coming festival—and the scent of her. Drawing me away.

Chapter 38

Lyra

The day vanished in a blur of vibrant colours and smells that seemed to defy every law of biology I’d ever studied. After Sora left me to my own devices, I had expected to be ignored—or at least tolerated from a safe distance. Instead, I found myself pulled into the organised chaos of the village preparations.

I spent hours sitting in a circle with a group of women—Oru-ka with skin the colour of polished garnets and deep mahogany. Their markings flickered in rhythmic patterns as they worked, a silent language of colour that underscored their musical tumble of clicks and vowels. They showed me how to weave the luminescent Lumia-vines into long, draping garlands that would light the walkways once the suns went down. At first, my fingers were clumsy, but they were patient, their three-fingered hands moving with a grace that made my own movements feel heavy. For the first time since the crash, I didn't feel unwanted or unwelcome.

Then there was the food. I’d been hesitant when a young hunter offered me a slice of something that looked like a blue, fleshy starfruit, its skin shimmering with a light frost. But the taste exploded with cream and sharp citrus, making my eyes go wide. I tried others—steamed tubers that tasted like honeyed earth and roasted nuts that popped in my mouth with a savoury, smoky butter.

I waited for the familiar tightness in my chest, for the allergic reaction that should have been inevitable for a human eating alien flora. But there was nothing. No hives, no swelling, no pain. Just the strange, terrifyingly beautiful realisation that my body was thriving here. It was as if Alu’un itself had recognised me and decided I was worth sustaining.

As the twin suns began to dip, casting long, bruised-purple shadows across the canopy and turning the mist into a sea of lavender, a thought hit me so hard I had to stop mid-bridge.

I haven’t thought about Earth once. Not the sterile, steel-grey corridors of the colony ship. Not the crowded, smog-choked cities I’d left behind, or the life I thought I’d lost. Since the moment I crawled out of that escape pod, my world had narrowed down to this forest, these people, and the terrifyingly intense alien man who led them. It was a dizzying, lightheaded feeling—a sense of belonging that felt more visceral and real than anything I’d experienced back "home." This Nest, with its swaying bridges and alien songs, was starting to feel like the place I was meant to find.

I made my way back toward the hut as the light failed and the tribe began to retreat to their own dwellings, the bioluminescence of the trees beginning to wake up. Suddenly, a blur of red and violet dropped from a branch above, landing silently right in front of me.

Sora stood there, her tail swishing with a frantic pride that she couldn't seem to suppress. "Lyra! You will not believe the song the wind is carrying through the roots today."

"Sora, you nearly gave me a heart attack," I breathed, clutching my chest as my heart hammered against my ribs. "What is it? You look like you just won a war without throwing a single spear."

"The prisoner," she said, her markings flashing a triumphant, bright lavender that lit up her face. "Kaelen has agreed. Sky is being moved. He will be brought up to the village for the festival tomorrow. He will be kept under guard, yes, but he will be allowed to see the light of the Oru-ka and the grace of the Alignment."

I froze, my jaw practically hitting the wooden platform. "He... he actually said yes? I thought for sure he’d have that poor kid skinned and mounted by now. Or at the very least, left to rot in the dark until he talked."

Sora laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a storm, and reached out to squeeze my arm. "I told you, star woman. He is softening. His edges are being worn smooth by a certain stubborn presence in this Nest. He fought it, of course—he growled, and he huffed—but in the end, he could not say no."

My heart gave a treacherous, heavy thump. Kaelen. I was still angry—furious at the way he’d dismissed me and the walls he kept slamming down every time we got close. I haven't even seen him since…I wanted to stay mad at him for being a brooding, overprotective tyrant. But hearing that he’d listened... that he’d shown mercy to a Vakra child because he knew I couldn't bear the alternative... it made my anger feel fragile and thin.

The memory of the other night rushed back—the scorching heat of his skin, the way his pupils had swallowed the gold of his eyes, and the way he had finally broken under my touch. He was a man of steel, but I was starting to realise I was the only thing that could make him melt.

"He’s still a jerk," I muttered, though even to my own ears, the conviction was gone.

"A jerk who listens to your heart," Sora countered with a knowing wink.

As we continued toward the hut, the village's atmosphere shifted. The air grew cooler, charged with a strange, electric anticipation. The very wood of the trees seemed to vibrate with the coming Alignment.

"Sora, seriously," I said, trying to shake the image of Kaelen's intense gaze from my head. "What exactly happens tomorrow? You’ve been dodging the specifics. Is there a ritual? Am I supposed to dance? Because I’m a terrible dancer, and I’d really rather not offend your planet's version of Mother Nature by tripping over my own feet."