Page 14

"She is a variable!" I snapped, stepping forward. The wood groaned under my weight. "We have lived in these trees for a thousand sun-cycles, hidden and silent. But the sky is changing. The fires are falling more often. If she knows why, then she is more valuable than a dozen of your 'traditions.' I keep her because I choose to understand the threat before I kill it. Or have you all grown so old that you fear a woman who can barely stand on her own two feet?"

The bickering started again—a chaotic storm of threats, fears, and dark curiosity. Some of the younger hunters whispered about the gold on her head, their eyes gleaming with a predatory interest that made my tail lash. Others spoke of the "Pulse" and whether the planet itself was rejecting her presence.

"Enough."

The word was barely a whisper, yet it struck the room like a thunderclap

In the highest seat, nestled between two massive, pulsing veins of sap, sat Elder Valra. She was the oldest of us, her skin the colour of a fading red moon, her eyes clouded over with a milky white film that had seen more seasons than the rest of the council combined. She rarely spoke, preferring to listen to the vibrations of the tree, but when she moved, the entire tribe held its breath.

Valra leaned forward, her long, thin fingers trembling as they gripped her staff of petrified wood. The chamber fell into a deathly silence. Even Vahn lowered his gaze, his markings dimming.

"You speak of threats and meat," Valra rasped, her voice sounding like the rustle of dry leaves in a storm. "You speak of the void as if it is a stranger. But the Great Alu’un does not allow accidents. The Pulse does not stutter without reason."

She turned her blind, white eyes toward the direction where I stood. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind.

"The star-woman fell through the fire," Valra continued, her head tilting as if she were listening to a sound only she could hear. "The mists did not choke her. The vines did not crush her. And our Huntmaster, whose hearts are usually as cold as the mountain peaks, found it within himself to reach for her. If she were a parasite, the Pulse would have stilled her heart before she hit the moss."

"She has a purpose," the old woman whispered, and the gravity of her words made my primary heart thud with a strange weight. "She is a seed planted by the stars. Whether she grows into a bloom or a thorn is not for us to decide with our claws today. She must walk the planet. She must breathe the mists. If she were allowed to speak our tongue, it is because the Great Alu’un wishes for us to listen."

Valra settled back into her seat, her strength seemingly spent. "Kaelen-Thul."

"I am here, Elder," I said, my voice lower now, respectful.

"The girl is your shadow now. Her life is bound to yours. If she brings the ash, your blood will pay the price. But until the Pulse gives the sign... she stays."

Vahn let out a low, frustrated hiss like steam escaping a pipe. He turned to his small circle of loyalists, his eyes burning with a humiliated rage.

"The old crone is dreaming of the soil," Vahn mumbled, his voice a ragged rasp as they began to file out of the chamber. "Let him keep his star-pet for now. When she brings the fire down on us, I’ll be the one to peel the skin from his back alongside hers. The Huntmaster is blinded by the gold on her head."

I watched them leave, my jaw tight. I didn't head back to my hut immediately. I needed the air of the open bridges. As I stepped out of the hollowed trunk, a shadow fell in step with me.

Toren.

He didn't speak at first, his tail swaying in a neutral cadence. He didn't fully agree with the woman being here—I could see it in the way his ears remained slightly tilted back—but he was my brother in arms.

"Valra has spoken," Toren said finally, his voice low. "But you’ve painted a target on your chest, Kaelen. Vahn won't let this rest. He smells a weakness."

"Let him smell it," I rumbled. "He’ll find only teeth if he bites."

Toren let out a short, dry click—the Oru-Ka equivalent of a chuckle. He reached into a small pouch at his waist and pulled out a dried, silver-leafed stalk of Zha-root. He broke off a piece and offered it to me.

"You look like you’re ready to snap the trunk of the Great Tree in half," Toren said, trying to lighten the dark mood. "Come. Let’s go to the upper lookout. We’ll burn some Zha and let the smoke calm the hearts. You need to clear your head before you go back to that... star-seed of yours."

The Zha-root was a potent herb, one that slowed the pulse and opened the mind to the hum of the forest. Usually, I avoided it during the hunt, but tonight, the fire in my veins was too hot.

"One burn," I agreed, taking the silver leaf. "Then I must check on her."

Toren grinned, his markings glowing a friendly, dim yellow. "Of course. Heaven forbid the star-woman has to spend an hour without her protector."

I growled a warning, but the tension in my shoulders began to ebb. We climbed toward the lookout, leaving the whispers of the council behind, but even as the silver smoke began to cloud my mind, the scent of ozone and honey remained, stubborn and unyielding.

Chapter 10

Lyra

The water was a miracle.

I leaned back against the smooth, calcified rim of the basin, letting the crimson liquid swallow me up to my collarbones. It felt thick, almost like bathing in heated silk. The mineral scent—sharp sulfur softened by the surrounding mint-like flora—should have been off-putting, but instead, it cleared the lingering fog of the fever from my brain.