Page 8 of Larz

“We won’t forget this,” I promised him, even though words seemed so small against the vastness between our worlds.

Larz regarded me with those silver eyes—piercing yet not unkind—and there was something akin to respect within their depths when he finally spoke again.

“I believe you will not.”

Chapter

Four

Larz

The elders sat in a circle, their expressions as unreadable as the stone faces carved into the cliffs surrounding us. I stood before them, the weight of my people’s future pressing down upon my shoulders.

“Elders, an alien vessel has fallen from the sky,” I began, keeping my voice even. “Survivors have emerged, not unlike us, yet different in flesh and intention.”

Murmurs rippled through the air, like leaves disturbed by a sudden gust. Elder Sarn, his skin etched with the wisdom of many cycles, leaned forward.

“Different how?” His voice resonated with the strength of ancient trees.

“They’re frail, softer, their skin smooth and without scale,” I explained. “But it’s more than appearance. Their energy is... frantic, desperate.”

Elder Miya, her eyes reflecting the moonlight like twin stars, spoke next. “What of their intentions? Do they come as conquerors or refugees?”

I hesitated. The image of Hailee flashed in my mind — determination etched on her face despite obvious fear. “They speak of a dying world,” I admitted. “Seeking refuge seems their only goal.”

An unfamiliar voice cut through the gathering darkness as Elder Jorun stood. “We must consider the possibility of deceit. Their desperation could be a mask for invasion.”

The council absorbed his words like dry soil takes in rain. A decision would not come easily.

Elder Kaelin, his presence as soothing as a gentle stream, raised his hand for silence. “Let us not be hasty in branding these strangers as enemies or friends. We must observe, learn their ways.”

“And what if they are a blight upon our world?” Elder Jorun challenged. “A disease that will spread through Oumtera like wildfire?”

Elder Miya fixed her gaze on me again. “Larz, you’ve seen them up close. You’ve looked into their eyes. What did you see? A spark of conquest or a plea for mercy?”

Their eyes fell upon me like a blanket of nightfall.

“I saw fear,” I said after a pause, heavy with the weight of my words. “Fear and hope entwined like vines around their hearts.”

The circle of elders fell silent once more.

Elder Sarn’s voice broke the quiet with the force of a breaking branch. “Fear can drive creatures to extremes. It can make them dangerous.”

“Yes,” Elder Kaelin agreed softly, “but it can also unite us in unexpected ways.”

Elder Jorun stood abruptly, his shadow looming over us like an omen. “We must protect Oumtera at all costs.”

I could not deny the truth in his words; our planet’s welfare stood above all else.

“We will monitor them,” Elder Miya declared with finality that left no room for argument. “scrutinize their actions and intentions before we decide on our course.”

As if on cue, a gentle wind swept through the chamber, carrying with it the unspoken fears and hopes of every soul present.

“Let it be so,” Elder Sarn said gravely.

With those words sealing our fate for now, I turned and left the chamber behind me—stepping out into a world that had just grown infinitely larger and more uncertain than it had been when dawn broke that day.

I gripped the hilt of my training blade, its familiar coolness grounding me as I squared off against Marn, a fellow warrior whose prowess matched my own. The clack of wood on wood echoed through the training grounds, a rhythm that usually sharpened my focus. Today, though, images of the human survivors intruded upon my mind like unwelcome spirits.

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