Page 2 of Sy

The feral was the first to back down, giving a sharp nod before returning to his workstation. He was an older feral, already on the northern continent when they’d all arrived from the south. His symbiont was a weak one, probably not even vocal in its host’s mind because Sy’s own legion symbiont didn’t make a comment or warn him of any danger. The Izaean workers slowly dispersed, though Sy noted the lingering looks of distrust.

He remained in place for a moment, watching as work resumed. His legion symbiont stirred in his mind, responding to the residual tension in the air. He pushed it back, maintaining control. Every day was a balancing act between his old self and what he’d become.

He knew this incident wouldn’t be the last. Fear ran deep, and trust would take time to build.

With a sigh, he made his way across the construction site, heading toward where Kraath stood surveying another section of the project. The garrison commander’s rigid posture and crossed arms broadcast his displeasure, even from a distance. Sy’s enhanced vision picked up the tight set of Kraath’s jaw as well as the way his fingers drummed against his biceps.

“Commander.” Sy inclined his head as he approached, noting how Kraath’s gaze fixed on his red eyes before shifting away. Kraath had been in command of the northern garrison for many years before Sy had even been born or come to Parac’Norr, andthe rumors said he’d never once backed down from a feral nor given in to the Blood Rage in all that time.

“Progress report on the landing pads?” Kraath’s tone was clipped and professional as he rubbed at the short stubble on his pointed jaw. He cast a glance up at the sky. Somewhere above them in orbit, the human teams were loading the shuttles ready to head down to the surface.

“Eastern pad’s foundation is complete and being inspected now. Western pad will be ready for the final pour by this evening.” Sy kept his voice neutral, though his symbiont stirred in response to Kraath’s nearness. Something about the male unsettled it. “We’re on schedule, despite a few issues between the workers.”

“Issues. That’s one way to put it.” Kraath’s lip curled slightly as he turned to face Sy fully. “And the others? The feral group?”

The emphasis onothersmade the blackened armor down Sy’s arm tighten slightly. Unlike his claws, the armor wouldn’t retract fully, leaving visible evidence of what he was across his skin. Along with the eyes, it was the quickest way to identify a feral in the absence of more obvious mutations. “More turned up today than yesterday, and they’re working well enough. There have been some minor incidents, but nothing we can’t handle.”

“See that you do handle it.” Kraath’s gaze swept over the construction site. “We can’t afford any complications when the humans arrive.”

Sy studied the commander’s profile, questions burning in his throat. Kraath had refused to answer Sy’s question about why the legion symbionts knew him. Why they called him ancient. And how had Kraath known the horde were Tanel? What else did he know about them? About the ferals? Sy’s symbiont whispered at the edge of his consciousness but offered no insights.

“Sir,” Sy started, “about the legion?—”

“Focus on your assigned duties,” Kraath cut him off. “That’s all you need to concern yourself with at the moment.” He gave a curt nod and turned away, striding toward another group of workers.

Sy watched him go, frustration coiling in his gut. Kraath knew something, but he refused to talk. Not even Banic or Prince Isan had been able to make him give up his secrets.

Movement caught Sy’s eye, drawing his attention to where Kal and Tor worked together, securing support beams. He smiled slightly, tension rolling through him as he watched them. His cousin’s movements were different now—sharper, more precise. The transformation had changed Tor physically, just as it had changed him, but there was something else, something that made Sy’s symbiont stir uneasily.

Tor’s symbiont was stronger than most. He saw it in the way Tor moved and in the way he lifted his head sometimes, as though listening to something only he could hear. It was there in the way his claws would extend unconsciously, his armor plates rippling with agitation at random moments. Sy knew what it was. Tor’s symbiont was talking to him.

His chest tightened as Tor snapped at Kal over some minor mistake. The boy he’d helped raise, who’d always been quick to smile and slow to anger, now balanced on a knife’s edge of control. He clenched his jaw. The fear of losing Tor to his symbiont, of watching him slip away into true Blood Rage, was a constant weight and terror in his mind.

The sound of Tor’s snarl carried across the construction site, but Kal just laughed it off, clearly used to his friend’s new temperament. For that, Sy was grateful. Kal was level-headed and, even though he was Izaean himself and young, had more control than many adult Izaean Sy knew. He would make commander one day. Sy was sure of it.

He looked up as he picked up the faint rumble of engines above them, scanning the horizon where dark clouds gathered. The weather system was moving in faster than predicted.

If the storm hit before the shuttle landed… He shook off the thought. They’d prepared for this. The guidance systems were calibrated for severe weather, and the pad’s surface treatments would prevent ice formation.

“Clear the pad!” he called out, his voice carrying across the construction site. Workers began gathering their tools, moving with practiced efficiency as the rumble grew louder. Now some of the others could hear it too, their heads tilting up. Some of them had never seen a human other than Doctor Godwin, and the rumors had it that more human females would be in the arriving groups. That was no doubt the reason more and more ferals had turned up to work.

He caught the glint of metal through the clouds first as the huge transport shuttle began its descent.

“Everyone behind the safety lines,” he ordered, watching as the workers moved to their designated positions.

The shuttle broke through the cloud cover, sleek and gleaming. The black armor on his forearms rippled, his claws extending before he could stop them, responding to a perceived danger when there was none. He forced them back, conscious of how he must appear now and not wanting to scare any of the humans.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain. Sy’s gaze remained fixed on the approaching shuttle, his symbiont alert and watchful within him. The shuttle’s landing lights pierced the gathering gloom as the first drops of rain began to fall.

He squared his shoulders, his eyes remaining locked on the horizon as the shuttle made its final approach. He watched as the pilot guided it through the turbulent air with steady hands. The rain fell harder now, but his enhanced vision cut throughit easily, tracking every movement of the craft as it descended toward the pad.

“Lock it down!” he roared as the shuttle touched down. “Let’s get them inside before this storm gets any worse!”

They were going to die.

Ashley gripped the seat’s armrest as the shuttle lurched, plunging through another layer of dense clouds. Her stomach rose with each violent shake, and she had to bite back a whimper. She was the lead on this project, so she couldn’t fall apart. Not with her senior staff looking back at her from the other seats, their hands wrapped around their harnesses and faces as pale as hers.

The alien pilot’s hands danced across the controls with practiced ease, but it did little to settle her nerves. Beside her, Lila’s face was practically pressed against the small viewport, drinking in the alien landscape below with unbridled fascination.

---