Page 41 of Alien Hunter's Prize

The core chamber's roar subsided, replaced by a deep, resonant hum that felt fundamentally different—stable, harmonious, sane. The angry red light bathing the chamber softened, shifting through orange and gold to a steady, calming blue. The oppressive heat lessened, the air losing its acrid bite.

My markings settled into a steady thrum, still intensely aware but no longer painful.

But Iros—where was Iros? I reached through the link, frantic, desperate to feel even a flicker of his presence. And when it came—a slow, pained pulse—I wept.

We did it. The counter-harmonic sequence had held. The core was stabilizing.

Relief, so potent it almost buckled my knees, washed through me. But it lasted only a heartbeat before being eclipsed by sharp fear.

Iros.

Through the connection, I had felt the energy backlash hit him—a blinding wave of agony that had severed his conscious projection just as the core settled. I spun around, my gazesearching the chamber, finally landing on his crumpled form near the primary conduit junction he had wrestled with.

He lay unnervingly still.

"Iros!" His name tore from my throat, raw with panic.

I scrambled towards him, stumbling over debris, my own exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Nirako and Pravoka were already moving cautiously towards him from their positions near the entrance.

I reached him first, dropping to my knees beside his still form. His eyes were closed, his face ashen beneath his emerald skin. His lifelines pulsed weakly, erratically, their light dim like dying embers.

Faint burn marks traced patterns along his arms where he must have made contact with the conduit, despite the protective gear. He was breathing, shallowly, but his stillness terrified me.

"Iros? Can you hear me?" I placed trembling hands on his chest, feeling the faint rise and fall. Through our link, I reached for him, encountering a haze of pain and deep unconsciousness.

He was alive, but severely weakened, his own energy systems reeling from the backlash.

Nirako and Pravoka arrived, their expressions grim as they assessed Iros's condition. "Energy trauma," Nirako stated, his voice low. "Severe. His lifelines struggle."

"We need to get him out of here," Pravoka added, his pragmatic gaze already scanning the chamber for exit routes and potential threats. "This place is stable now, but not safe."

He was right. The immediate crisis of the core overload was averted, but the facility itself remained ancient, damaged, and potentially treacherous. And Iros needed healing, the kind only Mateha and the Aerie tenders could provide.

A fierce determination surged through me, overriding my fear and exhaustion. Iros had taken the brunt of the backlash, shielding me, giving me the window I needed.

He had trusted me, anchored me. Now it was my turn to get him out.

"Help me get him up," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "We need to find another way out. The passage we came through likely collapsed further during the stabilization."

Nirako looked at me, then at Iros's large, unconscious form, skepticism warring with the respect I'd earned in his eyes. "He is heavy, Sound-Seer. And the paths..."

"I can navigate," I stated firmly, meeting his gaze. "My senses are clear now. I can read the energy patterns, find the stable routes. But I need your strength to move him."

Pravoka nodded curtly. "We will assist. Lead the way."

Getting Iros upright was a monumental effort. He was dead weight, his powerful muscles unresponsive. Nirako and Pravoka, despite their own fatigue, managed to haul him partially upright, supporting most of his weight between them.

I positioned myself to guide his steps, my hand on his back, channeling reassurance and direction through our connection, though I doubted he consciously perceived it.

"Which way?" Nirako grunted, straining under Iros's weight.

I closed my eyes briefly, extending my senses, using the techniques Mateha taught me, amplified by the now-harmonious ambient energy of the stabilized facility. The chaotic noise was gone, replaced by the steady hum of the core and the subtle energy signatures of the structure itself.

Patterns emerged—stable pathways showing as smooth flows of blue light, areas of lingering instability or structural weakness appearing as faint grey static or sharp angles.

"There," I pointed towards a corridor opposite the one we'd entered. "The energy signature is stable in that direction. And I feel air movement. Faint, but fresh."

We began the slow, arduous process of moving Iros out of the core chamber. Nirako and Pravoka bore most of his physicalweight, their Nyxari strength essential. My role was navigation and support. I walked slightly ahead, scanning the path, calling out warnings.

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