Page 20 of Larz

“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “Tomorrow is another day.”

It was indeed — another day to face uncertainty and fear; another day to build bridges or burn them; another day for Hailee and me to navigate this delicate dance between two worlds colliding under strange stars.

I stood shoulder to shoulder with Hailee, our combined silence a stark contrast to the mounting clamor. A human, his skin pallid and slick with the sheen of anger, stepped forward. He jabbed a finger toward the crowd of my kin.

“You’re hiding something,” he accused, his voice hoarse with strain. “You’ve got tech beyond anything we’ve seen and it could get us off this moon!”

A Zorvian elder, draped in robes that whispered of ancient traditions, held his ground. His eyes, usually calm pools of wisdom, flashed with an intensity that rivaled the twin moons overhead.

“We share what we must ensure peace,” he countered. “Your journey here was not our doing.”

The human’s laugh was a bitter bark. “Peace? Is that what you call this? You’re keeping us here like specimens under glass!”

Beside me, Hailee’s breath hitched. I felt her hand brush mine before she stepped into the divide.

“Markus,” she implored, addressing the human with a tone that married firmness and empathy in equal measure. “They’ve been helping us.”

Markus spun on his heel, facing Hailee with eyes narrowed into slits.

“Helping? Or studying? Which is it, Hailee?” His voice cut through the air, a scalpel poised at trust’s tender flesh.

Hailee’s gaze flickered to me, then back to Markus. “They’ve given us no reason to doubt their intentions.”

The tension twisted tighter than Zorvians and humans alike leaned into an invisible arena drawn by our words. I felt their eyes upon me, branding me with silent questions and unvoiced suspicions.

Another Zorvian stepped forward — Xyrel, a warrior whose scars spoke of battles, won and lost.

“Why defend them?” Xyrel demanded of me, his stance challenging. “Have you forgotten the invaders who once sought to ravage our world?”

My jaw clenched at the memory — old wounds still raw beneath my scales.

“This is different,” I said through gritted teeth. “These humans are not invaders; they’re survivors.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Xyrel pressed.

“Their actions,” I stated simply. “Their leader has shown honor.”

Xyrel’s laugh was devoid of humor — a sound that raked against my resolve like talons on stone.

“Honor? From those who have poisoned their own home?”

The crowd murmured its disquiet, a storm brewing in hushed tones and hardened stares.

A human woman broke ranks from her group, her eyes wide and wet with unshed tears.

“We didn’t want this!” she cried out. “We didn’t choose to be last of our kind.”

Her words fell like stones into still waters — ripples of guilt and sorrow touching Zorvian and human hearts alike.

Xyrel regarded her with a glimmer of something softer than before, but shook his head.

“Pity does not alter facts,” he declared coldly.

“Nor does fear justify prejudice,” Hailee shot back, her voice rising above the tumult. “Our worlds have collided; can’t we at least try to coexist without suspicion?”

Markus rounded on her once more, betrayal etched deep into his features.

“You trust them too easily,” he spat out. “What if it’s all an act? What if it’s you who can’t see the truth because of... him?”

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