Page 7 of Larz

A ripple of unease twisted through my gut as I squinted against the dying light. They were tall and imposing figures, moving with an unsettling grace across the sand.

“Get back to the ship,” I hissed to Erin, without taking my eyes off the figures. “Warn the others.”

“But what about—” she protested.

“Now, Erin!” The urgency in my voice propelled her into motion.

I watched her retreat before turning back to face our visitors. My heart pounded against my ribs like a frantic drum as I counted their numbers—one... two... six... more than I could fight off alone if it came to that.

“Stay calm,” I muttered to myself. “They might be friendly.”

As they drew closer, their features became clearer—their skin was an iridescent blue that seemed to drink in the sunlight, and their eyes... their eyes were like liquid silver, reflecting the world back at itself.

I took an involuntary step back as they approached; a primitive part of me screamed that these were predators, and I was prey. But then one of them stepped forward—a head taller than the rest—and something about his bearing spoke not of threat but of curiosity.

“You are not Zorvian,” he said in a deep voice that resonated with a strange melody.

His command of our language startled me. “No, we’re human,” I replied cautiously.

He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing my words. “From Earth?”

I nodded, suddenly aware of how small and frail my gesture must seem. “Yes, from Earth.”

There was a momentary silence where only the wind dared speak as it whispered across sand and metal. Then he extended his hand—four fingers and a thumb just like mine—but larger and tipped with claws that spoke of his warrior nature.

“I am Larz.”

I hesitated before reaching out to clasp his hand with my own—a human gesture that seemed so insignificant now among the stars. His grip was firm but not crushing; there was an understanding in it—a recognition of bravery or perhaps just mutual survival.

“My name is Hailee Jenkins.”

The other Zorvians had fanned out slightly behind Larz in a formation that felt deliberate yet non-threatening. My gaze flickered between them as I searched for any sign of aggression or deceit.

“Why have you come here?” Larz asked after releasing my hand.

“Our planet is dying,” I said simply because what else could I say? That we had fled our home not knowing if we would find refuge or ruin?

A frown creased Larz’s brow—a universal expression, it seemed—and he glanced back at his companions before returning his attention to me.

“This is not good.” He paused, as if weighing his next words. “Zorv is not kind to strangers.”

A cold knot formed in my stomach at his words, but before fear could take root, he continued.

“However, you are in need.”

“And?” My voice came out sharper than intended, edged with anxiety and hope tangled together like vines.

“And we honor the code of Il’Shanar—to aid those who face extinction.”

Relief washed over me in an almost physical wave; it mingled with so many other emotions that I couldn’t name them all—gratitude, disbelief, even a twinge of guilt for imposing on these people... these aliens who owed us nothing.

“We have injured,” I said after composing myself enough to speak again. “We need help.”

Larz nodded once, then turned and spoke a few sharp commands in his language—a series of clicks and tones that were musical yet foreign to my ears. Two of his companions broke away from the group and began descending the dune toward our crashed vessel with swift strides.

“They will assist,” Larz stated simply, as if such kindness was as ordinary as breathing to him.

For a moment we stood there—human and Zorvian—on an alien world under a sky painted with unfamiliar constellations. It felt like standing at the edge of history; two paths converging that should have never crossed, yet here we were bound by chance and necessity.

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