Page 52 of Primal Bond

Zanik raised an eyebrow. "Another time, perhaps."

They made their way back to the Ironclad, the weight of his blade a strange presence at Zanik's side — odd after so long apart, but familiar.

He was picking it back up as a different man.

And this time, he had something new to protect.

Chapter twenty-three

Finn glanced at Zanik as they walked back to the Ironclad. "What did you get?"

Zanik met his gaze, his voice steady. "An old friend."

He stepped into the docking bay, Finn trailing closely behind. Once the docking door was closed again, he unsheathed the blade, the polished metal glinting in the overhead lights. He held it out, the hilt gripped firmly in his hand.

Finn’s eyes widened, a mix of awe and curiosity flickering across his face. “Looks cool. What is it?”

“This is my clan blade,” Zanik said, his voice low. “It’s a weapon of honor.”

"How is that different to the blade you already have? I saw you kill Rivek's man on that station with that one. It seemed to work just fine."

Zanik nodded, stepping back to give himself room. He began to move, flowing into the first form — a sweeping arc that cutthrough the air. He felt the rhythm of the blade in his hands, each movement precise and controlled.

“This is the first form,” he explained, his voice steady. “It’s called the Wind’s Embrace. It symbolizes freedom and the flow of life. We learn these forms to connect with our heritage, to honor those who fought before us.”

Finn watched intently, his eyes fixed on Zanik’s movements. “Looks... graceful,” he said, a hint of admiration in his tone.

Zanik continued with the next form, a quick thrust forward. “This is the Lion’s Strike. It represents strength and courage. In our clan, every warrior is taught to wield a blade from a young age.”

Finn’s expression shifted, a mix of intrigue and something softer as he watched Zanik move. “What was it like growing up in a clan?” he asked.

Zanik hesitated, the memories flooding back. The warmth of kinship, the laughter around the fire, the stories shared under the stars. “It was... fulfilling. We trained together, fought together. There was a sense of belonging.”

“That sounds nice,” Finn said softly, his gaze lingering on Zanik. “What about Borraqs who aren’t like Urlek? What’s Borraq life like, if you're not a pillaging scumbag?”

Zanik felt a tightness in his chest. “We live by honor, respect. We protect our own. We value strength, but not in the way that slavers do. They use fear; we use bonds of loyalty.”

Finn nodded, absorbing the words. “I wish I could know that side of your world.”

Zanik paused, meeting Finn's gaze. There was something raw and genuine in the boy's eyes, an understanding that stirred something deep within him. He hadn’t talked about his past in years. Would it be so bad to share?

“It’s... complicated,” Zanik finally said, feeling the weight of his own walls. “But it’s worth it.”

Zanik resheathed his blade, his mind still lingering on Finn’s intrigued expression. The boy had an endless curiosity, one that both fascinated and unnerved him.

“Tell me about your village,” Finn said, his eyes bright with interest. “What was it like growing up there?”

Zanik leaned against the wall, feeling the cool metal press against his back. “It was a jungle village. Trees taller than any building, thick vines hanging everywhere. We lived in harmony with the wild. Hunting, gathering...”

Finn's eyebrows shot up. “Hunting? Did you ever bring down a big beast?”

“Of course,” Zanik said, a smile creeping onto his lips. “Once even a large Kraal. We feasted for days.”

Finn leaned closer, his tone teasing. “I bet you were the hero of the village, right?”

“Something like that.” Zanik chuckled. “Though, it was more about the clan than one individual.”

“Still, I can picture it... A young warrior, muscles rippling as he brings home dinner.” Finn's voice dropped, a hint of flirtation coloring his words. “Sounds like quite the sight.”

---