Page 51 of Primal Bond

Zanik shrugged, feeling a rare sense of discomfort under Finn’s scrutiny. “I cut them a deal on materials. Nothing more. It was that, or leave these young fools to flounder in space until their oxygen materializers cut out.”

"Aww, you like us."

"I couldn't have the deaths of idiots on my hands."

“Always the modest one,” Tira added, her eyes twinkling. “He likes us — even though he pretends not to.”

Finn’s brow furrowed, taking in the scene around him. “So, you trust them?”

Zanik nodded, his gaze steady. “I do. They might be... unconventional, but they’re reliable. I leave important things with them for safekeeping.”

Grom puffed out his chest proudly. “And we take that responsibility seriously. Anything Zanik gives us, we guard with our lives.”

If Zanik wanted that kind of assurance, he'd leave his things on stations that had trained security, and weaponry systems that actually worked more than half the time.

No, this was security through obscurity. No-one came to the odd little commune out here — in a small part because of the fear that its strange ways might somehow be contagious.

Zanik nodded to his old friends, then glanced at Finn. "Stay here. I need to collect something."

Finn looked at him, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty in his eyes. "Okay, but don't take too long," he said under his breath. "These guys are... a lot."

Zanik couldn't help but smirk. "They won't bite."

As Zanik walked away, he heard Tira's playful voice behind him. "Come on, Fi-nnn. We have some tea and treats. You're so small, you must be underfed!"

Zanik moved down one of the joyfully-painted corridors, his footsteps echoing off the metal walls. Eventually, he made his way through the maze, coming to the point he'd remembered by heart.

He reached for a panel, hidden behind an old tapestry depicting a forest scene from Vasz. With a practiced hand, he slid the panel aside, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside lay a wrapped bundle.

His heart thudded as he pulled it out. The cloth felt rough and familiar against his fingers.

Carefully, he unwrapped it, revealing his clan blade.

The weapon's polished surface gleamed under the faint light, the intricate carvings on the hilt telling stories of battles and honor.

Holding the blade again after so long, Zanik felt a rush of conflicting emotions. He remembered the countless hours of training, the sense of purpose he once had.

But that felt like another lifetime, another person. The war had changed him, made him a smuggler, a loner.

Could he ever truly go back to who he was?

He tested the blade's weight in his hand, the balance still perfect, as if it were an extension of his body. If anything could help him take down Rivek, it was this blade. A tool of honor, now repurposed for a mission of revenge and survival.

With a deep breath, he secured the blade to his belt. This wasn't a promise. This was just… just the best tool for the task ahead of him.

As he made his way back, the sounds of laughter and chatter grew louder. Re-entering the room, he found Finn seated among the three misfits, a bewildered yet amused look on his face. Tira was offering him a steaming cup of steeped Borraq tea, while Jarek piled a plate high with colorful cakes. Grom, meanwhile, was poking at Finn's arm, marveling at the human's thin skin.

"How do you stay warm?" Grom asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Finn chuckled nervously. "We wear clothes. Lots of clothes."

Jarek laughed heartily, like Finn had just told a joke. "That's so strange!"

Finn glanced up, relief washing over his face when he saw Zanik. The look in his face said it all:Can we go now?

Zanik nodded, suppressing a smile at the sight of Finn surrounded by the doting misfits. "Let's go."

Tira pouted. "Aww, but we still had questions!"

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