Page 8 of Alien Healer's Touch

Inside my sparse room, I sank onto the narrow bed. My thoughts raced despite my exhaustion. The disease itself I could handle now that I understood its origin, but the deeper infection of suspicion and fear that Hammond cultivated—that posed a far more insidious threat.

And somewhere in this compound, Claire waited in isolation, imprisoned for the crime of being marked. How many others lived in fear, like Zara?

I stared at the ceiling, my silver markings tingling beneath my sleeves. The irony struck me—I'd come to save lives, yet my own freedom dangled by an increasingly frayed thread.

KAVAN

The fading daylight filtered through Arenix's dense canopy as I crouched among the purple-leafed shrubs. Human sentries patrolled the perimeter with their projectile weapons, eyes darting toward the forest where I hid.

Their settlement grew more formidable with each passing day. What began as makeshift shelters now resembled a military installation, with salvaged hull plates forming walls and repurposed energy cells powering defense systems.

From my position, I observed their medical facility where Selene worked. The translucent walls glowed with interior light, silhouettes moving within. I focused my senses, filtering out the night creatures awakening around me.

"Reinforced the eastern perimeter yet?" A human male approached another guard.

"Yeah. Hammond's orders. Double shifts until further notice."

"This containment protocol is bullshit. The marked women haven't done anything wrong."

"Tell that to Hammond. He's convinced they're compromised. Did you hear they locked three more in the secure wing yesterday?"

My tail twitched against the forest floor. Containment protocols? My people never interfered with human governance, but their treatment of marked females violated our agreement. The marked ones represented hope for our dwindling numbers. To hear them spoken of as threats...

I scanned the facility again. Selene moved past a window, her profile unmistakable even at this distance. My chest tightened. She carried herself with dignity among her people, despite their fear.

That stubborn strength—her refusal to bend even when surrounded by chaos—stirred something in me. I had seen Nyxari warriors crumble under less, but Selene stood like something rooted.

The first moon crested the horizon, bathing the forest edge in silver light. Soon its crimson sister would follow. Time for the ritual.

I retreated deeper into the forest, my steps silent on the decaying vegetation. A small clearing awaited, ringed with twisted ancient trees. Here, sheltered from human eyes, grew clusters of night-bloom—their bulbs still closed, awaiting moonlight's touch.

I knelt before them, removed my medicine pouch, and arranged my tools in the prescribed order—bone knife, crystal mortar, vials of sacred water. The ritual demanded precision; the blooms opened only during the alignment of both moons, their potency diminishing with each passing minute after.

"Ancestors guide my hands," I murmured, "that I might preserve life as you preserved knowledge."

The red moon joined its silver twin, and as their combined light touched the clearing, the night-blooms unfurled. Petals stretched outward, revealing cores that pulsed with soft blue luminescence. I worked quickly, harvesting only three from each cluster—never more, as ancient teachings instructed.

As I collected the blooms, my senses registered the subtle warnings my ancestors had taught generations of healers to recognize. The ground beneath my knees vibrated with faint tremors, too slight for humans to detect. Small burrowing creatures scurried past, abandoning their homes earlier than previous seasons. At the clearing's edge—early fruiting of storm-herald plants, their red seeds split open weeks before their usual time.

Seismic storm season approached, more aggressive than I'd witnessed in my lifetime. The signs foretold danger beyond typical violent weather. I needed to warn Selene. Human structures would not withstand what came.

A twig snapped behind me. I spun, tail poised to strike, only to find Mirelle standing at the edge of my clearing. The moonlight caught the silver markings on her skin, patterns that matched Lazrin's golden lifelines.

"I thought I might find you here," she said, voice low. "Lazrin mentioned you'd follow her."

I returned to my work, carefully placing the blooms in their protective container. "Does he disapprove?"

"No." Mirelle approached, watching my hands. "He understands what drives you. Perhaps better than you do."

I said nothing. The final bloom closed as I touched it, responding to the oils on my fingertips. I pulled back, waited for it to reopen.

"She's still inside," Mirelle offered. "Hammond has her working nonstop on the outbreak."

"How severe?"

"Eight confirmed cases, three critical. Blue-black veining spreading from extremities inward. Fever, delirium."

I nodded grimly. "Selene described symptoms that align disturbingly with accounts of the ancient Luraxi Fever," I admitted grimly. "I have prepared treatments thatmighthelp, should her suspicions prove correct." I indicated the blooms.

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