Page 43 of Alien Warlord's Fury

"You're hurt," I mumbled.

"Minor. The guardians are neutralized." He studied my face, expression darkening. "You are not minor."

I tried to stand, but my body refused. My markings pulsed erratically, each surge sending fresh waves of agony through my nervous system. The feedback loop from channeling so much raw, corrupted energy had drained me completely.

"We need to move," Nirako said, voice low and urgent. "More security will come."

I nodded, or tried to. "Just... give me a second."

He didn't wait. Without hesitation, Nirako slipped one arm beneath my knees and the other around my shoulders, lifting me against his chest. I should have protested—I wasn't helpless—but my body betrayed me, going limp in his arms.

"I can walk," I insisted weakly.

"No." A single syllable, brooking no argument.

The terrain grew more treacherous as we retreated. Corrupted earth cracked and shifted beneath Nirako's feet, but he moved with sure-footed grace, carrying me over unstable ground and past twisted vegetation. The corrupted area pulsed with sickly energy, an echo of my own unstable markings.

His tail moved subtly, constantly adjusting his balance as he navigated the hazardous path.

My head rested against his chest. Through the chaos of my own pain, I found myself anchored by the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. Through our growing bond, I felt his determination, his focus, his concern.

For me.

"The children," I whispered. "Did we help them?"

"Yes." Nirako navigated around a fissure glowing with unnatural light. "I felt the change through you. Hammond's power supply is compromised."

Relief washed through me, temporarily dulling the pain. "Good."

My markings flared again, sending fresh agony spiraling through my body. I bit back a cry, but couldn't hide the pain from Nirako. Through our connection, he felt the echo of my suffering.

"Your markings are dangerously unstable," he said, his voice tight. "You channeled too much corrupted energy."

"Had to be done," I managed through gritted teeth.

His arms tightened around me. "There is courage, and there is recklessness."

"Says the man who defied his council to follow me."

A flicker of dry humor crossed his face. "Perhaps we are well-matched in our defiance."

We traveled in silence for a time, my consciousness drifting. Each time I slipped toward darkness, the steady beat of Nirako's heart pulled me back. His arms never faltered.

The corrupted landscape gradually gave way to healthier terrain. The air grew cleaner, the ground more stable. Still, Nirako didn't set me down.

"I can try walking now," I offered, though the thought of standing made my stomach lurch.

"No." His eyes met mine. "You pushed yourself beyond your limits. Allow me to be your strength for now."

Something in his words, in the intensity of his gaze, silenced my protests. I'd spent so long fighting alone. The vulnerability of being carried, of being completely dependent, should have terrified me.

Instead, I found myself surrendering to it, to him.

My markings pulsed again, but less painfully now. Through our connection, I felt Nirako's energy—steady, controlled, powerful—flowing into me, helping to stabilize my chaotic patterns.

"You're helping me," I murmured. "How?"

"The bond between us grows stronger." His voice rumbled in his chest beneath my ear. "My lifelines respond to your markings. They seek balance."

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